Skip to main content

Beyond Shelter

 




We have a new pup at home and recently she has discovered a new favourite sleeping place, below the armchair.   In a few weeks Bella will be too big to fit under there, but along with her bed which has high walls around and sleeping against our legs or against the sofa, it’s clear that she likes to sleep in a place that has a measure of safety and the reassurance of some kind of shelter.  

Harriet and I have been attending an online Anglican conference earlier this week called ‘Beyond the Storm’, full of really helpful talks and seminars and discussions as church leaders look at where we have got to and start to look at the new landscape emerging as the storm of Covid slowly passes on(we hope).    It’s a little like the closing scenes of a disaster movie that I watched in which a family just makes it to a remote place for shelter as  a cataclysm shakes the world ( I can’t actually remember what it was now) in an extinction level event.  The deep doors close just in time as the shockwaves hit (keeping the dramatic tension to the very last minute).  Then we scroll forward 9 months later as the survivors open the great doors and emerge into what is left after the storm ( I think it was meteors).   Blinking they come out into the weak sunshine to find a changed but recognisable earth and slowly messages come in over the radio from other small similar bands that have made it through and as those voices come over the airwaves the film fades away to the credits. 

The message is clear, the shelter has saved them, but now it is time to slowly emerge and rebuild what they can, a new day is dawning and there is hope beyond the great suffering and loss.   And so it is with us today.  Small signs of hope are already emerging even just in our own church; as I write we are painting a prayer labyrinth and a few markers for children to play on our church grounds. Our Fence of Sorrow and Hope launches tomorrow as a public space for folk to mark in different ways the passing of this year on March 23rd.  And of course spring flowers are everywhere now and the buds are starting to appear and even unfurl in some places.  And we are moving towards Easter morning.

And of course the God who promises us shelter:  Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty
is also the God who leads us out into the new morning You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace.  None of this is easy or guaranteed, but as we can be thankful for what shelter we had during the storm of the last year so we can know that as times slowly change we do well to recover and rebuild together with others.   Just this morning I came across a scheme to “spread colour and pollinator havens by spreading a free pouch of bee-diverse wildflower seeds”.  Couldn’t put it better myself!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Friendship and the Unspectacular

  I’m just back from a day with my pal Richard on, in his terms, a ‘cheeky wee Corbett’ (a Corbett is   a hill between 2,500-2,999feet) near Crianlarich.   Beinn nan Imirean can’t actually be seen from the road and is surrounded by much higher peaks both close by but also on the wider horizon, as we were to discover.     It was a bit of a slog as the ground was rough and paths were few and sketchy but as we climbed slowly out of the frosty and frozen Glen Dochart with it’s -6 degrees C temperature and low lying cloud this was more than compensated for by the wonderful views that opened up in the clear winter sunshine.   Finally from the top we had a good panoramic view over many miles and could indulge in one of our favourite mountain top past times…identifying all the hills we could see, Richard’s knowledge   being much more extensive than mine, since he has climbed far more of them. As 2026 opens up I want to share a few take aways from this...

Lambing Snows and Holy Week

  (photo courtesy of Abi Bull, Isle of Skye) Lambing snow is the name given to an early spring snowfall that can catch some of the wee lambs out who are born at the start of the season.   Farmers have to watch out for this and, given care and shelter, the lambs are usually able to survive.   It coincides too with the images of daffodils emerging through a covering of late snow,   a similar sign of hope and new life in a forbidding and even hostile environment. Nevertheless there is something beautiful of this setting of fragile life against the rawness of nature, something that speaks to the heart of the human condition and the poignancy of it all.   I write this on a Good Friday which is set in a global context of much uncertainty and even fear and desperation.    The centuries old story that we are taken back to again and again by the turning of the season, of a God who died for a suffering and broken world, seems to have more resonance than ever. ...

A Solstice Nudge

  A Solstice Nudge At 3.47am this morning the solstice took place and the earth started its' long journey back towards summer (in the northern hemisphere at least!).   I always feel my heart lighten a little when this happens. It’s all about the direction of travel as I have so often said to people struggling with circumstances or a seeming lack of progress.    And the fact that I know we are heading towards warmth and light makes all the difference in the dark and the cold.   It reminds me that my current situation, however stalled it may feel, will one day pass. Such a change though rarely takes place in a dramatic and obvious ‘before and after’ kind of way.   Rather it feels like a nudge.   You would have to be looking very closely to notice that little tilt of the earth that starts the process.   I’ve just been looking at my weather app and over the next few days the sunset time moves by a minute each day: today:15.44;   23 rd : 15.45...