A meditation on God's character
Lord, your goodness surprises me,
surpassing my miniscule imagination
overwhelming what I think is good
and nourishing me more than I thought possible.
Your faithfulness leaves me breathless,
winded by your grace.
My heart skips as I allow it to enter me freshly.
Peace should not be this simple to receive!
All it takes is a bowed knee,
the confession that I was wrong,
the recognition of my selfishness,
and a heart-felt sorry.
I reflect that I cannot change in my own strength.
I tried, and keep trying,
but I know it's not enough. It never is!
I'm just not strong enough.
Make me strong in your strength
may I stand on you, my rock.
Let me soar like the Japanese bullet train,
fuelled and inspired by your spirit.
Your strength never runs out,
your spirit never runs dry.
I've tried so much,
yet nothing comepares to you:
Only you can satisfy me.
You alone, my Lord, my God.
TheWeeScottie
---------------------------------------------------------------
weird is just your own personal brand of normal
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Listening & responding
Dave Bish recently blogged on reading/listening to sermons via mp3 download. This is a short portion of what he said:
'On the positive side of new technology I can get access to gifted teachers who can help me to love Jesus more, just as in previous generations I could have read the sermons of a Spurgeon or a Lloyd-Jones alongside commentaries and other Christian books. On the negative side, it's easy enough to be a sermon junkie who is ever listening and never responding to the preached word' (full version here)
I felt humbly rebuked & encouraged symultaneously. I was reminded how we are so very privileged to be able to read or listen to quality teaching: from the day before, to several centuries before, from Spurgeon and Lloyd-Jones to John Piper and Mark Driscoll. I've not read much Spurgeon or Lloyd-Jones, but I know that I've found a lot of what Piper and Driscoll preach very helpful and often well applied. But therein lies the temptation, to approach sermons like the Churchill dog: nodding and nodding, saying 'ooooh yes'. And to leave it at that. Shut down the computer, turn off the iPod and tune back into our lives - with no change. There's the rebuke - what's my attitude towards preaching? Sometimes I think I far too easily approach the message on Sunday morning as ticking a box in my week, when in fact this message, this gospel is the good news of Jesus Christ! This is the word that takes our selfish thoughts and cravings and transforms them, day by day, into something that can begin to honour God.
It makes me realise that all to often I feel convicted about something and read up book after book and fill my ears with quality preaching, only to carry on as I was before. I'm reminded how selfish I am - I don't even want to think what it would be like to live differently, to live something better. A.W. Tozer said 'The true follower of Christ will not ask, "If I embrace this truth, what will it cost me?" Rather he will say, "This is truth. God help me to walk in it, let come what may!"'.
I want this to be my attitude, more and more: to realise when I'm being convicted, to respond to Jesus' truth of forgiveness with full repentance and a humble and simple prayer to let God's truth walk into me and steam-roller my pride beneath it. I want to respond, I want to change. And I thank God that he wants exactly the same, and is just waiting to enable me to - if I ask Him.
TheWeeScottie
---------------------------------------------------------------
weird is just your own personal brand of normal
'On the positive side of new technology I can get access to gifted teachers who can help me to love Jesus more, just as in previous generations I could have read the sermons of a Spurgeon or a Lloyd-Jones alongside commentaries and other Christian books. On the negative side, it's easy enough to be a sermon junkie who is ever listening and never responding to the preached word' (full version here)
I felt humbly rebuked & encouraged symultaneously. I was reminded how we are so very privileged to be able to read or listen to quality teaching: from the day before, to several centuries before, from Spurgeon and Lloyd-Jones to John Piper and Mark Driscoll. I've not read much Spurgeon or Lloyd-Jones, but I know that I've found a lot of what Piper and Driscoll preach very helpful and often well applied. But therein lies the temptation, to approach sermons like the Churchill dog: nodding and nodding, saying 'ooooh yes'. And to leave it at that. Shut down the computer, turn off the iPod and tune back into our lives - with no change. There's the rebuke - what's my attitude towards preaching? Sometimes I think I far too easily approach the message on Sunday morning as ticking a box in my week, when in fact this message, this gospel is the good news of Jesus Christ! This is the word that takes our selfish thoughts and cravings and transforms them, day by day, into something that can begin to honour God.
It makes me realise that all to often I feel convicted about something and read up book after book and fill my ears with quality preaching, only to carry on as I was before. I'm reminded how selfish I am - I don't even want to think what it would be like to live differently, to live something better. A.W. Tozer said 'The true follower of Christ will not ask, "If I embrace this truth, what will it cost me?" Rather he will say, "This is truth. God help me to walk in it, let come what may!"'.
