Lamentations 2025

February 7, 2025 / nomadicpages / Leave a comment

With wars, violence, plane crashes, death and poverty, the news reports are a round of calamity and disaster, particularly among the innocent. Then there’s news of friends and family; those struggling with illness, heartache and tragedy. The inventory of suffering and grief feels constant. Is our world collapsing under the weight of pain? Is God really in control?

Stubbornly, in a fit of temper and frustration, I tell God my thoughts. ‘This darkness feels absolute. You promised to be a light in the darkness and just now, I don’t see any light.’ The age-old question is on my lips, ‘Why do You allow such suffering?’ Naturally, He doesn’t answer because He desires that I trust Him. Yet, I will not release Him, and my tirade continues.

Graciously, He listens, fully aware of how I speak when suffering breaks me. Is my desire to see our world set free from suffering and death? Absolutely! But at this moment, my expectations are unrealistic and flawed. The nature of this present world is that it has been corrupted by sin and so eventually everything, even that which is beautiful and perfect, falls apart.

This is a solemn thought and one that could threaten to kill hope. Yet, beyond the appearance of our present reality, God is with us in the darkest moments. How many people, whether or not they believe in God, find themselves crying out to Him when faced with despair? Quite a lot, I imagine. For I have noticed that, while people might not want to hear about God, they will rarely turn away someone who offers to pray for them.

Sorrow can take us to God and if, like me, you complain, at least the complaints are prayed to Him. I am not afraid of being honest with Him because I believe He welcomes it. Plus He has a way of interrupting my onslaughts, of stripping away the words and pretence to present me with the question, ‘Do you really love me for who I am?’

The deepening of my love for God is a slow, growing relationship. Through sorrow, He draws me to Himself, showing me His grieving heart. He mourns suffering and death for He desires that all might come to know Him. Understanding a little more not only strengthens my love, but it works a new steadiness and perseverance in me which reflects His heart more closely.

Still, too many unanswered questions remain. He promises to work all things together for good to those who love Him. Yet His idea of good and mine seem poles apart. When I cannot see His perspective, I choose to return to the immutable truth: God loves us now and He always will. Nothing can shake that. Even when everything, to my eyes at least, seems wrong.

Honey in the Rock . . .

January 8, 2025 / nomadicpages / 3 Comments

On the large cinema screen the flowing folds of sculpted sand seemed to reach right into the auditorium. We watched as a family fled their persecutors and found themselves in the middle of the Gobi Desert. ‘Gobi’, in Mongolian means ‘waterless place’, and the desert is mostly waterless. It is a huge swath of land, magnificent, full of awe and splendour, but also daunting and feral, as the fleeing family found.

With long cold winters, relentless hot summers, and springs and autumns furious with sandblasting cyclones, the Gobi is an unpredictable landscape. Yet, despite its nature, the saturated silence is not devoid of life. Hardy nomads, who know the character of the land, are at home in the wilderness. Gazelles, camels and Gobi bears flourish. There are lush valleys, shrubs and lakes. At night, the vaulted sky explodes with a thousand galaxies.

It is a fascinating place, austere and beautiful, barren and fertile, not too dissimilar to the seasons of our lives. We all experience times of awe and wonder as well as days of heartache and desolation.

The children of Israel experienced forty years in the desert. There, God provided them with a rock of refuge. In the Gobi, spines of cliff and rock break up the sandy desert, providing shelter from sandstorms and the lethal summer heat. On a hot day the sand burns. By night the heat has dissipated, leaving the cliffs as the only warm place of refuge. The rigours of the desert push us beyond comfort to expose our vulnerabilities: frailties in our body, shortfalls in our characters and the delicacy of our faith, all of which brings us to the realisation that we cannot sustain ourselves.

The rock that God provided for the Israelites in the wilderness was Himself; a refuge, a place of safety and help. In times of despair, we too must turn to that same rock for He is the only one who can truly protect us. The Israelites’ rock was not only a shield, but it also gave them water. The sandstone of the Gobi’s rocks is often pocked with tafone, which provide a tiny cup in which to catch moisture.

Against the extremes of the desert, water keeps us alive. But God gives us more than water. He feeds us with sustenance from the rock. He renews our strength and energy, not simply to sustain us but that we might change, that He might work something beautiful in our hearts and fill us with His goodness.

In the onslaught of the storm, bewildered and disorientated, it is great comfort to know that the rock we cling to will not crumble. That our God is a place of shelter and refuge, a door of hope and a way to experience sweetness as He works beauty in our lives. What a blessing to know that Jesus too is altogether familiar with the desert.

