Forsaken

 

 "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" Psalm 22:1

We here behold the Saviour in the depth of His sorrows. No other place so well shows the griefs of Christ as Calvary, and no other moment at Calvary is so full of agony as that in which His cry rends the air - "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" At this moment physical weakness was united with acute mental torture from the shame and ignominy through which He had to pass; and to make His grief culminate with emphasis, He suffered spiritual agony surpassing all expression, resulting from the departure of His Father's presence.

This was the black midnight of His horror; then it was that He descended the abyss of suffering. No man can enter into the full meaning of these words. Some of us think at times that we could cry, "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" There are seasons when the brightness of our Father's smile is eclipsed by clouds and darkness; but let us remember that God never does really forsake us. It is only a seeming forsaking with us, but in Christ's case it was a real forsaking. ... the real turning away of God's face from His Son, who shall calculate how deep the agony which it caused Him?

In our case, our cry is often dictated by unbelief: in His case, it was the utterance of a dreadful fact, for God had really turned away from Hin for a season. ... remember that He has not really forsaken thee ... but since even the thought that He has forsaken us gives us agony, what must the woe of the Saviour have been when He exclaimed, "My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me?" 

(Taken from Morning and Evening by Charles Spurgeon, April 15th.)

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

Lasts

When our children are growing, we often don't recognise or realise the significance of lasts.

The last time we tuck them into bed at night. 

The last time they climb into our lap for a story or a cuddle.

The last time we wait for them to get home at night.

The last time we have to remind them to do their chores.

The last time we have to help them with something before they learn the skills themselves.

These lasts often go unnoticed. And it's not until sometime later that we realise their importance.

The same is true for when we lose someone. 

I've been thinking a lot about these lasts in the recent loss of my mother-in-law.

The last time I took her shopping or to a doctor's appointment.

The last time I heard her tell a particular story.

The last time I walked up to the nursing home to visit.

The last time we celebrated her birthday.

Whatever the last, had we known it was the last time would we have shown more patience? Or interest? Or been more present and engaged? Would we have held onto the moment more tightly? Or would we have continued to be unaware, letting the significance of the lasts elude us?

I'm reminded that the disciples also experienced some lasts ... and, like us, perhaps didn't realise the significance until later.

The last Passover with Jesus. He even warned them that He would not be with them for much longer, but they failed to listen or fully comprehend.

The last time praying with Him in the garden. Had they realised, would they have made more of an effort to stay awake?

The last time hearing His words. Not until later would they fully understand.

The last time.

How many of them would have done things differently, had they only known it was the last time? It's human nature to look back with regret and wonder what we could have done differently. However, everything, from Peter's denial, to His disciples abandoning Him when He was in greatest need, was all foretold.

And only later would they understand.

Photo by Pawan Sharma on Unsplash

Pirated

Perhaps I should feel complimented ... but I don't. At least two of my books that I know of have been pirated to be used in AI training.

Apparently "AI companies need books for their quality writing, style, expression, long-form narration and content". (See here for full story and more information.) 

At any other time, I'd feel gratified to be included amongst those whose work is considered to be in the category of "quality writing, style, [and] expression". But not today.

With another book due to be published any time now, it feels like a slap in the face when the time and effort and sweat and tears that I - and countless others like me - put into writing can be so easily stolen and then used to produce AI generated works.

I don't write to get rich. I write because I feel called to write. In fact, there's a reason I still have a day job. But if and when my work is given away for free, it's because I choose to do so. Using someone else's intellectual property without their permission and/or reimbursement is theft.

For any New Zealand writers, follow the link above to determine if your work has been stolen, and, if so, the steps to lodge formal complaints. 

(Note: Intellectual Property Theft is not limited to New Zealand writers. However, I am unfamiliar with the laws of other countries. Author societies would be a good place to begin if you're concerned.)

A Teaser

Life has been busy over recent months with a flying visit to Australia for my mother's eightieth birthday (which was a small affair out of consideration for my mother's health) ...

While there, we managed to do a small amount of sightseeing ... 

and despite there being little time for research or writing (which was not the purpose of the trip this time anyway), I was able to briefly revisit some of the places that feature in my books. I also had the privilege of talking to a senior assembly at a Christian school about my writing and books. I have a feeling that I inspired at least one student to trust the Lord with their dreams.

Since returning home, I've been busy with the proofs of my latest book, which I'm happy to report are now done. I'm hoping my next post I'll be able to share the news that this latest book in A Day For You series has gone to the printers.

Who Are You This Christmas?

 

I've recently taken a break from my usual read-through-the-Bible programme to read through the Scriptures in both the Old and New Testaments that talk about Jesus' birth. In the busyness of this time of year it's lovely to be able to take some time to read over and reflect on the well-known passages once again. However, this time around, one of the things that has really struck me has been the response of each of the human characters scattered throughout the story. 