I want this to be my attitude, more and more: to realise when I'm being convicted, to respond to Jesus' truth of forgiveness with full repentance and a humble and simple prayer to let God's truth walk into me and steam-roller my pride beneath it. I want to respond, I want to change. And I thank God that he wants exactly the same, and is just waiting to enable me to - if I ask Him.
TheWeeScottie
---------------------------------------------------------------
weird is just your own personal brand of normal
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
When a monster came to our school
Another silly poem, born out of the question that popped into my head while doing literacy with my year 1 kids and discussing crazy things that could happen at school. What if...
When a monster came to our school
It was a beautiful sunny spring morning,
and the flowers were shining with dew,
as I walked to my school after breakfast
none the wiser of what would ensue.
My best friends all waved as I got there,
As we dumped our school bags on the ground.
But just as we readied the first football’s kick
We saw everyone else had turned round.
And what a sight we found!
A boy, not much older than I am,
I think he was seven or eight
Was hopping along through the playground,
On one foot as he juggled 3 plates!
It was then that I suddenly noticed
Was that a tail that poked out from his shorts?
And there, could it be, oh my word, tee hee hee!
His knees were covered in warts!
And his hair flowed all golden and wavy,
From his head to his waist, tied in knots.
And lower than that, hidden under his shoes
He wore bright pink polkadoc socks!
None of us spoke in amazement,
This was just so incredibly cool.
We had a new pupil, and none had a scruple:
A monster had come to our school!
He followed us into our classroom
As the bell went at twenty to nine.
And proceeded to hang up his bag on a seat,
And sit down on the wall next to mine.
The teacher, Miss Jones, didn’t see him
As she called out our names one through all.
And nearly flew out of her chair when she heard
Our new monster reply from the wall!
As the morning progressed, then we noticed,
He never once reached for a pen.
Instead he picked up a window
And with a chair leg he wrote there and then!
At break time, he eyed up out football,
So we invited our new friend to play.
But he ran on his toes, and with his elbows
he played as if doing ballet!
During science he scared Mr Creacher,
When he ate up three test tubes like bread.
Without so much as a pause he devoured the gauze
And then sat on the ceiling out-spread.
At lunch time, this peculiar monsterish child
Sat to eat with us in the canteen,
And ate all the spoons from cutlery drawer
So with fingers we ate our ice cream!
In music he sang like a rubber,
And smiled as we all played kazoos,
Then before our very eyes, and to the teacher’s surprise,
Played his nose like a didgeridoo!
At home-time, we stood in suspense,
While our monster friend sat on the ceiling,
Wondering who was the mum on this unusual son.
Our nerves we were barely concealing!
Then out to the playground we streamed,
each of us keeping an eye
on our new special friend, ‘who’s his mum?’ ‘Is it Len’s’?
the questions flew fast ‘cross the sky.
He hopped on his hands to his mother,
And through the gates they departed the fray.
What a shock! Who’d have known, for there, walking alone
By his side was the head teacher. No way!
Any thoughts, please do let me know :) My poems can always be improved and any suggestions would be fab!
TheWeeScottie
---------------------------------------------------------------
weird is just your own personal brand of normal
When a monster came to our school
It was a beautiful sunny spring morning,
and the flowers were shining with dew,
as I walked to my school after breakfast
none the wiser of what would ensue.
My best friends all waved as I got there,
As we dumped our school bags on the ground.
But just as we readied the first football’s kick
We saw everyone else had turned round.
And what a sight we found!
A boy, not much older than I am,
I think he was seven or eight
Was hopping along through the playground,
On one foot as he juggled 3 plates!
It was then that I suddenly noticed
Was that a tail that poked out from his shorts?
And there, could it be, oh my word, tee hee hee!
His knees were covered in warts!
And his hair flowed all golden and wavy,
From his head to his waist, tied in knots.
And lower than that, hidden under his shoes
He wore bright pink polkadoc socks!
None of us spoke in amazement,
This was just so incredibly cool.
We had a new pupil, and none had a scruple:
A monster had come to our school!
He followed us into our classroom
As the bell went at twenty to nine.
And proceeded to hang up his bag on a seat,
And sit down on the wall next to mine.
The teacher, Miss Jones, didn’t see him
As she called out our names one through all.
And nearly flew out of her chair when she heard
Our new monster reply from the wall!
As the morning progressed, then we noticed,
He never once reached for a pen.
Instead he picked up a window
And with a chair leg he wrote there and then!
At break time, he eyed up out football,
So we invited our new friend to play.
