"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do then by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."Mark Twain
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Quotes for living - 2
"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do then by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbour. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."Mark Twain
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Zacchaeus
Zacchaeus. Pure. That’s what his name means, and the people of Jericho must have laughed, or else despaired, every time his name was mentioned.
Luke tells us that he was ‘a chief tax collector and was wealthy’ (Lk 19:1-2). It’s reckoned that there were three principle tax offices covering Judea at that time. One of them was based in Jericho, where Zacchaeus, the chief tax collector, the king of the hill, took his cut from the the gains of all of his employees, who had, in turn, squeezed every denarius they could from the reluctant purses of the populace to feather their own nests. No wonder he was wealthy! And no wonder he was hated – a taxman and collaborator to boot!
I’ve often wondered about Zacchaeus’ early life. Luke tells us that he was short. I wouldn't be surprised to discover he'd been the butt of many a joke, and the object of many a bully as he grew up, his heart becoming increasingly calloused. It was Alfred Adler who coined the term inferiority complex. He cited another small man, Napoleon, as the classic example of someone who compensated for his perceived shortcomings by a pathological power drive, striving to make a big impact on the world. I think that he could just as easily have cited Zacchaeus!
He must have got quite a kick as those who once teased him now trembled as he knocked on their doors. He knew that they cursed and spat behind his back, and glowered and grumbled as he walked by. He made out he didn’t care…but I’m sure that, in his heart of hearts, he wanted both to love and be loved. But now it was too late.
Or was it? I’m convinced that he saw in Jesus some hope of redemption. That’s why he went to such desperate measures. Perhaps he had heard the story of another taxman, Levi the Capernaum Clutcher, who had abandoned his tax booth to follow this amazing teacher and worker of miracles. Like him, Levi was very rich, but it seemed that he, too, had discovered just how empty those material riches were.
So here he was – desperate measures – up a tree both spiritually and physically, out of the line of sight of those who hated him, but responding to the spark that had ignited and flickered against the cold walls of his heart.
But he wasn’t prepared for what happened next. He didn’t expect Jesus to stop right underneath the limb he was clinging to. And he didn’t expect him to look up and invite himself for dinner. And he certainly didn’t expect him to know his name!! He almost fell out of the tree, but managed to slither down, ripping skin, and stand, overjoyed, before this man who welcomed him with open arms.
The well-to-do’s and holier-than-thou’s in the crowd were scandalised: "He has gone to be the guest of a sinner!!"
I wonder what that dinner party at Zacchaeus’ house was like. From what we know of Zacchaeus, the guests were not ‘A’ List! They didn’t consist of the so-called ‘respectable’ members of society – because they wouldn’t touch Zacchaeus with a barge pole, or whatever was the equivalent in those days – a trireme oar, perhaps!
No, the guests could only have been fellow misfits; undesirables – the sort of people that you would steer clear of; the ones you would cross the road to avoid; those whose children you would warn your children to stay away from. But that’s where Jesus chose to share table fellowship, giving out God’s love; revealing God’s heart; pouring out God’s grace.
Maybe Jesus told the story of the Prodigal Son – that’s how Franco Zifferelli portrays the scene in his film, ‘Jesus of Nazareth’. The wine-swigging, joke-telling guests listen in silence as Jesus talks about the son who demands his inheritance, leaves home…and lives the life of Riley, before hitting the skids, becoming destitute, and finally returning home a broken man, only to confront his father running down the road towards him and enveloping him in his arms.
Whatever Jesus said, his words together with his embrace of those outcasts gathered there, caused the spark in Zacchaeus’ heart to burst into flame: “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.”
………..did you hear that bump? That was Zacchaeus’ wife hitting the ground! Can you imagine the others guests sat around the room with eyes like saucers and chins on chests! And can you imagine the queue of people outside Zacchaeus’ door the following morning!
We’re not talking about a slight reorientation of Zacchaeus’ priorities here – we’re talking about a paradigm shift, a seismic change in his thinking and actions. A life transformed.
And if Jesus wanted to welcome and share fellowship with a person like Zacchaeus, doesn’t it follow that he wants to welcome, and forgive and transform us, too?
When the Prodigal Son returned home, he was given a ring for his finger, a robe for his back, and shoes for his feet…..topped off by a humdinger of a party! In the same discourse, Jesus told two other stories. The first was about a sheep that wandered off and became lost. But the shepherd didn’t give up hope, and searched until he found the sheep, bringing it home on his shoulders, before throwing a party to celebrate. And, then, a story about a woman who lost a precious coin, but who was prepared to turn her house upside down in a determined search which achieved its goal, followed once more by a big party of celebration for the neighbourhood.
