Paul writes that God speaks in creation. He writes not to us (as a teacher) but for us (as learners). We all need to learn this lesson, but we can only learn it by observing. Protestants read scripture, Catholics read doctrine and Orthodox read the fathers. But God speaks to everyone through nature. Yesterday I walked to Ninian's Point. It was a beautiful spring day, warm and buzzy. As ever there were few cars; mainly tractors. God spoke to me for a good two hours as I walked and observed. The hawthorn hedges were everywhere in blossom. One inch thorns were visible, embedded in cluster of white flowers. The thorns spoke of the crown Jesus wore to the Cross. The blossoms spoke of the saints clothed in white, protected by the thorn. A bee buzzed in front of me, gathering nectar to make this island truly a land of milk and honey. The bee gathered from the sweetness of the saints; our land can only be dripping with the promised honey when we too are sweet. In the roadside dirt a dandelion blossomed. Yellow gold reflecting the sun above. As Christ reflects the Father's likeness and blossomed from adamah (soil) in order to redeem the children of Adam. Nearby buttercups were also in glorious yellow gold, but smaller and lesser, like the angels were to Christ Jesus. Bluebells and other tiny blue flowers abounded, reminding me of the glory of God. A bullock, being fattened for autumn slaughter, sauntered up and stared. Its face exhibiting an alef - the long face, two horn and ears of the first letter of the Hebrew alef-bet. This letter stands for God and His power, but it is silent. As silent as Christ before His accusers. As silent as the Father at the Cross. A field of ewes and their lambs ate quietly nearby, reminding the walker that there is no longer any need for slaughtered bulls, for the Lamb has been slain. Later, an insect landed on the index finger of my left hand. I blew on him, but he only fluttered and settled down to warm himself in the full sun. I carefully ate my lunchtime roll, avoiding eating my new friend. Eventually he flew off. Was the insect he or she? I only knew that she wasn't an 'it'. She too was beautifully crafted and unique. The God who made the sun, who made me, also made this perfect insect and He did so with the same great and loving care.
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AuthorsPeter, Nickie and John. Archives
May 2019
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