E is for EGGS

So, how do you like yours? I guess my own personal favourite is boiled. It takes me back to a time when life was a lot less complicated with the only hurdle on the horizon being how to get through a day at grammar school as a junior, without lines, detention, the cane, a harsh or sarcastic word from a teacher or occasionally a kick on the backside from a less patient member of staff. It wasn't a case of being badly behaved, just of being at school in the wrong era when lack of understanding of a subject was on a par with indiscipline in terms of punishment. Not exactly a boost to one's self esteem. I reckon they'd all be in jail now! Anyway, the day always started the same way, with mum shouting from downstairs to tell me how many minutes until the bus passed by and me, still wrapped up under the sheets, pretending not to hear until the last possible moment in the hope that maybe the bus would come early and I would be left behind. Alas the family car meant my ruse was always pointless. By the time I had hastily dressed and arrived in the kitchen, breakfast was prepared and waiting and, like most spoiled sons, I sat beside the open Wellstood fire, while mum set my food on a chair in front of me. It was usually a boiled egg and toast but not in the conventional sense, in that the egg had been scooped out into a teacup, butter, salt and pepper had been added and the whole lot mixed up. We unimaginatively called it 'egg in a cup' and and to this day it still features on my breakfast menu from time to time.

Wife's personal favourite is scrambled, made with a little melted butter and milk and pepper and sometimes she adds little bits of raw bacon to the mixture, just to tantalise those few taste buds that no longer find eggs very interesting and the resultant offering can be a substantial meal at any time of the day. And while wife makes beautiful scrambled egg, I have always been a little suspicious of the vast yellow mountains of the stuff that is often offered in hotels at breakfast buffets. or some reason it just doesn't taste the same and huge amounts of scrambled egg tend not to be very visually aesthetic in the morning. Many years ago we were given as a present, a little piece of apparatus that was supposed to be an aid when poaching eggs. I think it's still somewhere in the kitchen, but it has always seemed much easier to just crack an egg into boiling water and let it poach without any outside help. In a sense poaching is really just boiling without the shell, except it's a quicker process, but makes an equally satisfying meal. Of course if you live in our province, then your Ulster Fry is not complete without a fried egg and despite its unhealthy composition when cooked, it does arouse the taste sensors more than any other form of egg. I guess it belongs in that large category of foods that we like to eat but shouldn't. Eating raw eggs was another matter entirely though dad regularly broke one over his potatoes at dinner time, during his earlier working days, as was the norm for most farming families. And if my memory serves me correctly, he and his mates would not have been averse to drinking buttermilk with a raw egg mixed in. So along with omelettes and their inclusion in a variety of cooked and baked dishes, eggs certainly have played a vital role in our household as they have indeed done in most families and to the humble hen, duck and banty, we are eternally grateful. Yet essentially the prime purpose of the egg is probably to generate new life.

Jesus once mentioned eggs in His earthly ministry when explaining how His Father has so much good to give each of us if we will only ask Him. Having prefaced with those famous words of The Lord's Prayer, in response to a disciple's request to be taught how to pray, He then instructed them by saying 'Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; he who seeks finds; and to him who knocks, the door will be opened.' Then by way of further explanation to indicate that God best knows our needs, he added, 'Which of you fathers, if your son asks for a fish, will give him a snake instead? Or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, though you are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!' And when that Holy Spirit in dwelling within, its fruit should be evident for all to see, just like the new life inside an egg is not contained within forever.

Here's a last thought. Even though they may look the same, the difference between a hard boiled and a raw egg is seen when you try to spin them, for only the hard boiled egg rotates easily. Our lives visibly show what we are in our hearts, regardless of the image we try to portray. I guess people can see the cracks!

E is for ELEPHANT

We had waited patiently with our guide for over half an hour. He had assured us that they were on their way to the water hole and just when we had about given up hope of them ever appearing, a large, grey mass began to poke its way through the rambling bush and cross our line of view, a safe distance away. Not that it was completely safe. The ranger had warned us to keep crouched behind the scrub and fallen trees since any undue movement might attract the mother's attention and she could be very proactive in defending her young who had simply come to quench their thirst and enjoy a playful family paddle. We watched them trundle down to the edge of the little pool, where they remained for half an hour, during which the only movement on our part were the shutters on a few cameras and then they turned and left in the direction from whence they had come without even caring to glance towards their human voyeurs, though I suspected they had known we were there all the time. It was an exhilarating experience, to view such majestic yet ponderous creature in something akin to their natural habitat, even if a barrier to complete freedom did lie somewhere beyond their comfort zone. We would see them twice more during our stay. once in the enveloping darkness of a late evening when the searchlight from our ranger's land rover lit up a male and his partner just off our track and definitely too close to our comfort zone. And then, the next evening, from the security of our camp, enjoying an open air dinner, the floodlight above the nearby water hole where we had first seen the family, showed that they had returned for an after dark soiree. In all my encounters and indeed those where metal bars that separated us, gave me increased confidence in my safety, I never forget that these are wild animals and their apparent ponderous and docile nature does not truly reflect the power they possess.

