Cleaning out a drawer a few weeks ago was like perusing a scrapbook of my life over this last year and a half. Every item I pick up is a memory…
There are a multitude of business and ministry cards, notes and addresses scribbled on scrap pieces of paper in languages I barely understand, from all over the world;
There are pictures, receipts, plane tickets; boarding passes; cards, letters, a Scottish 1 pound note, and a small piece of marble from Iona with a cross etched on one side that causes me to pause…
closing my eyes I hold hold it close for a moment.

And as I do a I am transported back in time…

It is an unusually warm day in May, the wind is blowing hard but the sun is out and it is lovely. Four years have passed since I last stood on the shore of this little island, and I am glad to be back.
Long have I dreamed of the day.

My hearts desire is to walk every inch of the island possible and pray, but this is not to be the case; my back is out from past injuries, and every step is agonizingly painful.
But this day, by Gods grace, I am determined to climb Dun I , the highest peak on the island.

Iona is a special place; a “thin place” as the Celts would say, where the veil between heaven and earth is thinner and sometimes lifted.
On an island such as this one may see angels…

Slowly I make my way down the narrow lane, climb over the fence and begin my trek. At first I walk through a boggy sheep pasture, dotted with newborn lambs nestling close to their mothers. One curious little fellow wobbles up to me; he is so adorable and sweet this tiny lamb.
And I muse…
We are all lambs; sheep in the Lords pasture…
Our Lord Jesus is the Good Shepherd watching over us;
and yet, our Saviour was, and is, the Lamb of God, slain from the foundation of the world…
The perfect sacrifice for our sins that we might inherit eternal life.
What a blessed mystery.

There is no clear path to follow; as there sometimes is not in life.
I pray as I make my way up the hill, climbing at times over boulders and mucking my way through the bogs. It feels as though the wind is pushing me ever upwards, the Spirit pulling me ever higher.
And as I climb, I am blessed by the stark beauty of the terrain and I realize I am not alone.

When at last I reach the top, the wind is blowing so hard I can barely stand upright. I lean into it and yet am held as unseen arms enfold me. The powerful reality of the Holy Spirits presence is upon me, with me and in me.
And there are angels there.

Gazing out in every direction, down to the crystal blue water and white sandy beaches below, across the sea towards the mainland, we stand there…
I am grateful for these who watch over and protect us; who throughout the ages have fought on behalf of the saints; against powers and principalities we know so little about.
my heart is captivated by the Lords love for this land and it’s people and am again made aware of the signifcance of this humble place.
My spirit wells up in prayer, in a song of praise and thanksgiving. I am in awe.
And then it rises up in warfare.
There are angels around me, and far away, yet close, they are warring in the heavenlies for the heart of this nation, for Scotland. And then my eyes look out across the ocean towards Ireland…
It is impossible for me to describe what was imparted to my spirit that day.

They are singing praises to the Lamb of God, and they are fighting in the unseen battle that is raging all around that most will never see. They respond to our prayers;
And they are watching over us all.

At the same time across the other side a small band of believers are also trekking around the island, following the leading of the Holy Spirit; partaking of the same anointing, called to a task of great importance.
Iona has been called the spiritual gateway to Scotland, and there is a battle for it’s control in the spiritual realm.
There are no limits to our God, He is everywhere, with all of His people at all times.
Though we were apart, in the spirit we were together; yet unaware of it.
And there were angels with them too…

When we reunite I sit with two brothers to hear the tale of their journey that day. The glory of the Lord shines brightly in one of their eyes, his face alight, shining as Moses must have when he came down from the mountain. My spirit leaps with joy and I am caught up in the retelling. I can see it, feel it, again I am in awe.
There is no doubt in my mind…

It was not the only time the angels revealed themselves during those few days.
Not everyone saw them, not everyone felt them.
Why this is I do not know, but such is the case for most of us, most of the time. The Lord knows; it’s His prerogative to choose when, and where, and to whom these experiences are granted and I am certain it has nothing much to do with us, but is all about Him.

I return to the drawer, smiling wistfully at the remembrance.
How our lives get so consumed by the everyday world in which we live.
But in this drawer, memories abound.
There are things I treasure here, not for their earthly value, but because they are reminders of special encounters I have had with the Lord. Moments that have changed me and how I see the world. Moments that only leave me hungering for more of Jesus love, His grace, and the reality of His life to manifest in mine.

I set the small stone down by my lamp where it remains, a small but powerful reminder of what has been, and a token of what yet lies ahead.
A reminder of Jesus, my dearly beloved and precious Redeemer, the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world!