Extreme, don’t you think? After all, it was only a sheep….and a mere coin?
But they were precious to their owners. And we may think that we have little value, but we’re precious in God’s sight. And when we’re found again, God just loves to throw a party! Jesus says, “In the same way, there is rejoicing in heaven in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents” (Lk 15).
Although the people despised Zacchaeus, I reckon that they envied his parties! I just get a sense that if anyone could throw a party it was Zacchaeus. But the party in Zacchaeus’ house that night was nothing like the party being thrown in heaven when he came to faith. Can’t you just imagine the angels looking wide-eyed at one another: “Can you believe it? Zacchaeus has become a follower of the Master. Yes, that Zacchaeus…." and then whooping aloud, and looping the loop!!
Jesus came to reconcile people like Zacchaeus, and people like us, to God. And, yes, he knows exactly what we’re like, better than we know ourselves. And yet, still he reaches out in love to us, inviting a personal response!
We don’t hear about Zacchaeus again. We’ve got no idea what became of him. But I’m pretty certain that he spent the rest of his life telling other people about God’s love for him…and the day that Jesus came to town!
Luke tells us that he was ‘a chief tax collector and was wealthy’ (Lk 19:1-2). It’s reckoned that there were three principle tax offices covering Judea at that time. One of them was based in Jericho, where Zacchaeus, the chief tax collector, the king of the hill, took his cut from the the gains of all of his employees, who had, in turn, squeezed every denarius they could from the reluctant purses of the populace to feather their own nests. No wonder he was wealthy! And no wonder he was hated – a taxman and collaborator to boot!
I’ve often wondered about Zacchaeus’ early life. Luke tells us that he was short. I wouldn't be surprised to discover he'd been the butt of many a joke, and the object of many a bully as he grew up, his heart becoming increasingly calloused. It was Alfred Adler who coined the term inferiority complex. He cited another small man, Napoleon, as the classic example of someone who compensated for his perceived shortcomings by a pathological power drive, striving to make a big impact on the world. I think that he could just as easily have cited Zacchaeus!
He must have got quite a kick as those who once teased him now trembled as he knocked on their doors. He knew that they cursed and spat behind his back, and glowered and grumbled as he walked by. He made out he didn’t care…but I’m sure that, in his heart of hearts, he wanted both to love and be loved. But now it was too late.
Or was it? I’m convinced that he saw in Jesus some hope of redemption. That’s why he went to such desperate measures. Perhaps he had heard the story of another taxman, Levi the Capernaum Clutcher, who had abandoned his tax booth to follow this amazing teacher and worker of miracles. Like him, Levi was very rich, but it seemed that he, too, had discovered just how empty those material riches were.
So here he was – desperate measures – up a tree both spiritually and physically, out of the line of sight of those who hated him, but responding to the spark that had ignited and flickered against the cold walls of his heart.
But he wasn’t prepared for what happened next. He didn’t expect Jesus to stop right underneath the limb he was clinging to. And he didn’t expect him to look up and invite himself for dinner. And he certainly didn’t expect him to know his name!! He almost fell out of the tree, but managed to slither down, ripping skin, and stand, overjoyed, before this man who welcomed him with open arms.
The well-to-do’s and holier-than-thou’s in the crowd were scandalised: "He has gone to be the guest of a sinner!!"
I wonder what that dinner party at Zacchaeus’ house was like. From what we know of Zacchaeus, the guests were not ‘A’ List! They didn’t consist of the so-called ‘respectable’ members of society – because they wouldn’t touch Zacchaeus with a barge pole, or whatever was the equivalent in those days – a trireme oar, perhaps!
No, the guests could only have been fellow misfits; undesirables – the sort of people that you would steer clear of; the ones you would cross the road to avoid; those whose children you would warn your children to stay away from. But that’s where Jesus chose to share table fellowship, giving out God’s love; revealing God’s heart; pouring out God’s grace.
Maybe Jesus told the story of the Prodigal Son – that’s how Franco Zifferelli portrays the scene in his film, ‘Jesus of Nazareth’. The wine-swigging, joke-telling guests listen in silence as Jesus talks about the son who demands his inheritance, leaves home…and lives the life of Riley, before hitting the skids, becoming destitute, and finally returning home a broken man, only to confront his father running down the road towards him and enveloping him in his arms.