Together . . .

November 30, 2024 / nomadicpages / Leave a comment

It’s interesting the things in Britain which, on the surface, appear different to Asian life. Sentences like ‘I choose who I want to be’, or ‘I will make my own future and choices’, seem commonplace sentiments amongst many in the west. While I understand the thinking, I am not sure I agree with the actuality of such words.

Perhaps it’s because I’ve seen another culture and context where people intuitively know that the decisions others make influence and shape who they become. Admittedly, some Mongolians are starting to follow western thinking. Some think nomads are individualistic, but the reality is that nomads’ beliefs and worldview are moulded by their relationships with family, community and tradition.

The west might prize individuality and the desire to direct our own lives, yet I think the truth here is the same as in Mongolia. Our lives are shaped by our relationships and the community we live in, essentially because God created us to be in community and to grow in fellowship with one another.

Of course, we frequently become disappointed in and disillusioned by others, or our friendships are simply marred by our own expectations. As I ask what prevents us from dwelling content in friendship and fellowship with one another, I find the question turns first to me and my own heart. What is it that prevents me from dwelling content in this new and different community? Quietly waiting, a string of thoughts flow into my mind. Feeling snubbed and offended, I’ve wanted to manage when I cannot, and control what is beyond my ability to control.

Thankfully God, gracious and kind, reminds me not to focus on myself. Rather, He encourages me to lose my independence and let my eye rest on the needs of another. Faltering in my steps, I try to appreciate the one in front of me and, gently, a shift occurs in my heart as a connection with another is formed. In laying down and letting go of my desire to control my own life, I receive grace. Thankfulness rises within me, followed by a joy that remains. I understand I have an obligation, without restraint, to allow love for God and for another to reign in my heart. It is one step forward, but it feels like I’ve experienced a small, life-changing resurrection.

God has put me right with Him and right with those around me. From that flows a unity and oneness. My desire to hold onto my identity brought loneliness and isolation, but in surrendering myself to God, I see the enormity of His love and my value to Him. I also become aware that He is the One taking care of the circumstances of my life.

The temptation to imagine that I can control my life still lurks, but each day I am learning to entrust myself into His hands. As I do, He gives more grace; grace that anchors me more securely into God. I am part of His church, a community that is filled with different people, who seek to respect and honour each other. We are united in Christ, interdependent, shaped by God and one another. Together, we are more wholly becoming the people God created us to be.

I want to follow Jesus. . .

October 31, 2024 / nomadicpages / 1 Comment

‘I want to follow Jesus.’ It’s a statement I make periodically when I’m chatting with Christians or non-Christians. Often people make no response to my statement, bar the rise of an eyebrow. I imagine they think, “Isn’t that obvious? She’s a Christian, why wouldn’t she want to follow Jesus?”

Of course that is true, but I also know both my own heart a little and the subtle whisperings that enter my mind when life gets tough. In those moments, the urge to walk away, and not have to face the pain of change and heartache, is strong.

Yet God never gives grants me permission to walk away. Even when I feel battered, alone and like He’s become distant, still He holds me where I am. Caught up with my own struggles and worries, I am prone to begin a search to recapture peace, a sense of normality and my equilibrium, but it does not come.

Outwardly, I’d do all the right things, read my Bible, pray and go to church, while inside the feelings of disconnect that cause me to question God’s presence, continue. But He is gracious and kind. While my mind goes around in circles, seemingly revisiting the same lessons repeatedly, God bears with me, understanding all the loss and bereavement I’ve experienced.

Stilling my mind to stop the flow of words and thoughts takes time and, even then, I battle the temptation not to fill the quietness with words or actions. He knows me so well. He comes, doing what I cannot do, He brings my mind to a place of rest. Slowly the mist begins to clear, and my thoughts become less chaotic.

All the time, I realise my heart has been calling out to Him. I long for Him, He is my desire. All the time, He has been and is reaching out and seeking to be known. Lifting my burdens, He calms my heart enough to focus on Him fully. Yes, God knows me well, and there is comfort and confidence in this truth.

I mouth a simple prayer of thanksgiving. I am in His presence. It is unexpected, He has met me in my world, revealed Himself in my surroundings and spoken to me in the deepest place of my heart. I don’t just want to be attentive in this moment, but through prayer, discern the presence of God and His leading in my life each day. I surrender to His love not with a sense of obligation but with devotion that desires to love Him more and choose His will over mine. ‘Help me Lord,’ I cry, because, despite my weaknesses, I truly want to follow Jesus.

Onward Steps. . .

