Promises

This evening I was sitting in my car in the parking lot listening to this amazing song by Jon Hopkins. It was raining and I looked at the water droplets on my windscreen. Then I looked at the street lamp. Then I let my mind focus on the rain drops, while my eyes remained focused on the lamp. That's when I noticed something amazing.

Each rain drop had been transformed into a jewel, a circle of blue fractals, surrounded by a tiny, perfect rainbow and a halo of gold. The rainbows made me think of God's promise to Noah in Genesis. Each drop was like a tiny promise that He would never abandon the world. That the future would, somehow and against all odds, be a good one.

Whenever I let the focus of my eyes drift back toward the rain drops, they became ordinary, dull. I could look at them without really seeing them. When I looked at the light beyond, I could see them in all their glorious beauty.

And then my metaphor-loving brain kicked into action. I thought, what if the light is like God, and the rain drops are people? When I let my focus rest on God, I can see the people around me for what they really are - glorious reflections of the light that pervades and illuminates all of humanity, all of the cosmos. Each person becomes a prism for God's glory; their goodness, their truth, their love suddenly come into clear view. Maybe I normally don't notice these things, not because they aren't there, but because I'm not seeing people in their proper context - as beautiful creations of a wonder God.

When I focus on God's golden light echoing through the universe, each person becomes a rainbow, a promise from God. Billions of promises that the future can, somehow and against all odds, be a good one.

The Parable of the Geraniums

I was out watering my garden this morning and I found a flower on one of my geranium plants.

This is interesting because I originally had two geranium plants, one of them I planted in pretty shallow soil and the other one in deep soil. The first geranium plant bore lots of flowers after about two days. I was overjoyed, but puzzled as to why the other geranium didn't have any. The flowers lasted for another couple of days and then died. This geranium has slowly been dying ever since. Now there are a few green leaves on it but most of them are brown and its stalk is all withered.

The second geranium just sat there for weeks. Its leaves were still green so I knew it was alive but it didn't seem to be thriving. Its leaves were sort of slightly curled up and it was... well... just sitting there.

But today, at least a month later, probably more like two months, it finally has a single flower, and still looks happy and green.

This reminded me in a really concrete way of Jesus' similar parable. And it made me realise the point of that comparison - it's not actually a good thing to do lots of good stuff and look like you're doing really well straight away. If you bury yourself deep in the soil of God's love and His word, then the fruit will come.
But you have to be patient. It won't come straight away, and you might only get one change at a time.

I find this so comforting because it makes me realise how true Jesus saying was "my yoke is easy and my burden is light." I mean seriously - ALL we have to do is revel in God's love? We don't actually have to work changes in those impossible areas ourselves?
I also find it comforting because it shows me that sometimes there might be times in our lives where we feel like we are not bearing much fruit. But that doesn't mean we're "backsliding". A church I used to attend used to tell us that if you aren't moving forward in God, then you're backsliding. You can't just stand still. And I understand what they mean but at the same time that idea can cause lots of anxiety if it's taken wrongly (or presented wrongly).
Sometimes you might feel like you are at a standstill. But if we rest deep in God's love we will never stop bearing fruit.

Paradoxes Are Cool

We approach the truth from many sides. Some may appear to contradict each other - like two waves travelling in opposite directions.
The waves hit, collide, and send up a spike of water that transcends all our approximations and reaches the pinnacle of the truth.
Even if we cannot ourselves ever imagine these high truths, our approximations, our labels, our descriptions, our wrestling with the paradox, all point us towards them and enable us to grasp them just that little bit more with our minds.

Paradoxes lead us further into God's mystery.
That's why they're cool.

Unfortunately what normally happens is the second scenario - our views appear contradictory, so we kill each other. I've used pretty contradictory views but it even happens with paradoxical disputes within monotheism, and even within Christianity.
But I think it's happening less and that's positive.