Be merciful to me, LORD, for I am in distress;
my eyes grow weak with sorrow,
my soul and body with grief.
Psalm 31:9
You, just like me, have been there. That moment when it pulls strongly at your heart, threatening to eat you up from the inside. It’s “the urge”, that strong desire to go ahead and talk to that stranger sitting next to you. You remember when it happened most recently? I remember most vividly. But you, just like me, resisted and resisted until the moment was lost. And as you parted ways you wondered, what if I had opened my mouth? What if I hadn’t kept so quiet. Might someone’s life be different?
It happened to me today. I was at the train station, clad from head to toe against the bitter wind as it howled through the trees bringing in the cold and rain. The minutes ticked away as I waited for my transport. A young man walked up towards me, squinting as he tried to read the words on the message board. “When’s the next train?” he ventured. “Four minutes”, my curt reply. “Thanks”, he said, and sauntered over to a nearby bench. And then that nagging feeling crept up. I already had the opening, he had broken the ice; all I had to do was strike up a conversation. Well, just as always, I resisted, that is until God stepped in and pulled a “Jonah” on me.
“Hey bruv, you work around here?” It was the young man again. I turned to answer and looked him over. A tall, handsome, Indian man, perhaps my age. I took the chance and engaged him in light conversation. “I work in a sexual health office” I said. He uttered a few choice expletives in response, laughed and said, “so you can help me then!”
As we clambered onto the train and took our places I got to learn that his wife had kicked him out of the house some three months back and he was staying at a friends’. About two years ago she had begun seeing a wealthier man and the marriage had broken down. When I asked him if he had hopes of reconciliation he just shook his head, sadly. It was too far gone.
“I don’t know where it all went wrong,” he said. “We were in love when we got married; it was not arranged.” It was easy to see the hurt he felt because of her betrayal. I could tell he still loved her but there was very little hope in his voice. We gradually went on to talk about more trivial matters and when we felt comfortable enough we exchanged numbers. After that an uneasy silence fell over us as the miles rushed by.
“Doosuur, say something,” it was the little voice in my head. “Grab the opportunity before the moment passes.” This time I was somewhat more willing (the hard work had already been done, no?) and I gently asked, “do you believe in prayer?”
“Yes, indeed, I do. I pray every morning.”
“Good”, I returned, “you ask God to take care of you through the day...?”
“No,” he answered, “I just thank God, I just thank God for another...” and his voice trailed off as he buried his face in his hands, sobbing, and turned towards the window. In my short encounter with this young man I had been offered a rare glimpse into the hurt and pain that fills his soul. It was so much that he did not even have the courage to ask God for anything. The love of his life had left him for another man and he was sad, alone and sorely betrayed.
“It’ll be okay,” was all I could offer. “I will pray for you.”
As my stop rolled by I offered to meet up with him for drinks at some other time and we shook hands and parted. But those tears ... those tears! ... they tore at my heart.
Please join me and pray for this sad soul. God knows his name.
With love, Doosuur.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
On the Train to... Nowhere
To man belong the plans of the heart, but from the LORD comes the reply of the tongue.
Proverbs 16:1
Right now, even as I type these words, I’m on a train headed to a town I’ve never heard about, a distance I know nothing of and I’m too afraid to even look at my watch because I know that it is creeping up on 11 p.m. I do not know how or when I’ll get home tonight and with every parting second my distress increases. Yes, you guessed it, I’m on the wrong train.
“However did you get in this quandary?”, you ask. Well, I could tell you but right now I’d rather just forget it. You see, a series of rather unfortunate turns have contrived to put me in my position, at each point my decision seemed pretty innocuous but together they have landed me in a rather spectacular mess.
I came out of Church after a particularly invigorating service and a good meal afterwards and turned right rather than left as I’d much rather talk a few more minutes with a friend I had just met tonight. Then I skipped the first bus so I could take the second. Then I stopped at a train station because I assumed the underground would be faster - only to find out that the underground is closed on weekends. So I took the replacement bus service which took me everywhere I did not want to go, eventually dropping me off at a halfway point. By now my frustration was nearing boiling point but I walked into the train station, asked directions from an attendant and ended up standing in the bitter cold on platform 10, waiting for the next train to come along.
