Wearily upward

My family and I visited friends and family in South Africa recently. For a part of our trip we stayed on a game farm, so, naturally, we went on loads of game drives. A photographer's paradise!  On one of these drives we were completely surrounded by a herd of about 10 elephants. There's something special about being that close to something that wild and that big, but also that peaceful; to be at the mercy of such immense power, but not feeling afraid (sound familiar?). If it sounds spectacular, it really was!  It would almost seem like a bit of a let-down seeing this bird and its young a few minutes later. It is a picture of a Greater Painted Snipe ( Goudsnip in Afrikaans) protecting its young from a bunch of people in a big game viewing Land Cruiser. But the more I think about it, the more I am amazed at this incredible expression of love, care, courage and sacrifice. I am reminded of Psalm 91:3-4 (NIVUK): "Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare and from the

There are a lot of focus on Machine Learning and Artificial Intelligence at the moment. It really is an exciting and terrifying technology that is already influencing so much of what we do and know today; from algorithms that suggest what ads we see on websites to self-driving cars, and so much more. Exciting because the possibilities of what can be achieved is quite possibly endless. Terrifying for the same reason, and also that the long-term consequences of using this technology are still largely unknown. Does any of this remind you of something else? Something else that has a near-infinite capacity for doing good and/or evil? Something else that influences lives in significant yet unseen ways? Something else that has consequential actions which echo far beyond the here and now? I am, of course, thinking of human beings. More specifically, the human mind and heart. I'm sure you have heard the old adage "You can do anything you put your mind to." credited to Benjamin Fra

I can't help but think that I disappoint my wife and kids more often than not. I get the sense that my wife fell in love with her mental picture of me back in the day, and I just can't live up to that person. At least not as much as I would like to. She never says this, but I get a vibe every now and then - a well timed sigh loud enough to hear from the other room, the uncontrollable look of disappointment when I don't do something "the right way", etc. My kids, on the other hand, just outright tells it as it is. Children are honest and sincere like that. I wonder whether that is why Jesus welcomed them so openly...  Anyway. It's hard when expectations outweigh our abilities. Or, put differently, it's hard when the reality of who we are does not line up with the expectation of who we are. We all do it. We all set expectations of others, mostly determined by our own experience and preferences. For example: a teacher has a classroom of children, each with th

Trust is an interesting thing. Even a scary thing at times. But it's something we do every day, inadvertently. We were driving to Devon just after Christmas for some time away after a busy year full of many changes. I quit my job, started (and successfully completed) a Data Science bootcamp, our son started Reception, and our daughter seemed to have become an 8-year old teenager overnight. Anyway. I was driving us to a place in Devon I've never been to, using Google Maps to guide our way. I tried to work out how we  used to travel before phone based GPS's were a thing (I still can't remember what that was like...).  Anyway.  I realised that we were putting our trust in something without knowing how it works to get us somewhere we've never been, on a road where we didn't see the destination until we got there (in the dark). That's trust. And never once did I doubt that we'll get there. Then I realised that we were putting our trust in Google Maps for a co

It's a scary thing to be officially unemployed for the first time in a very long time. I'm not changing jobs, I'm changing careers, and as such am now in a waiting time before I start retraining. And there is always an element of risk to doing this. Questions frequently come to mind: Are you insane to do it at this age? Are you sure you want to do this? What about your family? What if you fail? What if you go down this road and you realise halfway through that it's the wrong path? Where will you get the money from? What if...? What about...? Who do you think you are to change anything? I am aware that I am not the first person to go through this, and I am certainly not the only person facing these questions at this very moment. It seems that one of the consequences of a global pandemic is that people re-evaluate their lives and priorities (rightly or wrongly...) and that changes inevitably occur as a result.  It seems that change (whether we choose it or not) is, ironic

As we get closer to Easter the regular Easter songs and Easter readings start popping up at church a bit more frequently. Almost like Carols, Isaiah 9 and Michael Bublé come out of hibernation in the run-up to Christmas. One of these Easter readings is the prophecy of Christ's crucifixion from Isaiah 53. It's a fairly well-known passage quoted in many songs and sermons, but the bit that stood out for me this morning was right at the start of the chapter in verses two and three: "He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain. Like one from whom people hide their faces he was despised, and we held him in low esteem." It got me thinking about how I judge and value people at a glance most of the time. I had to ask myself these questions: Would I have held Jesus in low esteem if I met Him back in Biblical times? Would I have missed ou