Risky Living

I stretched my hand carefully through the thorny tangle of bramble stems, focused on the plump berries deep within. I noticed the sticky web just before plunging through it, and drew back as I saw the brown striped spider scurrying away to the edge. I’d have to find another way to reach those berries, and as I considered, I noticed the spider’s dilemma: a succulent insect struggled, caught on his web, and I could imagine the spider salivating, if indeed spiders can salivate! We were both on hold as we considered the risk to gather our tasty morsel.

Sometimes it is easy to ‘taste and see that the Lord is good’. Other times there are things in the way, risks we must take, temptations we must resist in order to gather in the nourishment he provides.

Permission to Fail

Faith is spelled R-I-S-K.

Someone said that to me recently, and I’ve been reading similar things in a few places. If we don’t take risks, the Kingdom of God will never come on earth as it is in heaven.

I also read recently the statement that children are professional mistake-makers. That is great, because that is how they learn. 

Jesus called us to be like little children. Usually we cite attributes of children such as trust and enthusiasm as the characteristics Jesus was calling forth in adults, but perhaps he is also calling us to become professional mistake-makers. 

As we grow into adult hood, we build nests and feather them with those things we are comfortable with. We then pretty much retreat into those comfort zones, where we feel in control.

In control. That’s just it, isn’t it? We are called to cede control to God, and in a funny way that is the road to true freedom.

Of course dependence is another characteristic of children, but in our society we train our children to be independent. Independence isn’t a bad thing, but being fiercely independent reveals a deep-seated pride, a reluctance to admit that we are not, after all, in control of our lives. 

It’s scary to take risks, because it carries the inherent possibility that we may fail. We all want to be seen to be successful, not failures. 

That’s where the loving community of believers comes in, though, where we are allowed to fail, even perhaps encouraged to fail. Because if we never fail, it shows we have never really followed Jesus outside of our comfort zones and into uncharted territory.

And he calls us to go to the whole world with the great news that he loves the world so much he died for it.

Not a message our jaded society is gagging to hear.

Or is it?

Sudden Squalls

The Sea of Galilee is prone to sudden squalls, roiling up out of nowhere. When I was there last month, the water was steely grey and choppy, but fortunately for us, while we were out on it there was no dramatic deterioration of the weather. I’m not great on boats in bad weather. Sailing off the west coast of Scotland has proven that.

After our early morning sea voyage that day, quietly contemplating or singing worship songs, we disembarked and did some other sightseeing in the area. When we returned to our hotel room that night, the rainbow over the Sea was just amazing. Such a gift.

I’m leading the reflections in the Scottish parliament tomorrow afternoon, and will be speaking about one instance when Jesus’ friends were out on the Sea of Galilee without him. When a fierce storm blew up, they thought they were done for, but then they saw Jesus approaching, walking on the water. They were all terrified he was a ghost, which he reassured them he was not.

When Peter asked him to prove it by calling him to his side on the water, Jesus did, and Peter leapt out of the boat and over the side. While his eyes remained fixed on Jesus he did not sink, but when he was distracted by the winds, down he went. Jesus took his hand and helped him back into the boat.

It’s such a picture of hope. When we are overtaken by sudden squalls in our own lives, Jesus is there, in remarkable ways. Maybe in the words of a song or the sound of a bird. In the laughter of a child or a rainbow. 

Tomorrow I’ll be talking about getting out of the boat. But today, I like the assurance that even in the sudden squalls, Jesus is with us, reaching out to help us back into a safe place.

Jesus is always with us.