4.30 wake-up call

I was awake at 4.30am today (cheers jet-lag!) and as I was also (oddly!) full of energy, I grabbed a coffee and plonked self in front of the big window, to watch the sun come up at 6.20.

The most beautiful sunrise I ever saw, was in Uganda about 8 years ago. We were there with a crew from ITV making a documentary about HIV and Aids. We’d had 3 hugely long, hot and dusty days of filming, when the beloved producer suggested getting up early, to climb a hill and watch the sun come up.

“I’d be delighted to..” I said with a murderous, gritted-teeth smile.

But in the end, I’m glad I did haul self out of bed at 4.45am, because as we stood there overlooking a collection of villages which had been rampaged by Aids, little whispery tendons of orange started to streak the sky, followed by hues of blues and greens, till the sun was resolutely in the sky.

We mostly didn’t say a word, just stood there, watching, probably most of us thinking about some of the tragedy we’d seen that week….but for me at least, it seemed like God was saying, “despite all the tragedy you’ve seen, I am still at work, I’m still here…I still make the sun come up each day…”

This morning as I drank coffee and watched the sun show its face over (the slightly less beautiful) Stoke-on-Trent, I was mulling over bits of Psalm 19 which I read the other day;

“The heavens keep telling the wonders of God, and the skies declare what he has done. Each day informs the following day; each night announces to the next. They don’t speak a word, and there is never the sound of a voice. Yet their message reaches all the earth, and it travels around the world. In the heavens a tent is set up for the sun.”

My favourite bit is the simple message, that God doesn’t have to say a word, because creation does it for Him. And when I see a sunrise or a sunset or stand in a doorway while a huge tropical storm rages, it knocks all of life’s dramas into perspective. It doesn’t necessarily give us answers, but to me at least, it’s God saying, “I’m still in control…I’ve got ya…”

Ugandan sunrise


Don’t judge a book by its cover…

They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover….you shouldn’t look at a person and make an assumption about their life.

Well, sometimes, I do. And today I was badly tripped up by my own nasty preconceptions.

I’m at a big music conference in the US; great speakers, inspiring music and lots and lots of lights, smoke, gloss, shiny hair and put-together lives. The speakers are real pros, brilliant at what they do, full of wit and wisdom…I’m having a ball.

Today’s final speaker was sitting at a table not far from me. I knew her from the glossy picture in the brochure and in person, she didn’t disappoint. She was gorgeous to look at, shoes to drool over, enviable worked-out figure and a bright,white, white smile.

It was dark in the room, but my brain took in the loveliness and decided she must have had the sort of life featured in films; you know, huge double-fronted white clad mansion, success, few problems…and plenty of happy, well-adjusted, all-American children. A judgement? Certainly not a bad judgement, but still I’d judged her by the cover.

To start off, I wasn’t proved wrong – her delivery was sweet, effortless, charming and I found my mind wandering toward what shampoo she used, in order to get her hair *that* shiny. I can never get my hair to do that….

But halfway through her talk, like she’d read my mind, she suddenly revealed the secret to the luscious locks. She doesn’t use shampoo at all.

The glossy, slick, gorgeous mane was a wig.

She has cancer. A real nasty, virulent rare form of cancer that has a very low survival rate, but because they found it at stage 1, she’d been told she might make it. She’s at the tail end of 8 months of chemo, 2 surgeries…and that is after she endured years of infertility ,business collapse, loss of her home….and what she described as ‘God systematically removing every idol in my life’. On the big screen, she put up a picture of her at her worst, pale, skinny, bald and oh-so-sick.

I sat there, mind kinda whirling…how wrong can you be? She’s been through SO much stuff and she admitted that even though the exterior looks well-presented, she’s still working through her ‘junk’ and the ‘whys’ and the ‘what ifs’.

You could hear a pin drop in the room, as brains probably began to clunk that, ‘oh, erm…maybe she’s just like me…she’s had pain, she gets it…life isn’t always a bed of thornless roses’.

Or at least that’s what I was thinking…mingled in with some choice guilt for jumping to an unpleasant conclusion, before she’d barely uttered a word.

Today, I think God used her to cut right through the clutter of the noise and the lights and the fuzzy fame…to make it real and remind me (at least) that not everyone who looks like they have it together, actually does.

Everyone has a story. Hers was about pushing through cancer, infertility, home and business loss and all the heartache and absolute agony of that. My story might not be as ‘dramatic’ as cancer or losing a million-dollar business, but we can all tell a tale about grief or loss or sadness or things we wish we’d done, or not done. But, mostly, we get pretty good at covering up the real version. Is it just easier that way?