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I started this a few weeks ago; drafted it for a later time; then forgot about it until tonight.
As I was preparing dinner the Holy Spirit overcame me and suddenly I was in Scotland for a moment, filled with the Lords heart for her. It was unexpected, unlooked for and unexplainable.
Tears welled up in my eyes as my heart was so stirred I could not talk for a while. Then I remembered this, and knew I had to post it.
So here it is, and if it challenges you I ask you only to pray, and then dig into the Word and read of the many, many encounters Gods people have always had.
Like Elisha in II Kings 6:17 I pray, Lord open their eyes that they may see!

Every Blessing to you as you draw ever closer to Jesus, the precious Lamb Of God!

While searching for some old posts about Scotland I came across this that I’d written in the midst of our recent move, but never posted. And since my heart is stirred again with memories of Gods divine presence during every journey there, I share once more another tale from a faith walk with the Lord Jesus Christ…

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It is impossible to sort through our belongings while packing, without coming across a great many reminders of days gone by. All week long I have been bumping into memories …
This afternoon while sorting through drawers I came across a small sheet of paper with the words to a hymn I had sung one dark stormy night by candlelight in an old abbey on my first trip to Scotland.
Pausing to reflect on the words, my spirit quickened at the memory…

The little ferry pitched to and fro in the storm that evening as one wave after another slammed into it’s side. It was the last run of the day and there had been a question of whether or not it would even make the crossing but thankfully it did. This was my last night wandering around Scotland with the Lord as my guide before heading back to Kilsyth, where I’d fetch my belongings and catch a ride to the airport the following day.
I had been working my way across Scotland from the east coast starting at 5:30 am that morning, and had traveled by car, train, ferry, bus and ferry yet again to arrive at my destination; the tiny Island of Iona.

It was almost dark when I walked off the ramp of the ferry out onto little road leading to the Abby. When I booked a room in Oban for a B&B I was told to head that direction, so off I went in the pouring rain,. The wind was so strong it blew out my umbrella, but the sweet and powerful presence of the Lord was so tangible , not even a storm could move me from the place of rest and peace I had in Him.

This had been such an amazing journey with the Lord Jesus, one in which He revealed Himself to me in such an intimate way as my Shepherd, Protector, Provider, my King and yet my Elder Brother and closest Friend. There had been many similar evenings; arriving in an unfamiliar town only without having previously booked accommodations, relying solely on the Lord to lead me to the place He would have me stay for the night. Faithfully He always made a way.

As it turned out the directions I’d been given were wrong, and by the time I arrived at Findley Ross ( which was back by the dock ) I was cold, wet and ready for a bite to eat. After checking into my tiny room I changed into dry clothes, had a few minutes of prayer then walked across the road for dinner.

Seated next to a couple from Sweden it wasn’t long before we were engaged in conversation, and I was invited to join them for the 9pm worship in the Abbey, which I did. We walked together in what had now become a gale, but we laughed about it as we turned into the wind, all hope of using an umbrella having been dismissed.

The atmosphere was in some ways ethereal as we took our seats. Outside the ancient sanctuary the wind howled, but inside it was still, with long rows of candles illuminating the room. I half expected to hear the sound of monks chanting, their voices echoing across the centuries that night, but instead we listened to a plea for world peace and were invited to come and gaze upon the painted aboriginal stones from Australia, which were making their way around the world as a token of goodwill for every nation and religion.
My spirit was grieved by the new age influence yet rose above it to seek the face of the Lord in worship as we sang the following song. It was as if I could feel the anointing of faith from every believer who had truly worshipped in this place, resting upon us as we sang.

“Lord Jesus Christ shall I stand still
And stare at you hung on the tree;
Or shall I move to where you move
And die to self , yet live for thee?
Shall I to sin and failure cling
Consorting with the guilt I hate
Or on Your shoulders shall I fling
The wrong I breed and contemplateShall I Your story read and tell
To note your mark in history;
Or shall I make your story mine
And live by faith and mystery?

Shall I embrace the love you show,
And covet this sweet, holy thing;
and of that love shall my heart speak
My hands relate, my being sing?

Shall I retreat from where you fall
And seek a safer path through life;
Or shall I meet you in the world
Where peace is scarce, injustice rife?

Lord Jesus Christ, the God who lives
Who loved and died and rose again
Make me the who, and you the why,
Your way the how, and now the when”

Throughout the journey the longing to ever dwell in the presence of the Lord Jesus Christ, had been my reality in a manner I had rarely experienced. Through my absolute dependence on the Father I learned this was possible not only throughout eternity, but while yet living here on earth. And like every journey that has followed since and those yet to come, Jesus etched His name deeper upon my heart, leaving an indelible mark that has branded me as His forever.