October 1, 2024 / nomadicpages / Leave a comment

When God spoke to Abraham instructing him to leave his home and go to a place that God would later show him, Abraham went. It’s a story I’ve read a thousand times, yet still I marvel at Abraham’s faith and trust in God. So often when God asks me to take a step of faith, I do it but then find myself hankering for more detail, which God rarely, if ever, gives. Instead, His call is for us to walk by faith with His son.

Walking a new, uncharted path is naturally unfamiliar and uncomfortable. There are still moments when God seems absent, and I wonder what He is doing. At such times, I cry to Him for help, reminding myself that I need to seek to discern His presence in places where I do not expect Him to be. Maybe this is basic, but for me it is an ongoing deepening of truth learned. Slowly my befuddled thoughts and fears clear, as I realise that I don’t always understand the discipline of keeping my eyes on God. Thankfully, He brings me to my senses, enabling me to trust Him as He continues shaping my life.

My prayer always brings the simplest, most fundamental truth to my heart: I am loved by God. I am anchored in Him. Striving ceases and I relax, allowing His Spirit to enable me to become attentive to His presence.

Graciously, God illuminates the ways in which I have been living outside His will. Unconsciously, definition of who I am came to depend on what I did and the possessions I had. Now that they are gone, I’ve felt lost. I’ve told God, but He has been silent to my petitions. I implored Him; surely, I was best placed to determine what would lead to my happiness. But I was wrong!

Then His love begins to overshadow my imperfections and imperfect love for Him. Frustrations and impatience abate. My gaze is no longer fastened on myself, my shortcomings or my surroundings.

God reminds me that my identity or contentment is not based on what I have or don’t have, where I live or don’t, or even what others think of me. Who I am and what I do is only truly fulfilled in a growing relationship with Him. God’s salvation is at work in me, making whole what is broken. He is redeeming and reforming my heart and mind, allowing me to be more the person He designed me to be. How important it is to know Him, but also to know myself, my weaknesses, vulnerabilities and my utter need of Him.

This journey is slow. I get impatient! Why aren’t things clear? And God in his infinite wisdom poses questions, ‘Do you trust me? Will you walk with me?’ He has had to ask me the same questions many times. Despite my stumbling, I know there is only one answer: Yes! Nothing else matters, true fulfilment is found in Him alone. He seeks me, my heart is open, I desire to know Him more deeply. This desire is the result of His Spirit at work in me. I begin afresh to see His heart for others, and I answer, ‘Lord, give me grace to follow.’

Slowly. . .

August 13, 2024August 13, 2024 / nomadicpages / 2 Comments

I am a slow learner. It takes time for me to grow in understanding God, His will and His ways, although my slowness doesn’t stop me wrestling to try to understand Him. Nor does it diminish my desire to push Him to make everything plain and clear. But God does not comply. He leaves me with ambiguities, as I struggle with sadness and loss. Oh, that He would make things clear and write our next steps in the sky. But He refrains, and so much still appears unknown.

Mark and I talk. There is plenty of chatter, plenty of noise. We talk about God, about His word. We witness and seek to live for Him, but answers to the tangled questions that fill my mind are few and far between. The moment I think I have an answer clear, God comes, scattering my so-called organised thoughts like a gust of wind scattering neatly ordered papers.

God’s way is different to mine. He moves at a different pace to me. Unhurried, He takes His time to form His character in my heart and life. He knows that I do not fully understand Him, yet He has no frustrations with me. Rather He speaks, placing His word in my heart, allowing it to settle then sometimes, at His appointed moment, He brings clarity and understanding to what was hidden to me.

He understands that it takes time to grow up in Him, to learn to live a life characterised by His love, a life that desires to obey Him alone. He also knows that it is away from the noisiness of life and my own confused thoughts that I am more likely to receive Him when He comes. In those moments, when I respond to Him in spontaneous worship, then He can reveal more of His character and truth.

My ‘who?’, ‘where?’, ‘when?’ questions seldom get answered immediately, probably because I have yet to discover that I am not ready for His answer. God is gracious, allowing me to prattle on uninterrupted until, out of breath, I realise He wants me to stop and listen to Him. Even then there are no answers, but my questions take me forward. In asking Him to show me the way, I realise that He is revealing that He is The Way.

I draw closer to God. Our circumstances are unchanged but something in me has changed. I seek to rest in His presence, comfortable not to recognise or understand the next steps because God has given me what I did not, or could not, articulate. He understands my heart far more than I do. He knows what I need above all else. In learning to walk out of my way into His, I experience a growing intimacy with Him more precious than the answer to all my questions.

Your Kingdom come. . .Your Will be done. . .