When eventually it did come, I hopped on board without a second thought and plopped down in the closest seat, but even as the doors slowly crept shut I turned around to discover that most of my fellow stragglers had remained behind, apparently waiting for the next train. “Where is this train headed?”, I asked as it slowly pulled away, but even as someone opened his mouth to speak I knew I would not like whatever he had to tell me.
There are a privileged few people in this world who start off their journeys with a pretty good idea of where they want to be and actually end up there. Often they are those who have sacrificed their money, time and so much else in the pursuit of a golden dream - the Tiger Woods’ who have played with golf clubs from birth or the Michael Jordans whose love for “the game” supersedes all. And then there’s the rest of us - people like you and me whose plans are really just desires, whose desires are wishes and whose wishes are mere fantasies.
Perhaps for you, as for me, a decade, or perhaps even a year ago you had different dreams, aspirations and targets but one turn after the other, one decision piled onto the next, you found yourself heading in a totally different direction. If you are fortunate it will not be an unpleasant destination, but it is often very different. We discover that things very rarely end up exactly as we planned them and the blueprint keeps changing. This uncertainty can be quite discomfiting if we let it get to us but is it not a great comfort to know that even when things don’t go according to our plan they are indeed going according to a plan - His plan?
You see, although we often do not stop long enough to realize it, our lives are carefully and intricately woven and interconnected with everyone else’s and there’s only one Grand Plan in action - God’s plan. So long as we live life on God’s terms and in submission to His will we can live with the peace and confidence that regardless of what happens to us God is never surprised. With Him there are no coincidences. Where we see wrong turns, God sees opportunity; where we see frustration He encourages us to take up the challenge, to step up to the plate. And we can do so with full confidence that He knows tomorrow - after all He wrote it Himself, before time began.
And if you must know, I did find out where I’m headed after all. Shenfield...
With love, Doosuur.
Proverbs 16:1
Right now, even as I type these words, I’m on a train headed to a town I’ve never heard about, a distance I know nothing of and I’m too afraid to even look at my watch because I know that it is creeping up on 11 p.m. I do not know how or when I’ll get home tonight and with every parting second my distress increases. Yes, you guessed it, I’m on the wrong train.
“However did you get in this quandary?”, you ask. Well, I could tell you but right now I’d rather just forget it. You see, a series of rather unfortunate turns have contrived to put me in my position, at each point my decision seemed pretty innocuous but together they have landed me in a rather spectacular mess.
I came out of Church after a particularly invigorating service and a good meal afterwards and turned right rather than left as I’d much rather talk a few more minutes with a friend I had just met tonight. Then I skipped the first bus so I could take the second. Then I stopped at a train station because I assumed the underground would be faster - only to find out that the underground is closed on weekends. So I took the replacement bus service which took me everywhere I did not want to go, eventually dropping me off at a halfway point. By now my frustration was nearing boiling point but I walked into the train station, asked directions from an attendant and ended up standing in the bitter cold on platform 10, waiting for the next train to come along.
When eventually it did come, I hopped on board without a second thought and plopped down in the closest seat, but even as the doors slowly crept shut I turned around to discover that most of my fellow stragglers had remained behind, apparently waiting for the next train. “Where is this train headed?”, I asked as it slowly pulled away, but even as someone opened his mouth to speak I knew I would not like whatever he had to tell me.
There are a privileged few people in this world who start off their journeys with a pretty good idea of where they want to be and actually end up there. Often they are those who have sacrificed their money, time and so much else in the pursuit of a golden dream - the Tiger Woods’ who have played with golf clubs from birth or the Michael Jordans whose love for “the game” supersedes all. And then there’s the rest of us - people like you and me whose plans are really just desires, whose desires are wishes and whose wishes are mere fantasies.