But he ran on his toes, and with his elbows
he played as if doing ballet!
During science he scared Mr Creacher,
When he ate up three test tubes like bread.
Without so much as a pause he devoured the gauze
And then sat on the ceiling out-spread.
At lunch time, this peculiar monsterish child
Sat to eat with us in the canteen,
And ate all the spoons from cutlery drawer
So with fingers we ate our ice cream!
In music he sang like a rubber,
And smiled as we all played kazoos,
Then before our very eyes, and to the teacher’s surprise,
Played his nose like a didgeridoo!
At home-time, we stood in suspense,
While our monster friend sat on the ceiling,
Wondering who was the mum on this unusual son.
Our nerves we were barely concealing!
Then out to the playground we streamed,
each of us keeping an eye
on our new special friend, ‘who’s his mum?’ ‘Is it Len’s’?
the questions flew fast ‘cross the sky.
He hopped on his hands to his mother,
And through the gates they departed the fray.
What a shock! Who’d have known, for there, walking alone
By his side was the head teacher. No way!
Any thoughts, please do let me know :) My poems can always be improved and any suggestions would be fab!
TheWeeScottie
---------------------------------------------------------------
weird is just your own personal brand of normal
The terror of Armreach farm
1 month in hiding, mostly due to forgetting my blog exists at times and finding other exciting and interesting things to do :) school work for one! Below is one of a series of poems I've written recently: random poems about silly things, and some nonsense poems inspired by my Year 1 kids' work on nonsense poetry. I'll post 'When a monster came to our school' soon. I just need to iron out kinks first.
See if you can guess what the 'beast' is before the last verse!
The terror of Armreach farm
I looked out on the moonlit farmyard
The sky like a tranquil lagoon,
The wind moved the leaves in a nearby tree,
The moon would be rising soon.
And still as the gravestones, it waited,
Its heart dark as the deep night sky
Ready to spring and swift mayhem to bring
When the moon stood complete, and high.
And quiet asleep in their stalls now,
The animals slumbered in peace.
From the gold eiderdown of the small of ducks
To the shimmering sheeps’ winter fleece.
And still as the mountains, it waited,
Its heart like the indigo sky
Ready to spring and swift mayhem to bring
When the moon stood complete, and high.
I opened the door with shiver.
I guess where the beast might be.
In truth I knew not, of his new hiding spot,
So I waited, resting on one knee.
And still as a statue, it waited,
Its heart dark as blackcurrant pie,
Ready to spring and swift mayhem to bring
When the moon stood complete, and high.
As midnight tolled out ‘cross the farmyard,
An unearthly silence swift fell,
And the dull ghostly tones of the ancient clock’s groans
Rang out 12 times, it beast’s deathly knell.
And slow as the ages, it wakened,
Beating heart as adrenaline flowed,
And fast through its mind, with chaotic thoughts,
Its fancies began to unfold.
Quick as a whippet I looked up,
A shadow had stirred to the side.
In the stable I saw, darker than there before,
A deep shadow’s malevolent eyes.
And unmoving, the shadow stood staring,
Unaware of my foolhardy plan,
No mere man, it believed, could prevent him,
Once its frenzied assault began.
Like lightning the beast sprang towards me,
Its hooves like the thundering of drums.
I knew only one move would save me this night,
Or else, to its fury, succumb.
And fast as the planets it bolted,
For the ground to which I was firm bound.
My hand swiftly reached for my tattered coat pouch,
And flung its contents to the ground.
The screeching of hooves was tremendous,
As I breathed, barely making a noise.
Would the beast take the bait, precious seconds to wait,
And let me spring out of my poise?
And careful, it sniffed at the truffles,
Shrewd wariness clear in its eyes.
Did it trust in this treat, would it leap for my feet?
When it lowered its tree-like thighs.
My lunge was as quick as a cheetah,
as bold as a school-teacher’s stare,
the beast looked up but too late now,
its squealing shattering the air.
And frenzied, the beast struggled madly.
With its tail thrashing wide through the air,
Til the moon was consumed by a nearby cloud,
And still was the beast’s bristled hair.
The sweat glistened fresh on my forehead
As I stooped to retrieve the still form.
And shouldering the beast with a weary grunt,
I crossed the now quieted farm.
The main barn door creaked as it opened,
As if knowing what lay in my arms,
And the straw crackled loud, as if cheering
My saving the farmyard from harm.
Yet I gently replaced the wee bundle,
Knowing soon I would face it again.
For the moon was the curse of this small sleeping form:
A monster within the mundane.
And so it repeats, every cycle,
As the moon becomes fuller each day.