Whatever Jesus said, his words together with his embrace of those outcasts gathered there, caused the spark in Zacchaeus’ heart to burst into flame: “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.”
………..did you hear that bump? That was Zacchaeus’ wife hitting the ground! Can you imagine the others guests sat around the room with eyes like saucers and chins on chests! And can you imagine the queue of people outside Zacchaeus’ door the following morning!
We’re not talking about a slight reorientation of Zacchaeus’ priorities here – we’re talking about a paradigm shift, a seismic change in his thinking and actions. A life transformed.
And if Jesus wanted to welcome and share fellowship with a person like Zacchaeus, doesn’t it follow that he wants to welcome, and forgive and transform us, too?
When the Prodigal Son returned home, he was given a ring for his finger, a robe for his back, and shoes for his feet…..topped off by a humdinger of a party! In the same discourse, Jesus told two other stories. The first was about a sheep that wandered off and became lost. But the shepherd didn’t give up hope, and searched until he found the sheep, bringing it home on his shoulders, before throwing a party to celebrate. And, then, a story about a woman who lost a precious coin, but who was prepared to turn her house upside down in a determined search which achieved its goal, followed once more by a big party of celebration for the neighbourhood.
Extreme, don’t you think? After all, it was only a sheep….and a mere coin?
But they were precious to their owners. And we may think that we have little value, but we’re precious in God’s sight. And when we’re found again, God just loves to throw a party! Jesus says, “In the same way, there is rejoicing in heaven in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents” (Lk 15).
Although the people despised Zacchaeus, I reckon that they envied his parties! I just get a sense that if anyone could throw a party it was Zacchaeus. But the party in Zacchaeus’ house that night was nothing like the party being thrown in heaven when he came to faith. Can’t you just imagine the angels looking wide-eyed at one another: “Can you believe it? Zacchaeus has become a follower of the Master. Yes, that Zacchaeus…." and then whooping aloud, and looping the loop!!
Jesus came to reconcile people like Zacchaeus, and people like us, to God. And, yes, he knows exactly what we’re like, better than we know ourselves. And yet, still he reaches out in love to us, inviting a personal response!
We don’t hear about Zacchaeus again. We’ve got no idea what became of him. But I’m pretty certain that he spent the rest of his life telling other people about God’s love for him…and the day that Jesus came to town!
Monday, January 14, 2008
Music that inspires - 2
Driving in the Highlands of Scotland moves me intensely. I remember one occasion, driving along a road with mountains rearing up on either side. The cassette player was blaring out a selection of Scottish airs through the wide-open windows....and I was in seventh heaven!
The next time I go to Scotland I will be playing the piece that follows - Ashokan farewell. It's got a really Celtic feel, and was featured on a Scottish TV production (sorry about the voiceover right at the end)...but it was actually composed by the American, Jay Ungar, who introduces it, and it is most remembered 'over the Pond' for being the theme tune for an American drama series about the civil war!
I've been listening to it regularly for a number of months, now, and I still love it. See what you think:
The next time I go to Scotland I will be playing the piece that follows - Ashokan farewell. It's got a really Celtic feel, and was featured on a Scottish TV production (sorry about the voiceover right at the end)...but it was actually composed by the American, Jay Ungar, who introduces it, and it is most remembered 'over the Pond' for being the theme tune for an American drama series about the civil war!
I've been listening to it regularly for a number of months, now, and I still love it. See what you think:
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Waiting room days
An amazingly emotional day today as I baptized David, Pauline & Jessica in a service involving both joyful celebration and deep consecration.
I've just got time to share some words of Wes Seeliger that I read earlier before going to bed:
'I have spent long hours in the intensive care waiting room watching with anguished people, listening to urgent questions: Will my husband make it? Will my child walk again? How do you live without your companion of thirty years?
The intensive care waiting room is different from any other place in the world. And the people who wait are diffferent. They can't do enough for each other. No one is rude. The distinctions of race and class melt away. The garbage man loves his wife as much as the university professor loves his, and everyone understands this. Each person pulls for everyone else.
In the intensive care waiting room, the world changes. Vanity and pretense vanish. The universe is focused on the doctor's next report. If only it will show improvement. Everyone knows that loving someone else is what life is all about.
Could we learn to love like that if we realised that every day of life is a day in the waiting room?'
I've just got time to share some words of Wes Seeliger that I read earlier before going to bed:
'I have spent long hours in the intensive care waiting room watching with anguished people, listening to urgent questions: Will my husband make it? Will my child walk again? How do you live without your companion of thirty years?