Perhaps for you, as for me, a decade, or perhaps even a year ago you had different dreams, aspirations and targets but one turn after the other, one decision piled onto the next, you found yourself heading in a totally different direction. If you are fortunate it will not be an unpleasant destination, but it is often very different. We discover that things very rarely end up exactly as we planned them and the blueprint keeps changing. This uncertainty can be quite discomfiting if we let it get to us but is it not a great comfort to know that even when things don’t go according to our plan they are indeed going according to a plan - His plan?
You see, although we often do not stop long enough to realize it, our lives are carefully and intricately woven and interconnected with everyone else’s and there’s only one Grand Plan in action - God’s plan. So long as we live life on God’s terms and in submission to His will we can live with the peace and confidence that regardless of what happens to us God is never surprised. With Him there are no coincidences. Where we see wrong turns, God sees opportunity; where we see frustration He encourages us to take up the challenge, to step up to the plate. And we can do so with full confidence that He knows tomorrow - after all He wrote it Himself, before time began.
And if you must know, I did find out where I’m headed after all. Shenfield...
With love, Doosuur.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
A Little Piece of Bubble Wrap
However many years a man may live, let him enjoy them all. But let him remember the days of darkness, for they will be many. Everything to come is meaningless.
Ecclesiastes 11:8
I ran into the bus, hands in my pockets as I huddled against the cold October wind and I quickly settled into a seat for the ride home. As I rested my head against the window and closed my eyes I heard a popping sound. I looked up to see a middle-aged lady, with a piece of bubble wrap in her hand. She had a smug smile and a twinkle in her eye as she gayly burst the little bubbles one after the other. “Pop, pop, pop...” they went, keeping time to the seconds as they passed and it was easy to see that she was enjoying her little diversion immensely. Good for her, I thought, as I mentally recounted the pleasure I myself have derived countless times over from flattening out yards of bubble wrap.
As the bus trudged along I got caught up in a reverie as I listened absently to the creaking of the old bus and thought about that strange electronic female voice that follows us around, calling out the bus stops. I closed my eyes again as my mind momentarily recalled the movie Eagle Eye and from there, like it so often does, wandered to a hundred-and-one other minute and insignificant thoughts until something caught my attention, bringing me back to reality. It had stopped. I strained my ears to listen but I could not hear it. The popping had stopped. Whatever had happened to bubble-wrap lady?
As I opened my eyes tentatively I saw the woman, turning over the sheet of plastic and running her finger, ever so carefully over the rows of little bubbles, looking for one more elusive air cushion. Unfortunately for her there was none to be found; all the bubbles were gone. She rolled it up into a ball, folded her arms, heaved a sigh and stared forlornly out of the window. The whole gesture suggested one thing: “Now what?” She had exhausted her daily allocation of bubble-bursting pleasure and there was left for her only a flat and wasted piece of plastic and the silence.
My mind wandered again as I thought about how our lives are like that piece of bubble wrap. We squeeze out pleasure every way we know how and as often as we can in an attempt to feel fulfilled and to give ourselves a sense of worth. But with everything that we do there is ultimately a “now what?” moment where we realize that it’s all done and dusted. When we reach that climax do we have a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment or a sense that all the pleasure’s done with and there’s nothing to show for it. And so I determine that I will savor every moment that I can on this earth with a view to the ultimate “now what” when all we’ve done will be shown for what it’s worth. And perhaps when I’m done with my little bit of bubble wrap the bus would have arrived at my destination. Home.
With love, Doosuur.
Ecclesiastes 11:8
I ran into the bus, hands in my pockets as I huddled against the cold October wind and I quickly settled into a seat for the ride home. As I rested my head against the window and closed my eyes I heard a popping sound. I looked up to see a middle-aged lady, with a piece of bubble wrap in her hand. She had a smug smile and a twinkle in her eye as she gayly burst the little bubbles one after the other. “Pop, pop, pop...” they went, keeping time to the seconds as they passed and it was easy to see that she was enjoying her little diversion immensely. Good for her, I thought, as I mentally recounted the pleasure I myself have derived countless times over from flattening out yards of bubble wrap.
