Migraine Fog

Get thee a cup of tea, I need coffee for my head!

I am having daily headaches. This isn't the first time this has happened. Hopefully it isn't a long season.

My migraines are not nearly as bad as they used to be, except for the daily part being less than encouraging.

I do not feel sorry for myself in the least, there are so many scary places, true tests of faith, in life, and this is but a blip.

I rejoice that God has been giving me more joy in reading the Word (Holy Bible) , than I have known in a long time. I think this is in great part, because recent turns of events in our church life here, have said "hang on, there is hope."

It's marvelous how much hope can do for our sense of well-being. And yet, it is one of those things I believe is truly a gift from God, one that cannot be summoned up by sheer force of will.

Though the words are different, I think the Bible verse "Be Not Afraid: Only Believe" apply in a sense...loss of hope often is accompanied with fear. Belief, not in things all being easy, not in our desires being fulfilled, but in the goodness of God, that even in a seemingly frowning providence He is dealing with us  mercifully and for our good. Belief based upon the promises of the Word of God, mixed with patience and time and viola, Hope!

I have never, likely will never, understand the appeal of faiths where one must "earn" salvation.
I cannot abide the neo-nomian (New Law) ideas which creep into the church like so many perennial weeds, which want to make our works a necessity FOR the salvation of our never dying souls vs. good and necessary consequences OF our salvation. But this is not a theology blog... I digress...it is a journeying blog...the kind you don't need petrol to take. I didn't stir up belief to be saved, indeed, the drawing and convincing was all that of God, I needed to step aside from the work, the wrangling, the trying and failing, from my own fears.

I have been blessed by two concepts that collided in my reading life. One was the title of Spurgon's "checkbook of faith" mixed and shaken together with the Memoir of Mrs. William Veitch. (She was the wife of a Scottish Covenanter, you shall likely hear more of her if I am able to keep up blogging) She often would say she'd taken thus and such scripture verse, as a "that word made out" to her and hers. These promises, in the word of God, are like so many checks made out by Him to us, they are not in the mail, they are in our hand, and we may, in faith bold or nervous, take them to the bank.

They will not bounce for they are "checks" written for our Soul's good and God's glory. Now Mrs. Veitch might read like a 1980's era charismatic to some, but she was the wife of a sound Presbyterian minister and a woman of sound biblical understanding and doctrine.

What I marveled at the most in her relation to these "words made out to her" was that she didn't have to haul out her well worn Bible (though better that than starve spiritually if one doesn't know the promises), she didn't "lucky dip" (that dubious practice of sticking one's finger into the bible as if it is a fortune telling tool, or intended to lead in that way) No, she had such a store of these "checks" of these promises stored up in her heart, that the Holy spirit would bring them to mind, or she would come across them in her "ordinary" that is, the daily reading of the word in the home.

On a side note, to my shame that I don't memorize much now, but to the glory of those who trained me in my youth, I still get so much mileage of encouragement and wisdom from the verses of the Bible I was put to learning as a child. That word never failed, and continues to be brought to mind. Parents, please try not to neglect this practice with your little's.

So, I'm rejoicing at a new delight in God's kindness to me, newly renewed in hope. I pray you are likewise blessed.

Til next time...when I'll try to start putting in quotes of Mrs. Veitch, in small bites for my friends who have nerve trouble when they read long passages.

I may well be the only one who gets this way....

      There are some posts people make on social media, some conversations heard amidst the reformed brethren, that make my heart sink. I only get this feeling once in a blue moon and I cannot for the life of me tell you what makes one theological comment or discussion bring it out, vs discussions that do not do so. If you have an answer to this, please let me know. I am sorry to be so obscure in this post...it's hard to be crystal clear when you can't put your finger on a thing.

It could be just what has been referred to as cage stage, that age of folk who are new to the reformed faith who go off half cocked and sound like they've invented the wheel themselves. It could be a unwise timing or lack of sensitivity in when such discussions are held. It could just be a flaw in me. It could be sin on my part.. Maybe I have some innate scale that gets one more straw of theological adamacy (not a real word)  about a doubtful disputation and I come tumbling down. Maybe it's being a GIRL. Maybe it's being older, and having seen my own days of unintentional smug and hoping I"m wrong and never was that way but highly suspecting it is so. EEK. If Calvin is right and pride is the root of all sin, well surely I was SMUG...probably still am and don't even know it. Lord deliver me from Smug! Ouch. 

This verse consoled me today...when the heart sank..." For who maketh thee to differ from another? and what hast thou that thou didst not receive? now if thou didst receive it, why dost thou glory, as if thou hadst not received it? ~ 1 Corinthians 4:7"

Don't get me wrong. I love theology. I think this "sense" I get is maybe when I feel we are losing sight of  Christ. Maybe it's just ME losing sight of the beauty of Christ? When we are speaking or hearing more of how the confession relates to xyz, with more passion and/or frequency than we are speaking of the beauty of Christ. This is why I love Samuel Rutherford so much. He had theology but he had more of Christ and his glory, his love, his compassion, his holiness trumped our "rightness" theologically. Our broken-ness seemed in his writings, to be miles more obvious than our head knowledge. Oh I am not for any sense of either or ..it isn't head knowledge OR heart knowledge. It isn't law work or heart work (to use the Scottish way of saying it) We have theology because we ARE broken.