Mary, who bowed to God's plan for her life despite all that it would mean. 

Joseph, who did the honourable thing.

Elizabeth and Zechariah, whose son would go before to prepare the way.

Anna, who recognised the Baby as the Redeemer of Israel and wasn't afraid to tell of Him to everyone she met.

Simeon, who had been looking forward to Christ's coming and rejoiced to see it.

The shepherds, who immediately left their work to go find Him.

The wise men, who spent time and effort to find the Babe so that they could worship.

King Herod, who was not so much interested as he was terrified about how this birth could threaten his existence.

And the townspeople. Those who made room for Him and who came to pay homage. Wait, that didn't happen at all. No, most, if not all, continued on with their life as if nothing earth-shattering, life-changing, history-making, far-reaching, not to mention supernatural and never-before-known, had just occurred.

How many of these characters are like those we come across today? How many really care that the Son of God came down into a broken world to redeem us to Himself and then was practically ignored?

How many are like Herod who wanted to completely annihilate the existence of Christ because He threatened all that they hold dear?

How many are like the townspeople, the neighbours, perhaps even some were relatives, who just didn't care? Let them go about their own business and you go about yours but don't bother them with talk about Jesus?

How many are an Anna or Simeon who actually cared and understood?

Or shepherds, perhaps not fully understanding, yet had no choice but to worship regardless?

Or wise men, whose search for wisdom brought them to bow down at the feet of Jesus?

More importantly, this Christmas, which character in the story are you?

(Nativity scene crafted by my older granddaughters. Youngest grandchild - to date - in the manger.)

The Hills

Last weekend DH and I spent some time helping Son#4 and his wife pack up their home in anticipation of renovations starting this past week. The plan is that they will be complete before baby arrives ... but as DIL#3 can attest, renovations and babies never go according to plan. I'm not sure why it is in our family that we participate in renovations at the most inconvenient of times and with the brightest of hopes - given the evidence around us - but we do.

Saturday afternoon was lovely for Spring in the Capital and we took some time out to go for a walk through bush that is being regenerated alongside a small creek. That such a haven can be found in the midst of a city was a surprise to me (being rather unfamiliar with cities) and as I gazed around, I was reminded of the Psalmist's words: I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth (Psalm 121:1-2).

I will lift up mine eyes. Something we all need to remember - and do - whether we are in the midst of renovations, or trial, or just life.

A Lone Voice

 

Other Christians have said it better and I don't have influence over a huge blog following, but perhaps that's the whole point. Sometimes a lone voice has to speak up. And where in the months and months of planning and thrashing out details, was the lone voice? Why was not one voice heard to ask, "Is this really how we want to present ourselves to the rest of the world?"

I'm talking about the opening ceremony of the 2024 Olympic Games. 

According to headlines, Christians worldwide have been offended and outraged. I can understand the backlash, but I'm not sure that I feel outraged. More just sad. Perhaps a little frightened because it shows how dark our world as become. But more sad than anything.

Sad for the depravity of mankind.

And sad for the French people.

I don't know a lot about France and its citizens. I studied French at school and learnt a little about the culture and history and language of that country. My teachers often emphasised its cuisine and beauty, its fashion and classical arts, its architecture and lifestyle. And yet, in recent days, those chosen to represent France to the rest of the world, rather than celebrating the good, it was as if they deliberately highlighted and celebrated their shame. Actually delighted in it.

Why any of us have been surprised by what has happened, I don't know. Perhaps because it appeared so blatant and even out of place. As a child, along with countless other families at the time, we gathered as a family around the TV and watched the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games. It was entertainment. It was fascinating. It often highlighted the national pride citizens had in their country. It set the tone for the rest of the Games. Yet this was not something I would have wanted any young child to witness in 2024.

Despite their protestations that they didn't intend to offend anyone, as Christians we have to remember that the world will hate us. Jesus said that just as He was hated, we would be too. But we also need to remember that as Jesus was dying on the cross, He was mocked by the very people He came to save. Those crucified alongside Him. The soldiers. Even the religious leaders. It should not be any surprise then that the world mocks Him now. 

Yet, just as on the cross, He offered forgiveness to the thief that repented, He extends the same offer of salvation to the very ones who mock Him now. The same offer of love and grace and mercy towards the very ones who mock Him ... towards those condemned and caught in their own sin and shame ... towards those who have no idea of the danger of their eternal souls as they flaunt their sin and laugh at everything that is holy.

Jesus came to save them. The sinner. The depraved. The mocker. He loves them just as He loved us and called us while we were still sinners. 

And perhaps more than outrage or offense, or any other response, we need to focus on this: that our God is able to save even the most hardened sinner. 

[Photos courtesy of cyril mzn on Unsplash]