As the bus trudged along I got caught up in a reverie as I listened absently to the creaking of the old bus and thought about that strange electronic female voice that follows us around, calling out the bus stops. I closed my eyes again as my mind momentarily recalled the movie Eagle Eye and from there, like it so often does, wandered to a hundred-and-one other minute and insignificant thoughts until something caught my attention, bringing me back to reality. It had stopped. I strained my ears to listen but I could not hear it. The popping had stopped. Whatever had happened to bubble-wrap lady?
As I opened my eyes tentatively I saw the woman, turning over the sheet of plastic and running her finger, ever so carefully over the rows of little bubbles, looking for one more elusive air cushion. Unfortunately for her there was none to be found; all the bubbles were gone. She rolled it up into a ball, folded her arms, heaved a sigh and stared forlornly out of the window. The whole gesture suggested one thing: “Now what?” She had exhausted her daily allocation of bubble-bursting pleasure and there was left for her only a flat and wasted piece of plastic and the silence.
My mind wandered again as I thought about how our lives are like that piece of bubble wrap. We squeeze out pleasure every way we know how and as often as we can in an attempt to feel fulfilled and to give ourselves a sense of worth. But with everything that we do there is ultimately a “now what?” moment where we realize that it’s all done and dusted. When we reach that climax do we have a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment or a sense that all the pleasure’s done with and there’s nothing to show for it. And so I determine that I will savor every moment that I can on this earth with a view to the ultimate “now what” when all we’ve done will be shown for what it’s worth. And perhaps when I’m done with my little bit of bubble wrap the bus would have arrived at my destination. Home.
With love, Doosuur.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
He Lit a Cigarette!
What may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. For since the creation of the world God's invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.
Romans 1:19,20
He lit a cigarette! He actually stepped out of church, pulled a stick out of his pocket and put it to his mouth, the end glowing in the dim light of dusk.
His name is Michele (pronounced ‘k’ and not ‘sh’) and I met him this evening. An Italian with dark hair and fine looks, his ready smile and requisite lilting accent reminded me so much of Friends’ Joey Tribbiani that I had to suppress a chuckle. We were in Church for a weekly Bible study and happened to sit at the same table. As we interacted after the session I learned that he was indeed a Catholic and was attending only his second Bible study ever. As expected, we had different views over certain matters but I could see that God was working a wonder in the heart of this young man.
He had not always believed in God. Having been born into a religious family he rebelled early on and went his own way. He had comforted himself in philosophy and agnostic thought, not wanting to confront the reality of God that was always gnawing at his spirit, demanding a response. But thankfully he had come to that point in his life where he had to face up to that most important question: “What if there is a God?” The logic taught by Pasquale (follow the link below to read about it*) seemed to have helped him make up his mind - “If there’s no God and I have believed, I lose next to nothing; If there is a God and I have not believed, I lose ... everything.”
Finally Mike made the choice to believe and it changed everything. As we spoke it was so easy to see the joy and peace that is his today and the love he has for God and His word. He is obviously well read, spending time in Luther and Calvin as he tried grappled with the issues brought up by the protestant reformation and the implications for his own faith. “There are few real atheists,” he said to me. “Most people actually do not know if there is a God - they are agnostic. They are afraid of confronting the possibility because then they will have to make an uncomfortable decision. Very few will say with conviction that there is no God.”
Recently I have been burdened by the way people have rejected the thought of God as though the very idea was a primitive concept. As I talked with a friend a couple of nights back it was sad to see the burden she carries for her friends and classmates who utterly refuse to consider the truth of God’s existence. “They will not even accept that there is a God,” she cried, “how in the world will we even get to talk about Jesus?” I do not know how it will end for all these people who burden us. But one thing that gladdens my heart is that people are coming to God. I have seen it very recently in the most vivid ways that God is still in the business of changing lives.