I'm told some elephants can live to be seventy years of age and they are famed for their memory, intelligence and wisdom while even the King of the Jungle is unlikely to prey on such a magnificent and huge beast. Scientists tell us that their trunk has so many muscles and nerves that it is sensitive enough to lift one blade of grass but strong enough to rip up a tree. It also allows them to draw up three or four gallons of water at a time and spray it into their mouth to quench a thirst or to spray it over their bodies for washing but they often follow this with a further spraying of mud which then acts as a protective sunscreen. And it doesn't stop there, for the intertwining of trunks is a greeting in much the same way as we would shake hands, while a raised trunk is a sign of warning to intruders or potential enemies. And because it is also essentially their nose, elephants rely on their trunk for their very highly developed sense of smell that allows them to locate food and other living things, either friend or foe, by a simple waving of the appendage in the air. Their tusks are equally important, helping them to dig for water, debark trees, move obstacles in their path and to mark their territory. They are also available as a weapon if they choose to use them in this way. Unfortunately, for this giant animal, the tusks are a much sought after material, being used for piano and organ keys, making figurines and different sculptures and also especially in constructing the hanko, a Japanese seal for documents. How sad that the population of elephants across the world has dwindled because to get the ivory, the animal must die. Indeed one of its greatest strengths becomes its weakness.

Maybe therein lies a lesson for us all, for where we seem to feel strongest can turn out to be where we are most vulnerable. Satan attacks us where he knows he can do the most harm, be it in our marriages, our relationships with others, our family life, our job, but of course, most importantly for him, in our Christian walk. Poachers don't attack tuskless elephants and satan will likewise only attack us where he can take something valuable away from us. So it's up to us to protect our lives for the places where he might find us weak, where temptation is most likely to turn our heads and cause us to fall. My old Sunday school teacher always said 'temptation doesn't do the damage, but giving in to it does.' Never think that he is leaving you alone, for even Judas, close as he was to Jesus succumbed, as John writes 'As soon as Judas took the bread, Satan entered into him.' The good news of course is that he is already defeated at Calvary and if we truly depend on Jesus for our strength every day, He can keep the devil from stealing our faith.

Today, dig deep in the faith for that living water, claim the protection of your Father, ask Him to remove the obstacles in your path that might stop you, mark your territory clearly for Jesus and above all, get ready for the battle.

Y is for YUCCA

Mum was a great gardener. If it had roots, stem and leaves, she could make it grow and often plants would thrive, having begun life as a little cutting she had obtained from a friend or neighbour. In her later years, when she and and dad would go on holiday to Scotland or the north of our province, she would seldom return home without some 'slips' of plants that she had collected on her travels and before long they would be growing healthily in a corner of her garden. Indeed some of the fir trees and broom plants that still decorate the family garden, came all the way from the moors in Ayrshire. As long as I can remember, she spent her 'free' time in the garden tending to her 'family' and over the years new little plots of ground began to spring up around home, in the unlikeliest of locations, with each one containing a selection of newly acquired plants, that still survive to this day. And those that she couldn't find room for in her multitude of flower beds, remained in an ever increasing congregation of flower pots of various sizes and shapes, close to the back door of our house.

But amongst all the plants that she cultivated in her botanical paradise, I think the ones she admired most were the Yucca plants. It had all started with one large Yucca in the main garden. I didn't particularly like it as I inevitably got 'spiked' by one of its pointed, sharp leaves every time i tried to manoeuvre the lawnmower around its base. It didn't seem that interesting a plant either, just a mass of these dangerous, hard and waxy leaves in a sort of rosette and a fairly think, woody stem. But then one year it produced a massive flower, well not exactly one flower, but a whole stalk of white flowers, about a foot high and then, despite mum's concerns to the contrary, it seemed to flower every year with as much gusto as the previous one. Such was her confidence in the plants hardiness and her own green fingers that soon, several cuttings had been removed and planted elsewhere in the garden and within a few short years had become established enough to produce their own flowering stalks. It was a great sight and over the years all the Yuccas continued to flourish and now their stems are more akin to trunks of small trees. When we began to set out our own garden, mum was soon on hand with a few Yucca cuttings that she carefully placed at several points and for quite a few years now , we have been able to enjoy the delights of the white flowering stalks on our own doorstep, though the plants themselves still see the need to attack me when I mow the lawn in their proximity.

