On the subject of wilderness

Lent begins in a wilderness, and ends in a desolate place. Over these past few weeks I can't say that I have been in a wilderness, but could argue that I've been taming a wilderness. A small patch of land, about 60 sq m which is hopefully going to grow our vegetables for the coming year. It was part of a field covered with grass, nettles, brambles, docks and no doubt many other exciting varieties of weeds (sorry, wild flowers) that I have yet to discover. It has never, to my knowledge ever grown a crop worth eating, unless you count dandelions.
It has been hard work, and will continue to be so because many of the weeds will re-grow from the small pieces of root which we have been unable to remove, and they will do this throughout the seasons unless we continue to bend down and remove them. We would like to garden organically, and that it going to make the going even tougher, but if we percevere then we shall win the battle, and from a task which at the start seemed soul destroying we shall harvest something beautiful (I am an eternal optimist!) and I shall be fitter!
Most wilderness times in our lives can seem like a constant and soul destroying battle, but working through them, rather than sinking into them, can enable us to grow stronger and rise victorious from a dark and lonely place.

Fog

 

 This last week we had a few days 1000ft up a hillside in South Yorkshire where relatives have a dairy farm. We were greeted by a fog so thick we could see no further than a few metres. I knew that beyond the stone wall in front of the farmhouse there was a glorious view over open countryside but it was impossible to see because of the fog. It was only on the morning that were were about to leave that the air cleared and allowed us to view and appreciate the snow covered panorama stretching around us.

Do you ever view your faith like that? You know God is all around, about and above you but for some reason you are engulfed by a fog of doubt or unbelief that threatens to overwhelm? There's nothing wrong with you - life is sometimes like that for many of us, and at times like that we have to hold on to the truth that we know. 

Just like I knew the glorious view was there beyond the fog, I had to be patient until I could once again see it and thank God for it. And when life seems engulfed in a thick fog then we do the same. We remind ourselves of the goodness of God, our knowledge of his love in our lives and his many blessings... and gradually the fog clears and we see him once again.

Worship and song

I find myself every now and then thinking about the story of Matt Redmond's church and how, at a particular moment in its development it seemed right to stop singing, and just wait on God until it seemed right to start again.
How frustrating that must have been at the start?!
It is so easy to fall into the 'vain repetitions' that Jesus talked about with prayer, when we sing both favourite and less familiar hymns and songs. Do we love the words or concentrate on the tune or harmony? Are we thinking about the theology and truth behind it as we sing or are we just going through the motions.  Admitedly we might struggle with the language if it is an old one (or the poor poetry of a new one!) but hands up if in the last few weeks you've got to the end of a hymn and not really connected with the thought behind it?
How many of us would be brave enough to suggest having a worship service without and singing, just concentrating on God's word and prayer?
Would it help? Concentrate the mind a little? Remind us that worship is more than a catchy song or two from our favourite worship leaders or hymn writers?