While fulfilling a pastoral position in Newcastle, I discovered that the house where we were living was not far from my father’s birthplace (27/9/1918). Of course, our street didn’t exist then, the area would have been bushland. Dad was born at Speers Point on Lake Macquarie when his father worked in the mines, and the family lived there at Boolaroo until he was about 14. So I set out to do some research in the local library to see what I could find.
History seems a lot more attractive in relation to one’s own story than it ever did at school…
And history must be important, the Bible is full of it! The history of God calling His people, giving them identity, direction, hope and future.
In researching history, we get a sense of perspective, and of context.
So there is the past.
Eddie Askew describes how his interest in the development of books, and therefore the history of books, has materialised into a modest collection. Apart from a scrap of Egyptian papyrus 1800 years old, his oldest piece is a single page of a 14th Century illuminated manuscript of Psalm 121. He confesses he is fascinated by the thought of some ancient believer, reading, gaining help and insight and comfort from these very books. Who, he wonders, having read Psalm 121 “The Lord is your guardian…” may have said their “Amen”?
And there is the present.
I recently used this quote from a book ‘The Choice’ by Sister Kirsty…
“It is not the place where you are that is the important thing. It is the intensity of your presence there. It is not the situation that counts. What counts is that you are fully alive in any situation… looking hard at the place where you are, instead of wanting to work wonders elsewhere.”
Sometimes we run away when we should stay put – sometimes we dig our heels in when we should move on. Sometimes we say “it is the Lord’s will”; sometimes that’s just what we call it.
If we are meant to move it is wrong to stay – if we are meant to stay it is wrong to move. And it isn’t always (or ever) easy to know what God is saying.
“…What counts is that you are fully alive in any situation… looking hard at the place where you are, instead of wanting to work wonders elsewhere.”
And there’s the future…
How are you coping with change? With the acceleration of change?
I get grumpy. Not with change as such, but with change that is not an improvement.
I read that change is more readily received, that we are more accepting when it is related to what we know, to what makes us feel anchored. We can better handle incremental change.
We grow used to things, to people, even to our exercises of worship and faith. We grow comfortable with them. It’s a good thing in a way, but it can drift into a lack of appreciation, a taking for granted, a loss of wonder, love and praise.
Jesus says, “Behold, I make all things new”
His steadfast love and grace are “new every morning”.
Time to pause?
Walking uphill is hard work, downhill is worse, harder on the knees. You reach a break point and tell your companions you are pausing, sitting on the rock to admire the view, but really it’s to get your breath back and ease your calf muscles.
But when you hit the high point and look out over distant mountains and vistas, all the sweat and aching legs are worthwhile. Something’s been achieved; you’ve discovered a new viewpoint, won a little victory.
Time to celebrate and give thanks.
Perhaps today is such a moment.
Psalm 121 – A song of ascents.
1 I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from?
2 My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.