A little something I was sent the other day
I was reminded of this poem by some of our discussions
tonight
shalom and have a Blessed Easter
Escaping the island
Those of us who have mapped out the geography of ourselves
know what a dispiriting exercise this can be. We start off okay. Marching boldly
towards the edge of our talent or our goodwill or our patience or our generosity
and then suddenly, we are brought up short by a precipice, usually at the point
where we were just beginning to believe that the firm ground would go on for
ever. Setting off in a different direction, we find that exactly the same thing
happens. In fact it happens again and again and again. Until we start to learn
that there is a shape and a limit to what we are. For some this is a welcome
piece of learning – settle down get on with it, they say. But for others, those
with the blood of explorers in their veins it is a kind of a prison – a kind of
island. We look for enough compassion to truly care about the world and we find
a pathetically limited ability to place our arms around the suffering of others.
We search for the strength of will to set ourselves and those we hate free from
the chains of resentment and bitterness only to find weakness and a cherishing
of hurts. We hunt within our hearts for the courage to fight when everything in
us wants to lie down, and for the obedience to wait quietly when we are full of
anger, but we discover instead a self – indulgence that will have what it is
greedy for.
We stand on the shore of our own lives, calling out to God
that we can go nowhere unless he provides a way.
Adrian Plass.
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