Polmont Old
Parish Church - Scotland
Parish Church - Scotland
Jerome's Jottings
Polmont Old Parish Church
Well, the drought has broken.
As I write this towards the middle of July (Deadline for 'Jottings' already long past - I swear that now I can even sense Sandra getting beady!), it is raining a lot. It occasionally does that in Scotland. I am led to believe that the UK idea of a drought is the absence of rain over three consecutive days.
'Real droughts'
I have experienced 'real' droughts, and they are tragic things. The rain just does not come. Weather reports are watched as matters of life and death. Humans have done everything they can to prepare and make ready the fields and the food. But the rain is needed, and it does not come.
The dams dry; water rationing is extended to far more than the hose pipe ban; all of society is galvanised to conserve water; unique ditties are created, such as the sign above the toilet door at the university residence: 'If it yellow, it's mellow; if it's brown, flush it down'.
In the countryside, it is much worse. The trees whither, the grass dies back completely until there is just soil and dust storms; the wild animals begin to die first, then the livestock, then the people..
Droughts are tragic things.
But the rains did come.
And the transformation to the land was swift and wondrous. Where there was a desert of cracked, dry earth, there was good soil. By the next day, little green shoots of grass began to poke their way out of the soil, the rivers flowed and the dams filled. Within so short a space of time, the land was re-created to greenery and beauty. That first rain after the drought was a miracle. There was no point in watching it safe indoors. You wanted to be out there, wanted to get wet, wanted to experience the new life for yourself. Exhilaration!
There is another kind of drought where you feel that you are in a dry place. There is nothing good that is ever going to happen again. It is as if you keep dialling God, but He does not answer the phone. Your cry is that of the Psalmist: "You were good to me, Lord; you protected me like a mountain fortress. But then you hid yourself from me and I was afraid." The feelings are those of loss and helplessness - of being abandoned and having nowhere to turn. The sense is one of despair. Droughts are tragic things.
Feelings are good fellow travellers, but poor guides. The truth remains that God is still that fortress, still that Father and still that friend. He has not shifted His position towards us and His embrace is as strong as it ever was. "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. His mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning. Great is thy faithfulness, O Lord."
Perhaps the indoors and the shadows are not for us. Perhaps, when we see God's transforming Spirit at work, we need to get out there, be part of the miracles that God is still performing, and get wet in the rain of His love.
Jerome
Polmont Old Parish Church
Well, the drought has broken.
As I write this towards the middle of July (Deadline for 'Jottings' already long past - I swear that now I can even sense Sandra getting beady!), it is raining a lot. It occasionally does that in Scotland. I am led to believe that the UK idea of a drought is the absence of rain over three consecutive days.'Real droughts'
I have experienced 'real' droughts, and they are tragic things. The rain just does not come. Weather reports are watched as matters of life and death. Humans have done everything they can to prepare and make ready the fields and the food. But the rain is needed, and it does not come.
The dams dry; water rationing is extended to far more than the hose pipe ban; all of society is galvanised to conserve water; unique ditties are created, such as the sign above the toilet door at the university residence: 'If it yellow, it's mellow; if it's brown, flush it down'. In the countryside, it is much worse. The trees whither, the grass dies back completely until there is just soil and dust storms; the wild animals begin to die first, then the livestock, then the people..
Droughts are tragic things.
But the rains did come.
And the transformation to the land was swift and wondrous. Where there was a desert of cracked, dry earth, there was good soil. By the next day, little green shoots of grass began to poke their way out of the soil, the rivers flowed and the dams filled. Within so short a space of time, the land was re-created to greenery and beauty. That first rain after the drought was a miracle. There was no point in watching it safe indoors. You wanted to be out there, wanted to get wet, wanted to experience the new life for yourself. Exhilaration!There is another kind of drought where you feel that you are in a dry place. There is nothing good that is ever going to happen again. It is as if you keep dialling God, but He does not answer the phone. Your cry is that of the Psalmist: "You were good to me, Lord; you protected me like a mountain fortress. But then you hid yourself from me and I was afraid." The feelings are those of loss and helplessness - of being abandoned and having nowhere to turn. The sense is one of despair. Droughts are tragic things.
Feelings are good fellow travellers, but poor guides. The truth remains that God is still that fortress, still that Father and still that friend. He has not shifted His position towards us and His embrace is as strong as it ever was. "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. His mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning. Great is thy faithfulness, O Lord."
Perhaps the indoors and the shadows are not for us. Perhaps, when we see God's transforming Spirit at work, we need to get out there, be part of the miracles that God is still performing, and get wet in the rain of His love.
Jerome
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