July 8, 2024 / nomadicpages / 2 Comments

Your kingdom come…. It’s a line I’ve prayed a thousand times but it’s a line I’ve got stuck on recently. Finding my bearings again, getting a handle on living in a new place, I ask, ‘What does it mean to see God’s kingdom come and His will be done on earth?’ The words of the Lord’s prayer are simple, the sentences short, yet they are radical and incendiary.

Every kingdom has a ruler, a sovereign, God’s kingdom is no different. Although the world’s kingdoms are more visible and prominent, ruled by those who seemingly display, presence, power and influence. To the naked eye, God’s kingdom can appear obscure and opaque, hard to define and even harder to grasp. Sometimes I wish people could see His kingdom, that it was obvious and clear, that they could plainly see when good triumphs and wicked powers are defeated.

But God rarely parades His victories in that way. Here I must be vigilant, for in longing for a demonstration of His power, danger loiters. I can try and manipulate God or falsely manifest His kingdom. Thankfully, God will neither be coerced or manipulated by anyone. Neither will He impose His kingdom on another. He is no despotic sovereign, but a king whose throne was established before the beginning of everything. He reigns with His Son Jesus in a unity which is other, beautiful in a perfection that cannot be broken or separated.

‘Your kingdom come…’ The phrase articulates a willingness to offer myself as a participant in seeing Him bring His kingdom to the earth; a willingness, I believe, planted in us by God who invites each of us to work alongside Him. We listen, watch and enter in, allowing Him to form our identity and imaginations in this world where Jesus demonstrates another kingdom ruled by His father’s love and salvation.

This kingdom is not of this world but one sent into the world; one which quietly subverts world kingdoms. Armed with citizens who steep themselves in His stories and pray according to His word, we grow. Devotion to God deepens, clarity sharpens our intent and life’s purpose as we play our small part in living out His kingdom rule. The part we play together, as the body of Christ, forms a base of God’s love through which He brings salvation to the world. Changing shame and guilt for newness of life, hopelessness for faith and trust in One whose kingdom creates a new reality under His care.

May we let God be God…. May His kingdom come, and His will be done.

The Glory is His. . .

June 8, 2024 / nomadicpages / Leave a comment

Honeybees waggle while birds’ lyrical squawks and chirps mingle across the summer airwaves. Rabbits pop out of their holes as buds swell and burst with flower, leaf and fruit. Layer upon layer, one intricacy after another of this landscape unfolds. I am overwhelmed by this world that brims with extravagant abundance. Meticulously created by God, who seems to have set no limits to the wonder and originality of this living world, I marvel at His magnitude.

Although it’s just a glimpse, like the lifting of the corner of a veil, it is a declaration of earth’s wonders, the miracles of the heavens, a luminous acclamation of God’s glory. Elephant and mouse, milky way and the deep blue sea, are all a public, visible ovation to the presence of God. He has no rivals; no man can attain to His splendour.

Yet sometimes, my head full of life and its woes, observes nature’s beauty without seeing God’s greatness. Not because He isn’t there; He is, but, distracted, I seize on nature as a way to renew and restore my heart’s equilibrium rather than allow it to refocus my attention on Him. It is a subtle shift, a sidestep where I’m in danger of letting something good and wholesome come before Him.

In His grace, God stirs and challenges me, reminding me of the many things which can claim my attention, appreciation and care. Of course, it is right and wise to admire and treasure our world, but there must be balance. I must not let the world itself shape me or conform my mind to its image. Only one, the Creator of heaven and earth, can truly shape us aright.

How essential that I retain a posture that centres my heart and mind on Him and not my perceived needs. With Him as my focus, He can draw me closer until, flooded with His mercy, I realise that I am always and entirely reliant on Jesus. Only He can truly renew and restore me. Only He can meet the real needs of my heart.

The realities of needs truly met shifts my thinking away from self and protects me against idol attachment. Dwelling in the depths of my being, God’s Spirit reshapes and continues to reframe the way I live.

Salvation belongs to the Lord. He is amongst us, leading us heavenward, enabling us to grow. Every day His presence is manifest on the earth and in our small place on this planet, we have a measure of influence. We cannot add to His divine glory or increase the inherent glory of His being, but in our daily witness we can live and speak what we have experienced, what we have seen and tasted.

The stars illuminate the darkness. River and oceans show forth His power and every creature that covers this earth declares the omnipotence of the Creator. And we too, small and insignificant as we are, can also spread something of His glory and greatness as we let His Word have dominion in our lives.

Perseverance. . .