I wonder if we have Christ because he loved us, and we have theology because we love him. We want to "get it right." We don't want to misrepresent God or his word and so we discuss and weigh, debate and sharpen iron. 

I have no answer to this heart sinking right now, that is, to why it happens, but I do have the antidote. When I feel this way, the answer is to read the word, to pray, to sing some psalms...and perhaps then to read some Rutherford and be reminded by him of the Love of Christ and his sufficiency and his holiness, and his beauty.  Oh may I be so Ravished with his Glory! Come quickly Lord Jesus!

It is the eve of the day, when most of the Christian world celebrates the incarnation. Some of us do not observe the church calendar, but we also rejoice in the incarnation on the Lord's. 

We all rejoice in the majestic words of Isaiah 6:9

"For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace."

The Manse Hen Anthem Click here.....Thank You Sara Groves!
I'm jesting. Or am I? Good news, moon is out, Heaven ahead!

A morning Ramble...

Good Morning. Table ready for a party of three...right this way...Filtered sun in my window this morning. I'm ragged without enough sleep, but the brain can't shut down so I'll sit a spell with the three folk who know I'm here...

If I were my sweet friend Sarah I'd have some scrumptious food to tell you about. Descriptions that would make one long for centuries old farmhouse tables with jam fingered children sitting round it, mama in her apron beside a wood cook-stove and roosters crowing in the background. I imagine onto this scene the sound of a screen swinging on it's hinges as husband and oldest return from the milking and little barefooted girls clamber inside, holding tightly to their apron corners lest the precious eggs be dropped. Alas, that isn't my world at all,though I delight in the pictures Sarah shares of her version of it.

As it is, I'm "starving" (if a woman of my shape could be remotely thought to be starving) and doing all I can to forget there are cookies in a box under my bed. How's that for enchanting?

There is contentment...understanding that all our realities have beauty in them, be they in the gritty city or the quiet countryside. Sarah's home-made Rye Bread in her cabin or my "whatever I find to eat that isn't cookies" breakfast. Godliness with contentment is great gain.

Some people don't like that word, Godliness. Another one, Piety, that gets a shudder. Even I, who love the Puritans, those lovers of piety...from whom I learned to be safe in the presence of such words... hold my breath when I read them in anything written by a living soul.

I hold my breath and prepare for brutal assault from whoever is writing it. Will they give me a list for which I do not measure up? Will they tell me it isn't necessary to be Godly? Will they bind my conscience with misapplied mishandled versions of God's law or man made applications I know all too well will trip me up and steal my joy in believing? Will they take my focus off of Him? and His WORD? That word that He was, that word that could touch a leper and leave behind a clean man?

Funny thing, people will write that they aren't making a new kind of legalism, that they are just giving suggestions of things that have helped them to "honor" God more. Be ye holy as I am holy says the Lord.

The difference is, the LORD can make me Holy. Has made me Holy, without spot by his obedience and death upon the cross. An extra biblical list of what that looks like...not so much.

Wow, I said that boldly "He has made me Holy" didn't I...mostly it's prayers upon the pillow,in the shower, in the silence along the way... so aware of my cold heart, of my neglect of HIM, of my spiritual sloth, that cry out "lord, please do not forget me, please do not give up on me, please help me..."

If you cannot pray as you would, nor as you should, pray as well as you can. 
~ Thomas Brooks

"God have mercy upon me a sinner."  " I believe, Help thou my unbelief."

The view from here...

My online friends are often subjected to rather gritty pictures of the view from my window. Though shot without talent or care, they please me. They feel iconic. Much of my life is the view from that window. I'm often unwell (She's "unwell" the manse hen. "What else is new?") and so I see the seasons come and go, the parishioners come and go, the neighbors (all together now)-come and go from that window.

When we first moved to "The Manse" we had a Beta Fish (RIP Augustine) who lived (and died) upon our coffee table. His abode was a columnar glass container with a small pagoda and colored glass on the bottom. The living room at that time, was carpeted with a color that in its heyday would have been spot on, but was after a few decades, decidedly not. It was probably the worst color upon which to place my aubergine sofa. It was a deep plush forest green. It struck me as wonderful to get Auggie some deep forest green rocks to see how long it would take someone to catch the implication that we, like Auggie, lived in a fishbowl. I never did get around to it and he passed on over lovely opalescent jade green stones. We haven't replaced him because he was just to much work. I remind myself this every time I think what I "really need" is a dog.

Are you dear reader, a sister Manse Hen? If so I'd love to hear from you. Are you a sister of that heavenly manse for which we all long? Please, come away in.

I wish I could say I was going to be writing something profound, pithy, erudite and most importantly encouraging. I don't have an agenda for this blog. People seem encouraged by my openness in the "oh she's a fool for Christ alright" kinda way, maybe you will be to? Drop by, ask questions, make suggestions, share your own tales, pull up a chair and have a cuppa, sit by your own fishbowl window and know you are not alone in this calling to be the lady of the manse, the fish in residence, the helper to the man with the proverbial or literal collar.  TTFN, The Manse Hen.