desert instead of rainforest


Advent this year has found me stuck on the idea of waiting. In many ways, it has been a hard wait. A desert wait. It was fitting that I happened to be reading Isaiah this month – as I found myself daily identifying with the Israelites as they waited. Through the interminable “how long, Lord?”, holding onto the promise of a Saviour. 

On this side of that Bethlehem night, I know that the promised Saviour is now Immanuel. The promise has been fulfilled – so the wait should be somewhat less painful, no?

Perhaps. But it would be foolish to presume that because we live on this side, the dull nothingness of the waiting is any more pleasant. This month, I have been waiting along with the Israelites through a spiritual desert time. Nothing catastrophic, dramatic , just a lacklustre dullness. Blunt edges and feet in sand. What made this all the more painful was that I was supposed to spend this month in a rainforest, not a desert. Continue reading

why do we choose less than Promise?


Why do I choose eyes half shut and feel surprised when things seem grey and I have no vision?

Why do I choose heart half closed and wonder why I can’t love; why my words tear down more than build up?

Why do I choose hands half clenched and feel surprised when they are empty at day’s end?

Why do I choose seconds upon minutes upon hours of procrastination and wonder why my roots are so covered in sediment that Light can’t nourish them anymore. Then blame you for my brown-edged blossom. Though really I know I blame myself. Shame seals the sediment, and I accept the half-life. Continue reading