As we walked to the tube station Michele turned to me and gestured with his cigarette. “This is a big sin for you, isn’t it?” I truly did not expect the question but at that moment I knew that all my prejudices were not important. What matters most to God is that souls are saved. He does demand total surrender but we are all in the process aren’t we?
He finally put out the light but as we turned to go underground we heard someone yelling and running after us. We turned to see a beautiful young lady in stilettos running our way as though the hordes of hell were in hot pursuit. “Please help me,” she screamed, “I’m desparate!” We waited for her to reach us and as she stopped she pulled out a stick. “Please do you have a light?”
With love, Doosuur.
*I take no responsibility for the content of this webpage and cannot guarantee that it will remain appropriate. http://article.nationalreview.com/?q=MDc1MjI4MjkwMzBhZWJmZTU2ZjBhY2JlMTQyODUwZDQ=
Romans 1:19,20
He lit a cigarette! He actually stepped out of church, pulled a stick out of his pocket and put it to his mouth, the end glowing in the dim light of dusk.
His name is Michele (pronounced ‘k’ and not ‘sh’) and I met him this evening. An Italian with dark hair and fine looks, his ready smile and requisite lilting accent reminded me so much of Friends’ Joey Tribbiani that I had to suppress a chuckle. We were in Church for a weekly Bible study and happened to sit at the same table. As we interacted after the session I learned that he was indeed a Catholic and was attending only his second Bible study ever. As expected, we had different views over certain matters but I could see that God was working a wonder in the heart of this young man.
He had not always believed in God. Having been born into a religious family he rebelled early on and went his own way. He had comforted himself in philosophy and agnostic thought, not wanting to confront the reality of God that was always gnawing at his spirit, demanding a response. But thankfully he had come to that point in his life where he had to face up to that most important question: “What if there is a God?” The logic taught by Pasquale (follow the link below to read about it*) seemed to have helped him make up his mind - “If there’s no God and I have believed, I lose next to nothing; If there is a God and I have not believed, I lose ... everything.”
Finally Mike made the choice to believe and it changed everything. As we spoke it was so easy to see the joy and peace that is his today and the love he has for God and His word. He is obviously well read, spending time in Luther and Calvin as he tried grappled with the issues brought up by the protestant reformation and the implications for his own faith. “There are few real atheists,” he said to me. “Most people actually do not know if there is a God - they are agnostic. They are afraid of confronting the possibility because then they will have to make an uncomfortable decision. Very few will say with conviction that there is no God.”
Recently I have been burdened by the way people have rejected the thought of God as though the very idea was a primitive concept. As I talked with a friend a couple of nights back it was sad to see the burden she carries for her friends and classmates who utterly refuse to consider the truth of God’s existence. “They will not even accept that there is a God,” she cried, “how in the world will we even get to talk about Jesus?” I do not know how it will end for all these people who burden us. But one thing that gladdens my heart is that people are coming to God. I have seen it very recently in the most vivid ways that God is still in the business of changing lives.
As we walked to the tube station Michele turned to me and gestured with his cigarette. “This is a big sin for you, isn’t it?” I truly did not expect the question but at that moment I knew that all my prejudices were not important. What matters most to God is that souls are saved. He does demand total surrender but we are all in the process aren’t we?
He finally put out the light but as we turned to go underground we heard someone yelling and running after us. We turned to see a beautiful young lady in stilettos running our way as though the hordes of hell were in hot pursuit. “Please help me,” she screamed, “I’m desparate!” We waited for her to reach us and as she stopped she pulled out a stick. “Please do you have a light?”
With love, Doosuur.
*I take no responsibility for the content of this webpage and cannot guarantee that it will remain appropriate. http://article.nationalreview.com/?q=MDc1MjI4MjkwMzBhZWJmZTU2ZjBhY2JlMTQyODUwZDQ=
Monday, June 22, 2009
The New Guy
Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.