I silently wait in the dark twilit yard,
For the twelve bells to summon my prey.
The sound of the low shallow grunting
As that swill-laiden smell cuts the air,
And I whisper ‘goodbye’ to the red beady eyes
Of the Were-Piglet. ‘Were’, piggy, ‘were’.
Any thoughts greatly appreciated. It is far from perfect I know, but then, it is just a bit of fun!
TheWeeScottie
---------------------------------------------------------------
weird is just your own personal brand of normal
See if you can guess what the 'beast' is before the last verse!
The terror of Armreach farm
I looked out on the moonlit farmyard
The sky like a tranquil lagoon,
The wind moved the leaves in a nearby tree,
The moon would be rising soon.
And still as the gravestones, it waited,
Its heart dark as the deep night sky
Ready to spring and swift mayhem to bring
When the moon stood complete, and high.
And quiet asleep in their stalls now,
The animals slumbered in peace.
From the gold eiderdown of the small of ducks
To the shimmering sheeps’ winter fleece.
And still as the mountains, it waited,
Its heart like the indigo sky
Ready to spring and swift mayhem to bring
When the moon stood complete, and high.
I opened the door with shiver.
I guess where the beast might be.
In truth I knew not, of his new hiding spot,
So I waited, resting on one knee.
And still as a statue, it waited,
Its heart dark as blackcurrant pie,
Ready to spring and swift mayhem to bring
When the moon stood complete, and high.
As midnight tolled out ‘cross the farmyard,
An unearthly silence swift fell,
And the dull ghostly tones of the ancient clock’s groans
Rang out 12 times, it beast’s deathly knell.
And slow as the ages, it wakened,
Beating heart as adrenaline flowed,
And fast through its mind, with chaotic thoughts,
Its fancies began to unfold.
Quick as a whippet I looked up,
A shadow had stirred to the side.
In the stable I saw, darker than there before,
A deep shadow’s malevolent eyes.
And unmoving, the shadow stood staring,
Unaware of my foolhardy plan,
No mere man, it believed, could prevent him,
Once its frenzied assault began.
Like lightning the beast sprang towards me,
Its hooves like the thundering of drums.
I knew only one move would save me this night,
Or else, to its fury, succumb.
And fast as the planets it bolted,
For the ground to which I was firm bound.
My hand swiftly reached for my tattered coat pouch,
And flung its contents to the ground.
The screeching of hooves was tremendous,
As I breathed, barely making a noise.
Would the beast take the bait, precious seconds to wait,
And let me spring out of my poise?
And careful, it sniffed at the truffles,
Shrewd wariness clear in its eyes.
Did it trust in this treat, would it leap for my feet?
When it lowered its tree-like thighs.
My lunge was as quick as a cheetah,
as bold as a school-teacher’s stare,
the beast looked up but too late now,
its squealing shattering the air.
And frenzied, the beast struggled madly.
With its tail thrashing wide through the air,
Til the moon was consumed by a nearby cloud,
And still was the beast’s bristled hair.
The sweat glistened fresh on my forehead
As I stooped to retrieve the still form.
And shouldering the beast with a weary grunt,
I crossed the now quieted farm.
The main barn door creaked as it opened,
As if knowing what lay in my arms,
And the straw crackled loud, as if cheering
My saving the farmyard from harm.
Yet I gently replaced the wee bundle,
Knowing soon I would face it again.
For the moon was the curse of this small sleeping form:
A monster within the mundane.
And so it repeats, every cycle,
As the moon becomes fuller each day.
I silently wait in the dark twilit yard,
For the twelve bells to summon my prey.
The sound of the low shallow grunting
As that swill-laiden smell cuts the air,
And I whisper ‘goodbye’ to the red beady eyes
Of the Were-Piglet. ‘Were’, piggy, ‘were’.
Any thoughts greatly appreciated. It is far from perfect I know, but then, it is just a bit of fun!
TheWeeScottie
---------------------------------------------------------------
weird is just your own personal brand of normal
Friday, May 01, 2009
Dreams in stills
A fellow teaching friend from years gone by posted this on her facebook page & it's just a spot of sheer genious! If you like imaginative music videos or animation (or are up for something fun and creative, for that matter) then have a goosey at this:
I'm suddenly inspired to try making one. Bring on the ICT/Literacy/Drama project!
TheWeeScottie
---------------------------------------------------------------
weird is just your own personal brand of normal
I'm suddenly inspired to try making one. Bring on the ICT/Literacy/Drama project!
TheWeeScottie
---------------------------------------------------------------
weird is just your own personal brand of normal
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