But today when this speaker told her story, you could see heads nodding, a few damp eyes…because everyone could empathise with at least part of what she was saying. Later, in group sessions, you could overhear fragments of other stories being told around the room; heroin addiction, suicide…one woman just felt she’d never been quite ‘good enough’ and that had coloured every decision she’d ever made.

It was weird and freeing and liberating and moving all in one go. Sort of like the speaker had been real and normal…and given everyone else permission to drop the pretense, take off ‘the wig’ and do the same.

I think we’ve all got a story….but we’re not all brave enough to share it.

Prayer….a weird and wonderful thing

A weird and wonderful sort of thing happened to me this week.

I’m on holiday and I’m staying with some friends in a top secret, undisclosed location (sorry, hardly a State secret, I just always wanted to say that!!) But, I’m loving the sun, the crickets chirping away, the relaxation and the mound of brilliant books I’m getting through, while basking in the 31 degree heat. I am basically unwinding in glorious, spectacular fashion.

But, the other night, my friends introduced me to one of their relatives. She seemed quiet, shy and I spoke to her for less than 30 seconds… but she seemed so sad. I knew very little about her, other than her mum had died a few years ago and she had some serious health problems…but it kept coming back to me; sad…sad…sad.

I went to bed and twice in the middle of the night, I woke up and she was on my mind. I was half awake but I prayed for her. The first was a groggy-eyed prayer, along the lines of asking God to give her peace and hope and then I dozed back into a fitful sleep.

A few hours later, I nodded awake again, and there it was…she was on my mind still. Again, I prayed like the time before, for hope, for peace and then the blackness of jet lag descended once more and I was out cold.

I got up late the next day, the house was quiet, but over breakfast, my friends delivered the news…the girl had tried to commit suicide in the middle of the night. Thankfully, she’d been found and had been admitted to a unit. But I couldn’t believe it and just kept saying, ‘I woke up twice and prayed for her…but I didn’t know why’.

I don’t know the specifics but I love the fact that God knew something was way wrong, even though I consciously didn’t. I don’t know if my prayers contributed to her being found…but I do know that God puts people on our heart for a reason.

And I think that even if it feels completely stupid, it’s not going to hurt anyone if I pray…and who knows what might be happening to them at that very moment? Maybe that random prayer could stop someone from tying a noose around their neck or help them to recover from an awful illness. I’ll never know, if I don’t try.

I hope God wakes me up like that, more often.

P.s… This is my view, as I write…


Go on…surprise me…

I like surprises. I always have done.

They don’t have to be extravagant, budget-stretching surprises, but sometimes just an email to say, ‘thinking of you’ or a card in the post, can make the difference between a good day and a not-so-good day.

Last week, I was feeling a bit rough and woke up one morning with a bad case of the dawdling doldrums…or the DDs.  I laid in bed and thought grumpy thoughts for a while, but not surprisingly, that didn’t help, so I got up, made a cuppa and picked up a devotional I’ve been meaning to read for a while.

That day’s reading was all about surprises and how God is a) not surprised when we are upset or stressed and b) He actually likes to surprise us with good stuff.

I couldn’t find any exact theological evidence to back it up, but it made sense. God loves me, so it’s sort of logical that He’d do nice things. The challenge at the end of the reading was, ‘Ask God to surprise you today’.

So I did. It was a fairly simple prayer (in the mornings, I am always VERY simple!!) along the lines of; ‘ I don’t mind what it is, but I’d love it if I could feel that sense of ‘awe’ again. Please could you surprise me somehow, today.’  Maybe it was a bit selfish, after all, I’ve friends who are suffering awfully at the moment, and that’s before I even begin to think more widely about the world, but in the depths of the ‘DDs’, I thought I’d ask for a bit of divine intervention anyway.

The day ticked on and I actually forgot the prayer, till about 9pm when I logged into Facebook and nearly fell off my perch.

There was a PM from an old friend that I had long lost touch with. It’s one of those friendships where you instantly click and though we’d only spent a couple of weeks together, sharing a house, we kept in touch. But time and distance had done their work and I think we’d last spoken about 8 years ago. But now here she was, in my Facebook inbox.

Her message was even more special….she’d taken the day off sick and for reasons she didn’t understand, had been thinking about me. She said I’d been on her mind all day and she’d been praying for me…till in the end, she got online to try and find me.

I worked it out; because of the time difference, at the point I was asking God for a ‘surprise’, she was sleeping, but when she woke up, I was on her mind.

