Several years ago, we were enjoying a glorious autumn of
golds and russets. The leaves clung to the trees longer than normal and then, literally
overnight, temperatures plummeted, causing all the leaves to drop at once. The
three intertwined trunks of one of our Norwegian maples were suddenly exposed, while
beneath its bare branches was heaped an undulating pile of colour. It looked to
me like a human form just emerged from a shower, perhaps, having dropped its
bathrobe to the ground. Beautiful, striking and memorable. Naked and
vulnerable.
Circumstances and routines can define us, becoming familiar
and cosy, clothing us, like a protective bathrobe, from the world. When the seasons
of life change, shrugging off the old, familiar and even somehow comforting
cover requires courage.
I remember the fictional converstion imagined by Dostoevsky
in his great novel, The Brothers Karamazov, where he creates an interchange
between The Grand Inquisitor (the devil) and Jesus (imprisoned under the
Spanish Inquisition). The devil posits to Jesus that human beings are happier
living under the security of a dictatorial structure than they are having free
will and being able to choose their own way. Jesus remains silent throughout
the dialogue, his silence more eloquent than words, his love for humanity deep
and strong.
May I, with my eyes fixed on Jesus and the courage he
demonstrated in his life and death, step out into my day, ready to drop any
covers which have become a shield, willing to live life to the full as Jesus
enables me. May I step fully into my next chapter, whatever that may be.
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