Hanging out the load of wet towels, I noticed the voluptuous
growth of the honeysuckle planted there years before. Having trailed rather
forlornly across the stone dyke, it finally found a tree to which it could
cling, winding round and round, held securely in wind or storm by the strength
of the tree trunk.
I was about to say that I feel a little like a wet towel,
but that wasn’t the point of this anecdote!
When not anchored to something strong, we can wander all
over the place. We are weak and easily breakable. We can be trampled and we can
be nibbled at. It’s only when we cling to God that we have strength to face
whatever comes at us. The honeysuckle grew quietly, nearly invisibly, until one
day I noticed where it was. May my faith continue to grow without fanfare; may
it grow increasingly dependent on God, incrementally, until that day when I
meet Jesus face to face, and he greets me with familiarity and delight.
I can do nothing without him, but with him, I can do
everything.
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