Yes how encouraging it is to know that in the hands of a real gardener, these plants that are more common at home in a different climate, can grow with great vigour, given the proper care. This past week I have been drawn towards John 15 where Jesus states 'I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.' I saw at first hand the way mum tended her beloved plants, weeding and cutting where necessary in order to not only maintain their health but indeed to produce even greater growth. And I think of my heavenly Father, who constantly cares for me in the same way, cutting away the things that might hinder my spiritual growth and through His help I try to bear fruit and blossom for Him. In Galatians 5, Paul lists for us all those qualities that God requires us to exhibit as we become more like His Son, when he writes 'But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.' These are the signs that our roots are growing deeper in Him, that our hearts are in tune with His guiding and our lives are being slowly pruned towards that ultimate perfection in Eternity. Have faith in the Gardener.

Y is for YESTERDAY

They say nostalgia isn't what it used to be. I prefer to think that hindsight is a wonderful thing. However I do think we are more interested in the past than we think and for some it probably borders on obsessiveness. On our local television channel, another series of UTV Rewind has just started that gives us glimpses into earlier years and I think I'm more fascinated by the clothes and hairstyles of presenters in their bygone days than the events they are reporting. Many of our other television channels fill their schedules with repeats and indeed some stations are dedicated to old programmes. One of my favourites is the ESPN sports channel that allows sports fanatics to watch old football and rugby matches as well as snippets of other sports and their stars. And you know so many of the games are such a distant memory that it's almost like watching them for the first time, except for the retro skips and hairstyles.

But it doesn't end there. Everyday, for the last fifteen years in school, I have started the morning with my class by sharing some snippets from a book called 'On This Day'. Each page is dedicated to one day of the year and summarises the main world events that have happened on that particular date in history. Some of the things we talk about are recent enough for me to remember but many are too long in the past, while for the children, everything is new. My only problem is that I now need to update the book because so many important events have happened since it was first published and there are enough recent additions that some of the pupils would remember and of course, add to their interest.

Of course as we get older, there are more yesterdays to recall, though not all with affection and I guess there are many yesterdays that we'd prefer hadn't happened or would like to rewrite while many others bring back a great sense of satisfaction and pleasure. Either way they are all part of our personal history, filling the huge dairy that we call life. And there are no days that something isn't recorded. But so often our view of the present is linked to the past and we cling to our yesterdays with a mixture of regret and fondness, suggesting that they were so much better than today. Nowhere more evident is this than in the sporting world where I listen to a whole posse of former sports stars ridiculing the game they once graced and minimising the success of their present day equivalents. It often starts with the phrase, 'in my day' and you know immediately that their comparison of old and new is viewed through very coloured glass. The truth is that while each of our own eras has had much to offer, each also has had its disadvantages and maybe we need to take a little from each generation to see the bigger and better picture. In our province, yesterday is always linked with the sectarian trouble that occupied many of our days and I can remember many yesterdays when I knew a victim by name or personally. As we remember those who lost their lives in one such horrific example, exactly ten years ago, we do so by also thinking about every other family whose today is always filled with the memories of a yesterday they wish had never happened.

The writer of Hebrews reminds us that 'Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.' But He is not interested in our yesterdays and what we did in them and because He doesn't change with time, the gift of salvation He offers is always available. If we accept His gift, that forgiveness He gives includes wiping away all the wrongs of yesterday, all the sins of the past. Isaiah writes 'Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past' and that is exactly what we can do because God forgives and forgets. He takes away our past and buries it forever. Your yesterday can remain there to be remembered no more.

Y is for YOUNG

I've just watched the Women's Individual All Around Final gymnastics competition at the Beijing Olympics and its a bit disconcerting. When you add together the ages of the gold, silver and bronze winners, I'm still older than the combined total. If anything makes you realise that sport is a young person's game, it has to be the Olympics, where this year the youngest competitor is a twelve year old swimmer, two years younger than Great Britain's young diver. Still if it's any consolation, and it's not really, there is a Japanese equestrian competitor who is sixty four and he did compete at the Olympics before, albeit forty four years ago in his home country. I know there are sports where age is less of a barrier to success, such as bowls, shooting, archery, ideally those where competitiveness depends more on skill and experience than on stamina, speed and strength and of course most athletes know when it is time to give way to youth. However the great thing is that the young in this year's games are producing even greater levels of achievement than their predecessors, such is the level of fitness and dedication that they now possess and also the scientific and dietary knowledge available to them and their myriad of coaches and advisors. I listened with interest to one of our local commentators, a former Olympic competitor in the swimming pool, who, as a young boy had watched the great David Wilkie win gold at the 1976 Montreal Olympics and vowed that some day he would swim as fast as the Olympic champion. And of course with great dedication, he did equal Wilkie's time some eight years later. The only trouble was by that stage, Wilkie's world record winning time was two seconds too slow and now such a time wouldn't even have secured a place in either semi final!