In the morning I arose before daylight desiring to climb Dun I, but to no avail. No one was around to enquire of and I did not know the way. Sadly I accept this may not be the right time, and wander through the nunnery ruins instead.
The wind is still blowing but the rain has ceased, and the Lord walks with me so I am glad. When the time comes I am reluctant to leave. Will this anointing remain; will I be able to feel the Lords presence so readily, hear His voice so clearly as I have, once I return home? The thought that I may not pierces my soul.

Asking the Lord for a reminder of this time I experience another new thing in the Spirit of the Lord; I am given specific instructions of where to look. I follow them to find hidden in the back of a little flower bed, a pure white dove feather resting on a bush. Everything around it is muddy, but It is clean and perfect. A beautiful symbol of the Holy Spirit so precious, whose presence had been manifest throughout this journey beyond what I had ever hoped or imagined.

Four years later I would visit Iona again; not alone this time but with my sister and others who were there for a season of prayer. On our last night the Lord Jesus would do something most unexpected, which brought me into a deeper more intimate communion with Him through a call to intercession that I believe is a lifetime commitment before the Lord Jesus Christ. From that day until now the burden to pray increases and expands; and is one I continue to grow in.

The cares a of life often crowd out the necessary time of quiet reflection before the Lord Jesus; my humanity overrides the Spirit all too often. Yet there are days like today when my spirit is drawn into that secret place of the Most High and He whispers “Come, sit with Me for a while“.
For a moment I touch heaven again on earth, the glory of the Lord passes by and I am in awe at His majesty and humbled by His merciful grace and love extended to me. A love I could never deserve and yet He so freely gives.

It is impossible for me to look back upon every trip to Scotland without a slight sense of longing, as every one has held similarly precious and yet unique encounters with Him. Each journey seems more precious than the one before, with a profoundly awakening touch of His life and grace.
Jesus is my very life as He is yours; without Him we are nothing and can do nothing of any worth. But with Him ALL things are possible! May you walk with Him this day, in the very presence and Spirit of the Most High God, who is our life and breath and reason for being. He’s waiting just for you.

The day dawned sunny and warm on the west coast of Scotland where we had spent the previous day and night near Carnoustie. We said our farewells to our wonderful hosts then set out with no real agenda save what the Lord had in mind. It had been revealed in part, but the Spirit wouldn’t allow me to say much, simply asking me to trust Him. Little did I know it would unfold before us as a summer rose, whose fragrance lingers in my spirit yet today…

After stopping in Dundee for lunch we talked about different possibilities and I knew that if we were going to make it to the Highlands something needed to happen quickly. True to Gods unfailing faithfulness, Phils sensitivity to the Spirit, and Richards willingness to drive wherever, and do whatever the Lord directed, we were soon headed in the right direction.

As we drove north, the Spirit nudged us to stop at The Hermitage; a National Heritage Trust site set in the Craigvean Forest. The name conjured up images of monks in my mind, but is actually the site of a cave which was home to a Celtic Bard and warrior many long years ago, set in a stunningly beautiful forest with miles of trails intersecting here and there with the River Braan.

We had barely started down a path along the river when a wave of joy flooded my soul and I began to laugh knowing that angels were with us, that they would reveal themselves and that and the Lord had something special in store for us. The Holy Spirits presence began to manifest in a most wonderful way, bringing revelation as He opened eyes to see and ears to hear more of the awesome splendor of His majesty expressed in His creation, and the beautiful sound of it returning praises to the Lord.

The journey began as all do, long before we boarded the plane to fly across the Atlantic. In some ways it was a continuation of the first trip to Scotland almost five years earlier and every one since; a journey born in the Spirit initially through a vision I had been given of an outpouring of the Holy Spirit in the UK. But that is another story for another time. In other ways this was a trip unlike any before, and I’m not certain if I will ever be able to adequately describe and retell of the precious and transforming encounters we had in and with the Lord.

This post will be from a more practical perspective; a testimony to the Lords faithfulness to perform that which He has promised He would do. I pray it will be an encouragement to others who are being stirred to step out in faith to do something the Lord has placed in their heart.
For once again He has shown that He is ever and always faithful!
Praise the holy and wonderful name of Jesus, Name above all names!

For several months we had been impressed to return to Scotland to minister and pray, the latter becoming an increasing focus for me as time passed. As it turned out this was certainly my primary purpose for being there. For Richard evangelism, bringing the good news to the lost is always his heart, his motivation and focus.
What matters most is being led by the Holy Spirit, responding to Gods will as it is revealed and flowing with that.