May 1, 2024 / nomadicpages / Leave a comment

They had given up. The realisation dawned slowly and sadly. Our friends had not seen God answer their prayers in the way they expected, in fact, he hadn’t answered their requests at all. All they’d experienced was silence and, discouraged, they lost hope in Him.

Our friends’ experience isn’t unusual. I’ve lost count of the number of times when, overwhelmed with helplessness, I’ve started shouting, ‘How long oh God?’ and asked the unanswerable why questions. Silences with God, seem to be a common and repeated feature of the Christian life.

Despite those moments when God appears not to answer, something in me keeps on praying. I may have little to show for my prayers, but giving up is not an option because, essential as breathing is to life, so prayer is a fundamental necessity that permeates every area of my life. The only danger which confronts me is my own inchoate thoughts which can wrongly interpret God’s silences. Is He uninterested in my request? Or do my shortcomings disqualify my prayers? Neither of these nor any other reasons which question God’s lack of interest in us or our inadequacies count when we try to reason why God hasn’t answered.

Set in our everyday lives of locale and circumstance, peace and trauma, ordinary or unusual, prayer is always personal, taking place as we reach out and connect with God. In our personal relationship with Him, He seems eager to teach us to wait and listen to Him. Although, I admit that I am less eager to wait. Yet He desires that we know Him better, understand His character more deeply, and, hopefully, surrender more of ourselves to Him.

Through the muddle and mire of life when I feel like I have reached the end of my endurance, God does come. And faith, that tenacious, persistent belief in Him which will not let go, rises. Faith enables me to acknowledge and embrace the truth of His presence. He is with me right now and that changes my perspective.

Walking forward, I take the next step, encouraged by His word, by friends and by His grace. He is faithful, steadfast in love, forgiving and kind. Inextricably linked, the practice of faith and prayer root us in God and enable us to entrust our petitions to Him knowing that He will arrange their answers and give us more than we requested.

But there is a mystery here too. His silences are a part of our lives, intertwined into our stories in ways that we can neither easily explain nor understand. Confused and weak, I ask God to empower me to continue with bold perseverance. The choice to rehearse what I believe and know of Him declutters my thoughts and once more exposes the foundation of my hope. Despite ongoing challenges and a lack of clarity, I will hope in Him.

He helps me to think differently. I start to understand that, rather than diminishing my faith, His silences extend the margins of what I can grasp of Him. They deepen my appreciation of His character and His ways. I pray that those friends who find themselves discouraged by His seeming lack of answers, may, as I continue to do, encounter fresh new depths of His love.

Finding Peace. . .

March 29, 2024March 29, 2024 / nomadicpages / 2 Comments

Standing cheek by jowl in the small Cotswold town of old millworkers’ cottages, our house is what you might call cosy and compact. We are thankful for a place to live, glad that we can unpack our twenty or so boxes that we sent from Mongolia, although we’ve yet to find space for everything.

We are also thankful for this next stage in ministry opening before us, but we are also eager to recover a sense of equilibrium. Foolishly, we thought that once we found a place to live, peace would return. But it hasn’t. Instead, there has been more turbulence as we navigate the quotidian tasks required to settle into a new location. All of which simply serve to remind me that organising a daily routine doesn’t necessarily bring peace and stability to my heart.

Perhaps I focused my eye on the wrong things. Impatient to attain what I considered some semblance of normality, my trust moved to functional and created things. It was a subtle shift caused by my longing for peace and security. But it didn’t work and revealed the ongoing sorrow that clouds my view of Jesus.

I’ve looked to things that are neither my heart’s desire, nor my life. What we really want is know God more deeply, to serve Him and please Him. Yet, instead I’ve tried to hold on to what’s already gone, trying to recreate those times when I felt His peace and presence close by. But the days of walking the ridges close to our home in Ulaanbaatar have passed; I cannot hold onto them.

I am slow to learn that finding contentment in God doesn’t depend on whether life’s circumstances are stable or not. God’s peace is above and beyond all of that, although I can’t just ask Him to ‘send it now’ and expect it to arrive. No, I have an active role to play in this relationship. I need to share my struggles with Him, seek His help and then recommit myself to what He has and is doing in my life, even when the grief that continues is far from tame.

By faith, I choose to look up and into His presence and, relying on the Holy Spirit’s power, ask Him to reign in me. My prayer draws me back, reorients my fitful gaze onto Him until I know that He is with me, bringing rest to my heart. His rest gives me peace which pronounces, from the inside out, that all may still feel strange and stability may not come in a moment, but His will and way are right and, in His good time, life will recover its equilibrium. And for now, that is more than enough.