The intensive care waiting room is different from any other place in the world. And the people who wait are diffferent. They can't do enough for each other. No one is rude. The distinctions of race and class melt away. The garbage man loves his wife as much as the university professor loves his, and everyone understands this. Each person pulls for everyone else.
In the intensive care waiting room, the world changes. Vanity and pretense vanish. The universe is focused on the doctor's next report. If only it will show improvement. Everyone knows that loving someone else is what life is all about.
Could we learn to love like that if we realised that every day of life is a day in the waiting room?'
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Sensual Intelligence - 1: Your Eyes
Leonardo da Vinci noted, with some melancholy, that the average human 'looks without seeing, listens without hearing, touches without feeling, eats without tasting, moves without physical awareness, inhales without awareness of odour or fragrance, and talks without thinking.'
I always used to turn my nose up at self-help books but, recently, I've come to realise that there is some gold amongst the dross. The above quote is taken from Tony Buzan's book, Head First, which I picked up for 99p at our local Age Concern charity shop. It begins a fascinating chapter about recognising and developing our sensual intelligence which I'll gradually work through here.
The first of the senses considered is our eyes. Consider:
- Your retina, the light-receiving surface at the back of your eye, is only slightly thicker than a razor blade, yet contains 130,000,000 photoreceptor (light receiving) cells.
- Of these 130,000,000 cells, a mere 6,000,000 of them, called the cones, handle all colour vision.
- These 6,000,000 cones can process and distinguish 8,000,000 different shades of colour.
- The remaining 124,000,000 photo-receptors are called rods. They are so sensitive that they can detect and distinguish a single proton of light.
- At night the 124,000,000 rods, in order to help you survive in the dark, can increase their sensitivity 75,000 times.
- Every second billions of photons of light strike your retina. This is the equivalent of about 100 megabytes of information per second!
Wow - I don't want to waste all of this potential. Buzan suggests that we give our eyes regular visual feasts. I think I will try the da Vinci training exercise:
'To sharpen his eyes and focus, Leonardo placed a complex object, like a bowl of flowers, in front of him, tried to memorize it, and then closed his eyes. With his eyes closed he tried to revisualize the object. Leonardo would then open his eyes and compare the memory with the real vision. He then looked even more closely, correcting his memory, and once again closed his eyes and revisualized the scene. He kept on doing this until he could hardly tell the difference between the vision he saw with his open eyes and the vision he saw with his mind's memory. Try it! It sharpens both your external and internal vision.'
When I took advantage of the glorious sunshine this afternoon to spend a few hours over Ampthill Park, I tried to look and see. It really does make you realise how much you miss when you don't!
Wildlife Sightings:
I was pleased with the following 35 species of birds for this time of year, noted down in the order they were seen (notable absences were song thrush & buzzard):
Robin; blackbird; goldcrest; nuthatch; magpie; starling; blue tit; wood pigeon; carrion crow; wren; coal tit; chaffinch; great tit; pied wagtail; dunnock; herring gull; rook; jay; lesser redpoll (4); jackdaw; collared dove; long-tailed tit; goldfinch; great spotted woodpecker; bullfinch (1 male & 3 female); kestrel; siskin (small flock); stock dove; redwing; fieldfare; moorhen; black-headed gull; mistle thrush; treecreeper (call); green woodpecker.
Mammals: female muntjac running across the path in front of me, closely followed by a cocker spaniel! Another female muntjac in 'Bunker Field'; common shrew under refuge.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Our eldest son, Mark, passed his driving test yesterday. I came home from some visitation to find the Pass Certificate lying on my computer keyboard. I was so excited, shouting out with joy. I rang Carole, and she was really excited, too. We added him to the car insurance today....that brought us down to earth, though Mark's determined to pay for it himself!
I remember the days when Mark and I spent many hours in the countryside as I taught him all about the various plants and wildlife. He's into his music now, and vows that he's lost interest in all things wild...but I reckon the spark will be reignited sometime in the future!
Robert Byron was a British travel writer who died when the ship he was travelling on was torpedoed by a Nazi U-Boat in February 1941. Interestingly, he had attended the last Nuremburg Rally in 1938 and was outspoken in his criticism of the Nazis. Today, a friend sent me the following words which Byron wrote, bringing back fond memories of those days with Mark and my other sons, John & Matt. It's a beautiful piece, and it's all the more moving when you learn that Byron died unmarried and childless.....
