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It's hard to find the words by Lorna Clark

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I had been sitting at my desk, trying to write a story about Thomas, the disciple. I was feeling sorry for the man who seemed to be remembered mainly for his doubt. I had done my background reading and prayed about it, but still nothing was coming, so I prayed again. When I say ‘prayed’ I was actually telling God that I was struggling and it would be far more effective if he just dictated what I had to say, plus no one would really be interested in my writing and the book would probably never get published anyway. As I waited in silence, it dawned on me that I was sounding like a spoilt child who didn’t want to do her homework, so I asked for his forgiveness. He had put this project on my heart and so I’d do it. It’s strange how he hardly ever responds as I would expect him to. This time two Bible verses embedded themselves in my mind. ‘God loves a cheerful giver.’ That hit hard. I was cheerful enough giving financially and timewise to other people but I wasn’t cheerful about givin...
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On Retreat by Nigel Oakley

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How to describe the past two weeks? Almost, but not quite, laid up with the worst cold I’ve had for years. Normally in recent years, a cold would hold me back at night (when tablets would need to be swallowed so I could sleep in comfort), but during the day, apart from making sure there were plenty of tissues to hand, I’d be carrying on with whatever schedule my day held. This time, I was forced into drastic measures: a visit to the local Spar shop for daytime cold remedies (16 tablets). A whole box of tissues had been used up by my frantic nose-blowing, so a new box had to be bought. The two items came to a grand total of £11 – I held my bank card to the machine without a murmur. Before those of you used to cheaper products say (or write) anything, I will point out I was on Iona. Supposed to be on retreat – concentrating on ‘higher things.’ Now I am on my last full day as I write this, I am feeling (and sounding, I’m told) better. The weather is even improving in that we’ve gone most ...
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Dolphins gamboling in a calm sea

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      Dolphins gamboling in a calm sea ‘The mind at rest produces holy and mysterious thoughts, like dolphins gambolling above a calm sea.’       Heyscius of Batos, an early monastic writer I’ve not been lucky enough to see a school of dolphins in the wild, only in a ‘show’. The beauty of their lithe forms executing perfectly synchronised parabolic paths above the waves is so satisfying. It’s not at all surprising that the ancient Greeks thought of the dolphin as a symbol of life. (I feel I should apologise for the very stationary dolphins in the picture; pressing the camera button at precisely the right moment to catch them in the air was quite beyond me.) The quote is from an ancient book about prayer. It describes beautifully the experience of having a new thought during a time of waiting on God, but it’s also an apt description of a moment of writerly inspiration. A fresh idea may suddenly strike us out of nowhere and it’s so compelling ...
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Is AI Suppressing the Truth…Oh! And the semi-colon?

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St Paul is scathing in his criticism of those who suppress the truth…as was Jesus before him…and Isaiah before Christ. ‘The wrath of God is revealed against all…who suppress the truth in unrighteousness’ Rom 1v18 ‘Woe to you scribes (interesting?) and Pharisees! For you shut the door of the kingdom of heaven against men; you neither go in yourselves nor permit others who are entering to go in’ Matt 23v13 ‘Truth has fallen in the public square’ Is 59v14 When Mao, Stalin, and Hitler burned books, the world witnessed the power of dictatorships to suppress the truth. Watching Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 - the temperature that paper burns - at school was a good use of education. Like all of us, I am watching the development of AI with interest. My antennae are twitching, trying to sift, discern, weigh, not condemn wholesale…but there’s more than one way to dictate what others are permitted to read or not. Burning books is one way. Preventing good literature (and awful literature) fr...
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The vine and the gardener

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Impressions of cherry blossom, imperfectly painted by me I’ve been practising watercolour painting for over a year. Many art tutors, online and elsewhere, say that perfectionism is the enemy of creativity. Budding artists are advised not to aim for perfection because that will only cause endless frustration. For people just starting to draw and paint, there is usually a wide gap between what we see and what we try to capture on paper! Watercolour in particular is a beautiful medium but not always an easy one: you have to practice water control, how to load your brushes so you have the right mixture of water and paint, and how to judge the amount of water on the page so you can get those lovely watercolour effects. I make loads of mistakes, but that is how I learn. Sometimes those mistakes, like ‘blooms’ with hard edges on the page – watercolour artists often call them ‘cauliflowers’ – can work. Accidental water blooms in one of my seascapes ended up looking like reflections. Tha...
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An Ordinary Kind of Sadness

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                         Picture credit: HBO Some years ago, I spent Christmas Eve in the living room of an elderly lady’s one-bedroom flat. The Wizard of Oz was playing on the TV. The lady sat bolt upright on the sofa, neatly dressed, eyes glued to the screen. On her lap was a Yorkshire Terrier, growling and snappy. Perhaps he didn’t care for the Wicked Witch, or Toto was setting him off? Or maybe he was upset about the lady being dead. The telly was on a high volume. That was the giveaway. When it stayed on all night and all morning, neighbours called the police and I turned up to force entry.   I was twenty-two years old and had been a copper for about a year. My colleague was even fresher out of the box, yet to deal with his first body – a sudden death, as they’re known. I’d already encountered a few, so it was my job to show him the ropes. When people think about policing and dead bodies, the fir...
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Beauty all around us

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  Last Monday, 30 March, just after 7.00 pm I walked out of a shop in a busy shopping centre in Orpington, to the most beautiful, breathtaking sunset I have ever seen, as shown in the photo above.    It wasn’t there when I went into the shop, and to my absolute surprise, there it was like a gigantic painting, suspended in the sky.    I immediately got my phone out and started taking photos.    I noticed one or two other people doing the same.    The photo doesn’t actually give it justice, as it was one of the most awesome and largest scenes in the sky that I have ever come across. My first thought was that it was a sign from God placed there for everyone to see, and the words “Jesus is coming” flowed from within me to a gentleman nearby who was also in awe of it, taking photos and who replied “Yes, He is coming soon”.  I love the wonderful, special connection you feel with brothers and sisters in Christ, even though you have never m...
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