“You cut me down to size and opened up my eyes, made me realize what I could not see.” - Coldplay, “Swallowed in the Sea”
A great juggler invokes the awe of the audience. Multiple balls fly through the air in figure-eight patterns, bowling pins and blazing batons are thrown and caught and maneuvered with impossible flawlessness and skill. The crowd watches in wonder. How can he keep so many balls in the air? How come he never drops the bowling pins? Why doesn’t he feel the heat of the blazing batons?
The Holy Spirit juggles much this way, according to the scriptures. No one has more balls in the air.
Perhaps our fears, when we peel them down to their core, come from forgetting. We fear that we’ll be forgotten by those who care for us, by those who should care for us. The greatest fear is that God will, or has, forgotten us.
At some point in our childhood, we hear a story about a bird. Why we hear this story, anyone can guess. Perhaps one generation feels the need to illustrate problem solving for the next.
The bird (a raven or a crow) grows thirsty. To his delight, he discovers a jar of water. To his dismay, the jar is half full. He has both a beak too short to reach and no hands to lift the jar to his mouth.
You will not reach perfection in this lifetime.
Why don’t we teach this? How much heartache could we avoid?
Some people sow frustration by planting a vine called kudzu. Have you ever seen kudzu? Somebody thought it would be great for cattle because it grows anywhere and quickly. Cows didn’t like it. It now covers the South.
As a single, I view marriage differently than my hitched friends. The conditions of this institution leave me baffled. Perhaps the seemingly complex and intricate interactions of two persons should not shock me so much, but they do.
“You have two options,” he said, “chocolate or vanilla ice cream. Which do you choose?”
“Chocolate,” she replied.
He asked why, and then she gave her reason.