Bit overwhelming really, because to me it says that God cares about all of my small needs, as much as my big ones.

He doesn’t always answer prayer the way we want him to and He definitely does it in His timeframe, but I think he always, always makes his presence known, often through little things like this. This sweet, unexpected message just reminded me that He’s got the details sorted.

I love surprises….especially the God-kind. :).

I’m running away….

I first discovered running about 8 years ago. A friend told me that at first, I’d feel like a tractor was reversing over me; chest, legs, bum…everything would beg for mercy….but if I kept going just a teeny bit more, apparently, if I didn’t drop dead at that point, it then got pretty flipping good.

So I tested the theory, I didn’t die…and whahey, turns out she was right, the endorphins are very, VERY flipping good!

But being honest, much of the past 8 years has been, ‘run like a freak for 2 weeks’ followed by ‘not do much at all for 3 months’. But a couple of months ago, I decided that I was going to seriously push through the 2 week barrier and KEEP going.

And so for the past month, I’ve been running around 30k every week and I’ve discovered this thing my friend Sara calls, ‘Runpeace’.

It’s this moment, usually after the ‘I must be mad, I’m gonna DIE’ phase has passed, where I’m suddenly floating….and in my case, I feel like I can really, really talk to God. It’s even better if you happen to be running up a mountain (yes… I attempted Moel Famau in North Wales today!!), surrounded by the very best creation has to offer.

And today, I stopped to take a glug of water (and breathe…which helps in the whole staying alive business) and there it was; glorious sun glinting out from behind a line of spectacularly arranged clouds, lush, green valleys, not a soul or sound to be heard, other than the odd pitiful sheep bleat….and wow, it was like a tiny glimpse of Heaven.

I was just overwhelmed by the beauty around me…no other word to describe it…and the peace and the feeling that me and God were up there alone and that He was listening to me…no one else…just me. So, I grabbed the opportunity and said everything out loud, that had been in my head…a sort of prayer mixed with thankfulness (and if I’m honest!) a bit of a whinge too!

But as I stood there, and took in the view, I got my breath back and kept on jogging up the next bit. And the next bit of view was even more amazing. I felt a bit weepy that God had made all this, just for me to look at and enjoy…and maybe also to make me feel a bit more connected to him.

‘Runpeace’. Love it! 🙂

How to have an adventure….

At church recently, we sang the song which begins with the line, ‘There must be more than this….’.

I looked around at the group of worshippers, not entirely sure that any of us were really absorbing the words….but later it made me think.  What do we really mean, when we sing, ‘There must  be more than this?’

The Bible’s a pretty good guide for this kind of thing (ha!) and  my brain flicked back to Paul and all that he endured for the Gospel.

A few years back, I was in Malta in a place called St Paul’s Bay, which is the place where Paul was said to have been shipwrecked.  There is a little stretch of land offshore, where a huge statue of Paul stands.   I remember one day, walking along the shore and looking out at that statue and thinking about Paul’s ‘thorn in the flesh’ and how, in addition to that,  he endured snake bites, threats of  death, beatings, jail and so much more.  He must have,  at times, utterly despaired  at all he was enduring for the sake of Jesus.    But he could do it, because he’d simply had a glimpse of ‘more’.   He knew, deep down, into the depths of his socks, that there was MORE, that it WAS worth dying for, being beaten for….he’d caught a glimpse of the glory of God and he was happy to give up everything in its pursuit.

But, in my life, which is fairly comfortable, how do I get to the point of needing/wanting ‘more’?  Why is it so easy to settle and be satisfied with my relationship with God, when the Bible says there is something literally ‘incomparable’ to be had.   Why would I settle for anything less?

At work, the radio is always on (tuned to UCB, of course!) and some days, I am so busy, I don’t really ‘hear’ it, but yesterday, I heard one of our regular contributors talk again about ‘surrender’.

To get ‘more’, you have to ‘surrender’ and that’s not just a nice word in a song, that means literally saying to God, ‘I am DONE doing it my way…take everything….the good bits, the bad bits, the attitudes, the grumps, the things I watch, the things I read and listen to….the friendships, the family….everything.’

Probably just about the scariest thing you can ever do….and yet, it’s also pretty crazily  liberating to chuck everything up in the air and say, ‘I can’t do it on my own….but I know I can, with the ‘more’ that God offers.

It’s a completely insane adventure…and one that can take you to places you’d never dreamed.    It probably involves some risk, some pain and sometimes even being misunderstood.     But I like adventure…and I want to try this one… 🙂

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