Then he led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven. ( Luke 24:50–51)

40 days since resurrection
40 days since you encountered Mary in the garden
and told her – Do not hold on to me
40 days since you walked the road to Emmaus
and explained the Scriptures to grieving disciples
40 days since you snuck in to a locked room in the evening
and breathed peace into that space that was filled with regret
40 days in which you hung out with your friends
often at the beach
practising forgiveness
showing love
continuing to teach
restore
and commission
Love one another
Feed my sheep
Go into all the world
I can’t help but wonder
if that 40 days
brought any more comprehension
or made letting go any easier
Or, whether, like a second pandemic lockdown
your followers were traumatised all over again
plunged into bewilderment
and despair
that all the “knowing it’s for the best”
still failed to diminish.
It’s hard to play the long game
when spirits are already worn out
tired of riding the roller coaster
of hope and disappointment
It’s easier to dally on the beach
to stick with what we know
than follow you where you call
trusting that we will be enough
that you will be enough
for whatever comes next.

Liz Crumlish’s blog for 9 May 2021 at https://tinyurl.com/5yttf62x

Reflecting on a year of COVID restrictions in Scotland

Remembering
the wave of disbelief
and the stunned silence
The grief
and lament
The resignation
and helplessness
The shock of furlough
– surplus to requirement
in an institution
focused on survival

Remembering
the mounting fear
as death tolls rose
The longing to be able to do more
than make a difference
by staying home
and the low grade anxiety
that began low in the belly on waking
and lodged in the throat on sleeping

Remembering
the deniers
and the conspiracists
the pontificators
and the optimists
all of whom made the work of  scientists
and out of their depth governments
all the more difficult

Remembering
the hope snatched away
by a second wave
crushing already beleaguered services
affecting a less compliant populous
being rekindled
by the whisper
of vaccine potential
into a hope reborn 

Oh to share the indictment of Maya Angelou
“When we know better, we do better”
Sadly, I wonder…
What have we learned?
And will our learning make any difference?
Will it make a difference
to the marginalised
to those on the edges
to “the least of these”
whom we are called to love and to serve?
Or, as is often the way,
Will those in power
tell the story
through rose tinted glasses
of a nation that fought
and won the fight
papering over the cracks
of dissension and division
of incompetence and pride
ignoring the long shadows that remain
trumpeting resilience
and “building back better”
as the tools with which to move forward?

Remembering …
And sitting with the grief
so that the loss and sacrifice
of so many
and the ongoing trauma and suffering
is not swept aside
as we move forward
but is carefully woven
into the fabric
of our communities
not only as dark threads
but also as bright and vivid streaks
startling reminders
held aloft
carried with us
into the compassionate future
that we craft together.

This reflection by our friend Liz Crumlish is used by permission, and comes from her blog, which you can follow at this link.

Today is 2 February: a day when the Scottish football transfer window has just closed with a flurry of last-minute signings; a day when even the hardiest of Christmas revellers pack away the remains of their decorations; a day to reflect on the time when Christ was presented in the Temple as an infant as recorded in Luke 2:22–40.

The “Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple” marks the day that the old man Simeon took the baby in his arms and recognised him as “A light to lighten the Gentiles, and the glory of thy people Israel”, words used each day as part of Evening Prayer.

On 2 February it became the custom to bring a lighted candle to the altar to represent the Christ-light, and to bless all the ‘lights’ or candles in the church, praying that all who saw the outward and visible light would remember also and be blessed by the inner light of Christ “who lightens everyone who comes into the world.”

With similar prayers for blessing in our hearts we’ve been asked to light candles at 7:00pm each Sunday to pray together with other Christians in Scotland, using the prayer specially written by the Scottish Church Leaders Forum which is linked to our Home page. And this month, in their #PrayerfortheNation initiative, the Archbishops of Canterbury and York are asking us  to pause and pray every day at 6.00pm for those impacted by the pandemic, with the suggestion that we might light a candle as a prompt to pray.

But our prayers don’t need to be complex or theological in tone. This prayer by Ruth Burgess is suitable for even the youngest:

I light a candle.
A sign that
I know
that God loves me.

I light a candle.
A sign that
I want to walk
with Jesus today.

I light a candle.
A sign that
I want the Holy Spirit
to breathe in me.

I light a candle
and I ask that
God’s love
and God’s glory
may shine through me.

So, go and light that candle!

More poetry on Malcolm Guite’s blog, from which part of this post was adapted, and in Prayers for Lighting Candles by Ruth Burgess, from which the prayer was taken.

When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. (Luke 2:15–18)

Who are the angels today?
Those with a story to tell:
a story of love and goodness
and glimpses of God at work;
a story that takes cognisance
of all the darkness,
yet draws out the hope
that is buried within.

And who are the shepherds?
The ones going about their business
who were singled out
to witness the miracle of Incarnation;
charged with spreading the good news
that God dwells among us.

Angels still pierce our darkness;
still bring us stories of love in action;
still point us beyond the gloom
to see the light.
While shepherds still carry on
tenderly caring,
witnessing everyday miracles
as they forge on
with the work that is theirs to do.
Treasuring, amidst their hard graft,
the presence of God
hallowing their work.
And these are the ones
to whom the good news is still proclaimed today.

Prayer

Lord, heighten our awareness of the angels and shepherds to whom you draw near today and from whom we can hear good news.

Read the whole of Liz Crumlish’s Advent via the post at this link.

Today is the 48th anniversary of the day this classic shot was taken, and still only three people, the crew of the Apollo 17 spacecraft that was en route to the Moon, have seen this sight themselves. This is because it’s a classic case of having to be in the right place at the right time under the right conditions, so there’s a narrow window of opportunity and not too many folk who have looked back at the earth from 18,000 miles away!

In Prayer for the Day this morning, Rev Sharon Grenham-Thompson reminded us that this unscheduled photograph “has been described as the perfect picture of our shared home, depicting the Earth’s ‘frailty, vulnerability, and isolation amid the vast expanse of space’”,

She reminds us that “there is no definitive answer as to who actually pressed the shutter. Tragically it was the cause of years of arguments between the crew members – perhaps symbolising our inability as humans simply to share. An inability that could be said to drive most of the difficulties we experience as inhabitants of our beautiful planet to this day.”

And she prayed: “Creator God may be reminded of the fragility and yet impossible beauty of all life; and may we not see our place on this earth as our right, but as our privilege.”

May that be the prayer of all of us.