If I have a son, he shall salute the lords and ladies who unfurl green hoods to the March rains, and shall know them afterwards by their scarlet fruit. He shall know the celandine, and the frigid, sightless flowers of the woods, spurge and spurge laurel, dogs' mercury, wood-sorrel and queer four-leaved herb-paris fit to trim a bonnet with its purple dot. He shall see the marshes gold with flags and kingcups and find shepherd's purse on a slag-heap. He shall know the tree-flowers, scented lime-tassels, blood-pink larch-tufts, white strands of the Spanish chestnut and tattered oak-plumes. He shall know orchids, mauve-winged bees and claret-coloured flies climbing up from mottled leaves. He shall see June red and white with ragged robin and cow parsley and the two campions. He shall tell a dandelion from sow thistle or goat's beard. He shall know the field flowers, lady's bedstraw and lady's slipper, purple mallow, blue chicory and the cranesbills - dusky, bloody, and blue as heaven. In the cool summer wind he shall listen to the rattle of harebells against the whistle of a distant train, shall watch clover blush and scabious nod, pinch the ample veitches, and savour the virgin turf. He shall know grasses, timothy and wag-wanton, and dust his finger-tips in Yorkshire fog. By the river he shall know pink willow-herb and purple spikes of loosestrife, and the sweetshop smell of water-mint where the rat dives silently from its hole. He shall know the velvet leaves and yellow spike of the old dowager, mullein, recognise the whole company of thistles, and greet the relatives of the nettle, wound-wort and hore-hound, yellow rattle, betony, bugle and archangel. In autumn, he shall know the hedge lanterns, hips and haws and bryony. At Christmas he shall climb an old apple-tree for mistletoe, and know whom to kiss and how.
He shall know the butterflies that suck the brambles, common whites and marbled white, orange-tip, brimstone, and the carnivorous clouded yellows. He shall watch fritillaries, pearl-bordered and silver-washed, flit like fireballs across the sunlit rides. He shall see that family of capitalists, peacock, painted lady, red admiral and the tortoiseshells, uncurl their trunks to suck blood from bruised plums, while the purple emperor and white admiral glut themselves on the bowels of a rabbit. He shall know the jagged comma, printed with a white c, the manx-tailed iridescent hair-streaks, and the skippers demure as charwomen on Monday morning. He shall run to the glint of silver on a chalk-hill blue - glint of a breeze on water beneath an open sky - and shall follow the brown explorers, meadow brown, brown argus, speckled wood and ringlet. He shall see death and revolution in the burnet moth, black and red, crawling from a house of yellow talc tied half-way up a tall grass. He shall know more rational moths, who like the night, the gaudy tigers, cream-spot and scarlet, and the red and yellow underwings. He shall hear the humming-bird hawk moth arrive like an air-raid on the garden at dusk, and know the other hawks, pink sleek-bodied elephant, poplar, lime, and death's head. He shall count the pinions of the plume moths, and find the large emerald waiting in the rain-dewed grass.
All these I learnt when I was a child and each recalls a place or occasion that might otherwise be lost. They were my own discoveries. They taught me to look at the world with my own eyes and with attention. They gave me a first content with the universe. Town-dwellers lack this intimate content, but my son shall have it!
I remember the days when Mark and I spent many hours in the countryside as I taught him all about the various plants and wildlife. He's into his music now, and vows that he's lost interest in all things wild...but I reckon the spark will be reignited sometime in the future!
Robert Byron was a British travel writer who died when the ship he was travelling on was torpedoed by a Nazi U-Boat in February 1941. Interestingly, he had attended the last Nuremburg Rally in 1938 and was outspoken in his criticism of the Nazis. Today, a friend sent me the following words which Byron wrote, bringing back fond memories of those days with Mark and my other sons, John & Matt. It's a beautiful piece, and it's all the more moving when you learn that Byron died unmarried and childless.....