Hebrews 13:2
I had such a sense of anticipation as I prepared to go to St. Helen’s today. A missionary couple had invited me there for a first service to have a look-see and assured me I would find a warm welcome. But a couple of wrong turns contrived to make me twenty minutes late and when I arrived at the west door the service was already in full swing. I dutifully silenced my mobile and stepped through the swinging doors and voila I was inside.
Inside there were 200 hundred faces, staring intently at the preacher but, to my horror, every single one of them was white. “Uh-oh!” I thought, as I slinked my way up to a chair and slid in, hopefully unnoticed. “This is going to be a long night.” As I looked around I saw another black couple, themselves sitting in a far-off corner, looking as conspicuous as I was but they provided no relief for me as they skedaddled before the service would end.
All at once my sympathies went to everyone who’s ever been the new guy. Nobody likes to stand out in the crowd – except, of course as a hero or something – and I immediately felt the sense of desperation that they all must feel. How many johnny-come-latelies (JJCs) had I overlooked in my short experience? Oh, how I wish I was a little more welcoming to them. Payback’s a bummer.
After The Blessing I hung around the foyer, looking for an opportunity to say hi to someone but they all seemed so into themselves and no-one noticed me at all. We were invited for an after-Church informal around hot dogs and tomato soup but every bone in my body begged me to make a run for it. I was none too comfortable with the two-day growth of stubble on my beard either, but I grit my teeth and made a beeline for the food. As I stood in the queue, feeling sorry for myself, along came Richard. “Hello, have I seen you here before?” Thank God for Richard!
With love, Doosuur.
Hebrews 13:2
I had such a sense of anticipation as I prepared to go to St. Helen’s today. A missionary couple had invited me there for a first service to have a look-see and assured me I would find a warm welcome. But a couple of wrong turns contrived to make me twenty minutes late and when I arrived at the west door the service was already in full swing. I dutifully silenced my mobile and stepped through the swinging doors and voila I was inside.
Inside there were 200 hundred faces, staring intently at the preacher but, to my horror, every single one of them was white. “Uh-oh!” I thought, as I slinked my way up to a chair and slid in, hopefully unnoticed. “This is going to be a long night.” As I looked around I saw another black couple, themselves sitting in a far-off corner, looking as conspicuous as I was but they provided no relief for me as they skedaddled before the service would end.
All at once my sympathies went to everyone who’s ever been the new guy. Nobody likes to stand out in the crowd – except, of course as a hero or something – and I immediately felt the sense of desperation that they all must feel. How many johnny-come-latelies (JJCs) had I overlooked in my short experience? Oh, how I wish I was a little more welcoming to them. Payback’s a bummer.
After The Blessing I hung around the foyer, looking for an opportunity to say hi to someone but they all seemed so into themselves and no-one noticed me at all. We were invited for an after-Church informal around hot dogs and tomato soup but every bone in my body begged me to make a run for it. I was none too comfortable with the two-day growth of stubble on my beard either, but I grit my teeth and made a beeline for the food. As I stood in the queue, feeling sorry for myself, along came Richard. “Hello, have I seen you here before?” Thank God for Richard!
With love, Doosuur.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Eyes On The Ball
Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed...
Hebrews 12:2 (The Message)
The first rule of tennis, or indeed any ball game is simple. Keep your eyes on the ball. It seems straightforward enough but you’d be surprised how often a novice like me must remind myself, sometimes quite audibly, “keep your eyes on the ball.”
Today was no different. As usual, I changed into my tennis gear and began my warmup routine muttering to myself that most important mantra. As I got into the groove I went from Rule 1 to Rule 2: Move your feet. The other basic rules soon followed:
Take a backswing
Follow through
And very quickly, everything was flowing smoothly. One particular backhand drive made me feel like the new Federer come to town.
