A seashell. Just the ordinary kind found on beaches the
world over, dirty white and scalloped.
Discarded. No longer needed by the soft life that once dwelt
within. A life now gone, pounded out by the storms of life, the tossing of the
waves, snatched by the jaws of predators.
I see the men of power parading on the world’s stage, and I see
shells, empty shells. Their experiences and choices have hardened them into the
brittle and bitter shells we see. They have allowed their empathy and humanity
to be pounded out of them, snatched away by the enemy.
‘God sits above the circle of the earth. The people below
seem like grasshoppers to him! He judges the great people of the world and
brings them all to nothing. They hardly get started, barely taking root, when
he blows on them and they wither. The wind carries them off like chaff.’
I am so grateful for the pertinence of the ancient words of
Isaiah 40. May my prayers be born in the love of God for his creation, full of
compassion and kindness, shimmering with the joy of hope in the faithful God
who never changes, who is full of justice and mercy, full of grace.
May I never allow the world to reduce me to a hardened
shell. May my fragile human love be strengthened by the powerful, tough love of
God. May I always trust in the Lord Jesus Christ, my Saviour and the King of
Creation.
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