But it's not just in sport where the young can teach us a thing or two. I've just been reading youngest son's blog over the past few weeks while he is on his eXtreme walk in Ecuador with OMS International and in his writings, his depth of faith is so evident and his understanding of the need to lean on God during his year away is something that I think few of my generation appreciated when we were his age. And it's not just him. I see it all around in many of our young people, that desire to find a deeper personal relationship with God and to be discerning in finding the right road to greater peace and also to a greater commitment to their Maker. For many, it now involves a summer, not lying on the beach, but working with kids in camps, often travelling to foreign countries and living way outside their comfort zone. For others it is a desire to take up roles of responsibility in their churches, to help in worship, to sing, to lead, to make tea, but whatever roles they occupy, to do them with complete commitment. A few will choose to study at a Bible College, to learn more about their faith and maybe as a prerequisite to a vocation either at home or abroad but whatever they choose, it is so refreshing to see them wear their faith on their sleeve. Not for them any hidden Christianity, not for them any embarrassment at awkward questions from friends, not for them Jesus being second best.

I thought about a lot of these young kids today as they waited anxiously for their A level grades that would decide their immediate future and I thought of all those whom I know and what the next year might bring for them. Yes there will be those for whom God will become a distant thought, who may leave behind the comfort zones of their church or youth group and there may be some who will never venture along that path again. And I'm reminded of the writer of Ecclesiastes who said 'Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say, "I find no pleasure in them". ' And I think of how if we have truly given our lives to God in complete repentance and faith, that he will never let us go and will never stop loving us, even when we choose a different path for a while. He is like the shepherd searching for His lost sheep, because the sheep already belongs to Him and He is just not prepared to lose it. Isn't that great to know, especially for you parents out there, when you have to let your child make their own way in life, that the Creator they knew personally in the days of their youth, hasn't left them and they still live in His grace.

I listened to our Minister for Education today, who has less qualifications than most of the children around her but who could probably beat them at tennis or on quizzes about Colombia and she did manage to say something I agreed with for once when she pointed out that even if some young people don't get the grades they want, there is more than one pathway to their chosen career. The same is not true however concerning the way to God for His Son makes it quite clear when he says in John 14, 'I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.' And the good news is that age is never a barrier.

Q is for QUIET

If you happened to walk into our dining hall on any day of the week, you would hear it before you would see it. It's not surprising when you have nearly one hundred and fifty children all in the one room, after three hours of studying Maths and English in some form, that they might just want to let off a bit of steam. Unfortunately they haven't quite grasped the concept that if everyone tries to talk at the same time, then it's hard to decipher anything that is said. They think the only solution is to try and talk more loudly than their neighbour who obviously has the same brainwave at the same time, so the noise level creeps up rather quickly, until a bang of the cook's big spoon returns the decibel reading to normality. But it's never totally quiet and I don't think you could expect it to be. Strangely though, I can stand in the hall and not hear the noise at all some days because in truth, it's not about the noise, but about where your mind is. My own recollections of dinner time in the dining hall around the start of my teenage years was one of absolute silence, save for the noise of metal on crockery. It was in general keeping with the rigid discipline rules of the school whose policy on educating children was, to quote a famous Irish author, the carrot and stick method, but without the carrot.

I was drawn to the whole subject of quietness today by several things. First, we spent some of the daylight working hours in school, rearranging books and furniture that had been move to allow for a repaint. The place was so quiet all day with the children not due back for several weeks. It made me almost think how great being a teacher could be of there were no pupils, but it's their noisy exuberance and enthusiasm that makes the job worthwhile sometimes.