If I have a son, he shall salute the lords and ladies who unfurl green hoods to the March rains, and shall know them afterwards by their scarlet fruit. He shall know the celandine, and the frigid, sightless flowers of the woods, spurge and spurge laurel, dogs' mercury, wood-sorrel and queer four-leaved herb-paris fit to trim a bonnet with its purple dot. He shall see the marshes gold with flags and kingcups and find shepherd's purse on a slag-heap. He shall know the tree-flowers, scented lime-tassels, blood-pink larch-tufts, white strands of the Spanish chestnut and tattered oak-plumes. He shall know orchids, mauve-winged bees and claret-coloured flies climbing up from mottled leaves. He shall see June red and white with ragged robin and cow parsley and the two campions. He shall tell a dandelion from sow thistle or goat's beard. He shall know the field flowers, lady's bedstraw and lady's slipper, purple mallow, blue chicory and the cranesbills - dusky, bloody, and blue as heaven. In the cool summer wind he shall listen to the rattle of harebells against the whistle of a distant train, shall watch clover blush and scabious nod, pinch the ample veitches, and savour the virgin turf. He shall know grasses, timothy and wag-wanton, and dust his finger-tips in Yorkshire fog. By the river he shall know pink willow-herb and purple spikes of loosestrife, and the sweetshop smell of water-mint where the rat dives silently from its hole. He shall know the velvet leaves and yellow spike of the old dowager, mullein, recognise the whole company of thistles, and greet the relatives of the nettle, wound-wort and hore-hound, yellow rattle, betony, bugle and archangel. In autumn, he shall know the hedge lanterns, hips and haws and bryony. At Christmas he shall climb an old apple-tree for mistletoe, and know whom to kiss and how.
He shall know the butterflies that suck the brambles, common whites and marbled white, orange-tip, brimstone, and the carnivorous clouded yellows. He shall watch fritillaries, pearl-bordered and silver-washed, flit like fireballs across the sunlit rides. He shall see that family of capitalists, peacock, painted lady, red admiral and the tortoiseshells, uncurl their trunks to suck blood from bruised plums, while the purple emperor and white admiral glut themselves on the bowels of a rabbit. He shall know the jagged comma, printed with a white c, the manx-tailed iridescent hair-streaks, and the skippers demure as charwomen on Monday morning. He shall run to the glint of silver on a chalk-hill blue - glint of a breeze on water beneath an open sky - and shall follow the brown explorers, meadow brown, brown argus, speckled wood and ringlet. He shall see death and revolution in the burnet moth, black and red, crawling from a house of yellow talc tied half-way up a tall grass. He shall know more rational moths, who like the night, the gaudy tigers, cream-spot and scarlet, and the red and yellow underwings. He shall hear the humming-bird hawk moth arrive like an air-raid on the garden at dusk, and know the other hawks, pink sleek-bodied elephant, poplar, lime, and death's head. He shall count the pinions of the plume moths, and find the large emerald waiting in the rain-dewed grass.
All these I learnt when I was a child and each recalls a place or occasion that might otherwise be lost. They were my own discoveries. They taught me to look at the world with my own eyes and with attention. They gave me a first content with the universe. Town-dwellers lack this intimate content, but my son shall have it!
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Grasping the nettle
From my notes:
Bishop Abel Muzorewa tells of a critical period in his life when he had been asked by his people to lead the African National Council. He knew that all the previous leaders in Rhodesia who had criticized government policies as unjust to black Rhodesians had been either deported from the country, put in a restricted camp, or killed. He struggled with his decision, and prayed as he had never prayed before. He did not want to be killed, deported, or placed in a restricted camp, yet his people were calling him to lead them. As he struggled with his decision, a friend handed him this poem:
What do you think he did?
What will you do?
Bishop Abel Muzorewa tells of a critical period in his life when he had been asked by his people to lead the African National Council. He knew that all the previous leaders in Rhodesia who had criticized government policies as unjust to black Rhodesians had been either deported from the country, put in a restricted camp, or killed. He struggled with his decision, and prayed as he had never prayed before. He did not want to be killed, deported, or placed in a restricted camp, yet his people were calling him to lead them. As he struggled with his decision, a friend handed him this poem:
People are unreasonable, illogical, and self-centred – love them anyway!
If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives – do good anyway!
If you are successful you will win false friends and true enemies – succeed anyway!
The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow – do good anyway!
Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable – be honest and frank anyway!
The biggest people with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest people with the smallest minds – think big anyway!
People favour underdogs but follow only top dogs – fight for some underdog anyway!
What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight – build anyway!
People really need help but may attack you if you help them – help people anyway!
Give the world the best you’ve got and you’ll get kicked in the teeth – give the world the best you’ve got anyway!
If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish ulterior motives – do good anyway!
If you are successful you will win false friends and true enemies – succeed anyway!
The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow – do good anyway!
Honesty and frankness make you vulnerable – be honest and frank anyway!
The biggest people with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest people with the smallest minds – think big anyway!
People favour underdogs but follow only top dogs – fight for some underdog anyway!
What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight – build anyway!
People really need help but may attack you if you help them – help people anyway!
Give the world the best you’ve got and you’ll get kicked in the teeth – give the world the best you’ve got anyway!
What do you think he did?
What will you do?
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