The morning dawned and with it a joyful anticipation for what the Lord would have in store for us that day. We had spent the night in the highlands, after a blessed time of awakening and revelation at the Hermitage and a time of sweet fellowship the day before.

Misty clouds hung over the top of the mountains, with the sun breaking through, gracing us with it’s presence, just as The Son had all throughout the journey thus far. We headed further up into the Highlands on a road the Lord had shown us a few days earlier while I was praying over this time together. None of us knew what to expect, only that as we remained in the Spirit in and before the Lord Jesus, He would order our day and it would be good.

Led by the Holy Spirit to stop at a dam that bridged a mountain loch, we set out prayerfully and crossed to the other side. From the moment we began crossing the bridge until we returned over two hours later, I felt intense opposition from the enemy and yet a quiet and powerful assurance that we had the authority and right to be there, given and graced by the Lord of the Highlands and of the whole earth, Jesus Christ our Savior and King.

 

Turning onto the tree lined road I immediately felt a rush as the Holy Spirit swept over me with a wave of anointing from the thinness of the place. Whithorn; cradle of Christianity in Scotland and the the southern point of prayer. I had been there in the Spirit a few weeks before; removed from time and from the cares of this world, I stood in the presence of the Lord; feeling the wind in my hair, the sun on my face; I could hear the crashing waves upon the shore and taste the salty air upon my lips.
The experience was as real as any I’ve ever had.

I knew the Lord would meet us here; that we were to pray and that He would speak to us. But as I have learned and yet am continually learning, the reality is oft far different than the imagined, and so I try, sometimes in vain, to leave preconceived notions behind, that I might embrace the fullness of what the Lord has ordained at any given moment.

We walked in silence down the path leading to the sea; the beauty of the place only heightened by the presence of the Lord. The woodland floor wore a carpet of bluebells, buttercups and starry white wild garlic blooms, mixed here and there with giant ferns still opening their lacy fronds. Trees stretched their limbs ever upwards to the deep blue sky above, their leaves whispering praises to God, joined by the songs of birds and all of creation worshpping the great I AM, Creator of all that was and is and evermore shall be.

Soon the woods were behind and the hills on each side gave way to the rocky shore before us. To the right Ninians cave could be seen in the distance, with one lone pilgrim heading our way; his time of prayer completed as we were about to begin our own.

Our season of prayer at Ninians Cave had ended; but the anointing and burden of the Lord was still heavy upon me as we walked through the woods. Every sense remained heightened, very much aware of the thinness of the veil.
I had gone ahead and was waiting for the others when I felt a nudge from the Holy Spirit to walk down the road and take a look around. On my right sat a beautiful old stone house, nestled in the trees at the edge of the woods where the path we had just taken wound down to the sea. Before it lay fields, and it was here the Lord had me stop.
He spoke quite clearly, “Look, and tell me what you see.”

‘Directly in front of me is a very old large stone trough empty and dry. To the side a newer trough half full of dirty brackish water. They sit in unkempt fields, full of weeds, stretching off in the distance, beyond which lays the sea. The fences are in disrepair; the stone walls crumbling and broken…
The day Is far spent; and though the sun is still shining it is going down in the West.’
As I spoke these words a shiver ran through me. The sun is going down in the west…
Not only here in Scotland, but in every western nation. Our day is quickly fading and there isn’t much time left before night falls.

Cleaning out a drawer a few weeks ago was like perusing a scrapbook of my life over this last year and a half. Every item I pick up is a memory…
There are a multitude of business and ministry cards, notes and addresses scribbled on scrap pieces of paper in languages I barely understand, from all over the world;
There are pictures, receipts, plane tickets; boarding passes; cards, letters, a Scottish 1 pound note, and a small piece of marble from Iona with a cross etched on one side that causes me to pause…
closing my eyes I hold hold it close for a moment.

And as I do a I am transported back in time…

It is an unusually warm day in May, the wind is blowing hard but the sun is out and it is lovely. Four years have passed since I last stood on the shore of this little island, and I am glad to be back.
Long have I dreamed of the day.

My hearts desire is to walk every inch of the island possible and pray, but this is not to be the case; my back is out from past injuries, and every step is agonizingly painful.
But this day, by Gods grace, I am determined to climb Dun I , the highest peak on the island.

Iona is a special place; a “thin place” as the Celts would say, where the veil between heaven and earth is thinner and sometimes lifted.
On an island such as this one may see angels…