some thoughts about pressure

The internal world can be a stormy place! Life can seem good, then something happens and on the inside we find ourselves facing dark skies, strong winds and high seas! Pressure. Imagine life without any pressure. Imagine never growing up! Sir Edmund Hillary reportedly climbed Mt Everest "because it was there". Could it be that the purpose of mountains is to be climbed; the purpose of giants is to be killed; the purpose of problems is to be overcome?

Here's a thought: the purpose of every outside pressure is to effect inside change which in turn effects outside change which benefits not only me but all those touched by my life?

Naaahh. I think I'll just sit here and be depressed!

Some thoughts about security.

"Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist." (John 13:3-4)

Is "so" the most important word in this passage? What Jesus was about to do - not just washing the disciples' feet, but going to the cross - was the hardest thing any human being has ever done voluntarily! Yet we see no hesitation; no procrastination; no looking for a way out. How could Jesus be so secure in the face of such a difficult calling? Answer: he knew where he had come from; where he was going; and what it was that God had given him.

I wonder; if we lived out of that "so", . . . . . . . . .

Thinking in the vines.

Recently I had the privilege to spend a few days in the Hunter Valley with some other pastors. I was reflecting as I sat in front of an open fire, looking out on the winter vines: it is what we produce that makes our lives beautiful. During winter, the vines lose all their leaves; they are pruned back and left sitting, brooding and dark until spring, when new leaves begin to grow and the fruit begins to develop. During spring and summer, you don’t see the vines themselves. All you see is a blanket of green leaves and later, hanging bunches of sweet, juicy grapes. But each winter all that beauty falls away. The vines do not demand to be seen and appreciated; they do not insist that we notice and admire them. They just sit there, resting and quiet, until spring rolls on again and it is their season to produce fruit. I ask myself; do I demand that others notice and admire me, or am I content to allow the fruit of my life to define me?

I think there is something in that for all of us, don't you?