Monday, 29 October 2018

A Season of Rest



 The last three years have been hard. The battles are not over but I know that I am currently in a season of rest. Warning: Open-minded bonnets on now please… I am a believer, so when the battles of life rage, I always turn to the only true source of hope that I have: the God of the bible. When I say, ‘believer’ I don’t mean ‘Christian,’ I can’t use the term for myself given all the understandings and misunderstandings the term provokes. Besides, I’m a crap Christian. I prefer to think of myself as a meandering follower of Jesus via The Way, as it was termed by the early believers. I did not intend for this to turn into a theological exposition, but felt to state my case upfront, in case of misunderstanding. I have as much difficulty with organised religion as the average woman - or man – a nod to Life of Brian here. Hope you get this militant atheist/humanist friends. If you can’t, tie the bow on your caps and walk around outside for a bit.

Anyway, back to the season. In the book of Ecclesiastes we are told that there is a time for everything under heaven. If the bible is too hot for you to grasp, you can entertain the sentiment by listening to The Byrds musical version, Turn, Turn, Turn instead: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKP4cfU28vM I believe we need to discern and fully embrace the season we are in, in order to face the next season. I have a terrible habit of looking back, which only winds me up. In this context I shall provide you with an Oasis: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cmpRLQZkTb8 ‘link’ Don’t Look Back in Anger. Tenuous, I know. Their look back to The Beatles with those chords wasn’t though hey?

Anyway, here I am in a season of rest, albeit forced, and I am embracing it, resting, feeding body, mind and spirit, and getting stronger for the next season, for which I know I will need to be strong in at least one instance. I am writing, reflecting, and warbling along to music. As I do so, I take time to reflect I thank God for all the good gifts in my life, not least my astonishing husband and children. When I am tempted to dwell on the past beyond the appropriate telling of truth, I fix my attention on the God of hope and the treasure in my hands.

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