But then, almost as quickly as it had begun, it all started coming apart at the seams. I started hitting awry balls and ambitious drives became home runs as they rose over and beyond the confines of the premises. All of a sudden it seemed I just could not get it right. The more I tried the worse it became. What’s wrong? I wondered. And then it hit me. I stopped, took a breath and whispered to myself, “Doosuur, keep your eyes on the ball.” And then I started again. At the beginning.
But then it’s not just on the tennis court that I find I have to remind myself of the most important truth. It all starts well enough, in the morning, as I open God’s word and turn my eyes on Jesus. But then as the day drags on, it’s so easy for me, as I’m sure you, to get so caught up in the hustle and bustle that we neglect where our focus should be. We become so engrossed in meeting up with the demands of everyday life - pleasing a demanding boss, meeting an unexpected deadline, coping with a testy client - that all of a sudden the freshness and joy of a beautiful morning fades away.
And then if we are not careful we find ourselves hitting balls askew as we slowly lose control. We let our guard slip - a careless word here, a thoughtless gesture there - and very soon we’re headed down the slippery slope with no end in sight.
How apt it was of the writer to the Hebrews to command them, “fix your eyes on Jesus...” (NIV). He does not just say “look at Jesus”. He says, fix your eyes on Him. This is much more than a casual glance. It requires one to be involved in, immersed in, the object of their attention. Consider now, what it would mean for you if you were to really fix your eyes on Jesus. If I may use an analogy, it would be like putting on a pair of glasses. The things you look at are still the same but the way you perceive them could be very different. Life takes on a whole new perspective.
If we go through the day with Jesus constantly ahead of us, coloring our circumstances, we would discover that life could be so much more fulfilling. And perhaps we wouldn’t have to drop the ball ever so often.
With love, Doosuur.
Hebrews 12:2 (The Message)
The first rule of tennis, or indeed any ball game is simple. Keep your eyes on the ball. It seems straightforward enough but you’d be surprised how often a novice like me must remind myself, sometimes quite audibly, “keep your eyes on the ball.”
Today was no different. As usual, I changed into my tennis gear and began my warmup routine muttering to myself that most important mantra. As I got into the groove I went from Rule 1 to Rule 2: Move your feet. The other basic rules soon followed:
Take a backswing
Follow through
And very quickly, everything was flowing smoothly. One particular backhand drive made me feel like the new Federer come to town.
But then, almost as quickly as it had begun, it all started coming apart at the seams. I started hitting awry balls and ambitious drives became home runs as they rose over and beyond the confines of the premises. All of a sudden it seemed I just could not get it right. The more I tried the worse it became. What’s wrong? I wondered. And then it hit me. I stopped, took a breath and whispered to myself, “Doosuur, keep your eyes on the ball.” And then I started again. At the beginning.
But then it’s not just on the tennis court that I find I have to remind myself of the most important truth. It all starts well enough, in the morning, as I open God’s word and turn my eyes on Jesus. But then as the day drags on, it’s so easy for me, as I’m sure you, to get so caught up in the hustle and bustle that we neglect where our focus should be. We become so engrossed in meeting up with the demands of everyday life - pleasing a demanding boss, meeting an unexpected deadline, coping with a testy client - that all of a sudden the freshness and joy of a beautiful morning fades away.
And then if we are not careful we find ourselves hitting balls askew as we slowly lose control. We let our guard slip - a careless word here, a thoughtless gesture there - and very soon we’re headed down the slippery slope with no end in sight.
How apt it was of the writer to the Hebrews to command them, “fix your eyes on Jesus...” (NIV). He does not just say “look at Jesus”. He says, fix your eyes on Him. This is much more than a casual glance. It requires one to be involved in, immersed in, the object of their attention. Consider now, what it would mean for you if you were to really fix your eyes on Jesus. If I may use an analogy, it would be like putting on a pair of glasses. The things you look at are still the same but the way you perceive them could be very different. Life takes on a whole new perspective.
If we go through the day with Jesus constantly ahead of us, coloring our circumstances, we would discover that life could be so much more fulfilling. And perhaps we wouldn’t have to drop the ball ever so often.
With love, Doosuur.
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