Then when I logged on to youngest son's blog tonight that he is writing during his year in Ecuador, working with a church, I was intrigued how he described his present life and his mind as 'noisy' because of the busy nature of his work, the people he is meeting , the different language and culture and of course all the thoughts, plans, ideas and feelings that are constantly swimming about in his head. And you know I understood exactly what he was talking about, because what he really needed was some quality time to himself, not just for the sake of it , but to be able to mediate on God and to feel His peace infuse his life. It reminded me of Job who said 'I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil.' It took me back to many times I can remember when I would seek a 'place of peace' just to be alone with my thoughts and with God. Sometimes it was just a walk up the lane or by the riverbank, maybe a drive in the car, sitting in the dark in the lounge, mowing the lawn and sometimes, it was in the middle of a crowd where I was just anonymous and could walk with my own thoughts. I guess that's where I am in the dining hall occasionally. Then tonight, I was reading the local paper and happened to notice a remark from our only lady Prime Minster to date, who said 'We have a great many people on our national stage who are great communicators but they have nothing whatever to communicate.' I think what she really meant was 'maybe they should keep quiet.' Or maybe it's another way of phrasing that old proverb, 'empty vessels make the most sound.'

Ah, quietness. It plays such an important part in our spiritual lives too. The write of Lamentations says 'it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.' And Zephaniah records 'The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing.' Even when Jesus cast demons out of people, His first words were to command the demon to 'be quiet.' And maybe the writer of Margaret Thatcher was not one hundred miles away from the writer of Ecclesiastes who wrote 'The quiet words of the wise are more to be heeded than the shouts of a ruler of fools.' We used to sing a hymn many years ago, the first line of which was 'there is a place of quiet rest, near to the heart of God.' The Psalmist reminds me that 'He leads me beside quiet waters.' So maybe today we need to start our desire to grow deeper with God by being a little quieter. After all, if we're not, we mightn't hear that gentle whisper.

Q is for QUEEN

Our present queen, Elizabeth, is a member of a very exclusive club. At the moment along with her good self, I can only find two other queens, Margrethe II of Denmark and Beatrix of the Netherlands who are the ruling female monarchs in the world. Yes there are plenty of queens around but most of them sit beside their husband king in a sort of supportive role, you know, ironing his robes, polishing his crown, making the royal breakfast, getting the royal groceries, rearing the royal children, having the royal pipe and slippers ready every evening. Actually, I'm sure they don't do anything of those things, especially where a servant could be hired instead. But can't you imagine how dull the conversations might be. 'What did you do today dear?' 'You should know, you were sitting beside me all day!'

When we cover the family tree of the British Royals, I'm always intrigued by the fact that ER would probably never have been on the throne except for the love of her uncle Edward for Mrs Simpson. In his abdication, her whole future changed and but for that interjection we might have been talking of Charles, Anne, Andrew and Edward in the same way as we consider their distant cousins and minor royals. Elizabeth has been Queen for all of my life, indeed for the lives of the majority of people on these islands and in the past decade or so, she has twice been in our local city though the closest I got to her was on a television screen. Mind you, one little girl form our school waited for hours to see her and present to her some flowers and eventually she was rewarded when Her Majesty stopped, accepted her gift and spoke with her for a few moments. That event is. I'm sure recorded in a scrapbook for ever. Though I never knew her, from all the information we study in school, Queen Victoria seemed somewhat less outgoing and shunned public appearances when possible. I'm sure the early death of her husband, Prince Albert, had a profound effect on her and all accounts record that she wore black for the rest of her life until she died after nearly sixty four years on the throne.

In the Bible, two queens stand out in my memory. Jezebel, the wife of Ahab and daughter of a foreign king, who turned her husband away from the God of the Israelites and took particular offence at Elijah the prophet and his successor, Elisha, when they confronted her of her evil. To call her manipulative would be an understatement and yet she was not impressed when Elijah prophesied that she would be eaten by dogs at the end a finale that eventually came to pass.

Esther, on the other hand, was a woman of deep faith and courageous in her position as wife to King Xerxes, during the captive years of the Israelites. And no doubt because of her faith in the God of her forefathers, she had a strong moral character and a desire, despite the risks, to seek justice for her captive people. So important is she that her story is recorded in the book that bears her name. She is remembered as the Saviour of her people through her actions but in reality it was her reliance on God and her call to all the Jewish people to follow her example that was the catalyst for God's miraculous intervention and their ultimate deliverance.

And so it still is today. God is waiting to supernaturally and miraculously intervene in our lives, and yet too often we choose not to rely on Him and His all encompassing greatness by trying to keep our problems 'in house' and solve them by our own human efforts. That's why the prophet Isaiah writes in chapter 50, 'Who among you fears the LORD and obeys the word of his servant? Let him who walks in the dark, who has no light, trust in the name of the LORD and rely on his God' and why John, in his epistle, chapter 4 can say with confidence 'And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.'

Each of these queens is remembered in a different way because of the life they lived during their few years on earth. How will you be remembered. And how will God remember you?