Wearily upward

I recently noticed that 92% of my Gmail space is used. That is 13.88 GB of the available 15 GB, of which almost 9 GB is archived emails. It turns out I'm a bit of an e-hoarder... Anyway. Going to the very first lot of emails (that is numbers 1-50 of 39268 email threads) from 2006, I came across various emails that made me wonder who the heck I am. Lots have changed since then. Circumstances, people, names, pictures, and so much more. Scary, really. One email was from someone in the admissions office at my alma mater in response to an enquiry about studying medicine and what I needed to do to get accepted onto the course. I was quite obviously not successful, because this person referred to me as 'Dear George' instead of 'Nico' - which was the name I went by back then - (and still do...). So there's that trip down memory lane I would have liked to avoid. For some reason this email, sent 13 years ago, seems funny AND sad at the same time. Funny because it...

There's a story of a criminal who had once been before the courts, who was scheduled to appear once more. He rejoiced when he heard that an attorney who had defended him on previous occasions was now the trial judge. His attitude changed, however, when the judge stated, "When I was an attorney I defended you, but I am no longer an attorney. It is not my business now to defend, but to judge. I shall hear the evidence, and then I must deal with you in keeping with the oath I have taken in the office of judge." Similarly, Jesus Christ, who is at this very moment our attorney before the Father, even interceding for us, will one day return to judge every single one of us. Though He is our attorney now, He will be the judge then. And that reminds me, in a very real and relevant way, that I am not to be the judge of others. It isn't up to me to decide who is saved or will be saved on the day of judgment. I'm not even supposed to make a call on who is worthy of forgiv...

There's a story of an airline pilot who was about to take off from Boston to London. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," he said over the loud speaker system. "This is your captain speaking. We'll be crossing the Atlantic this evening at an altitude of 37000 feet. Our estimated speed will be 730 miles per hour. We should reach London in approximately 5 hours." After a moment of silence, the captain continued, "We will take off as soon as I get up enough nerve." I don't know whether this really happened or not. What I can relate to, though, is that I also, on some occasions, need to get up the nerve to do stuff. Sometimes I really need to motivate myself to do the big, scary, challenging things that needs doing. At other times I just need to motivate myself to get out of bed. Especially when going through times of self-doubt, loneliness, or feeling insignificant and worthless. The words of Maximus in the movie Gladiator  springs to mind: ...

I was travelling in Central Asia a while ago, and, after returning to the regular fold of things, I reflected on my journey and experiences. I reflected on how wonderful, amazing, awesome and truly memorable it was as I rummaged through photos and some of my journal entries. The scenery was breathtaking. The people we met were beautiful, sincere and truly friendly. I was blessed with being part of a marvellous team, sharing stories, laughing together and making prescious memories. It was awesome. And yet, on reflection, if I were to single out one thing that made this trip super special, it would be not being needed for anything by anyone. I recognised that (for me at least, and probably for all people working with other human beings in some capacity) it is good to get away from being needed by others. Sometimes. For various reasons, I suppose. One being that we can easily fall into the trap of making others' need for us the defining part of our identity. Another being that it...

Fear can make us do funny things. I remember as a youngster how, after my evening bath, I would switch off the bathroom light, run through the living room (in darkness) and into the safety of our well lit kitchen. Then, at bedtime, I would jump onto my bed from a significant amount of feet away, just in case there were something with hands underneath it. "Were I the only one?" I think as I check for creepy fingers beneath my desk at work... Fear also makes us miss wonderful opportunities and experiences. On the other hand there is FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out); doing so much because you're afraid of missing out. The underlying driving force, however, is still fear. Whether it impels us into doing/attempting too much (FOMO), makes us freeze (not doing/attempting when we should), makes us fly (jumping onto our beds for no apparent reason), or makes us fight (putting up walls/defences with fists and guns raised), it is all driven by fear. John sees the Christian life in...

I don't know if you experience the same thing: going away for a couple of weeks, coming back and feeling like you've not been away at all. I've been away for two weeks. Apparently lots have changed. England won the Cricket World Cup in a nailbiter of a final; Boris Johnson is the new PM (and the world has not ended... yet...); my (nearly 2-year-old) son seems to have grown up all of a sudden; London experienced it's hottest day ever. And yet, on my walk to work this morning, it all seems to be exactly the same as I left it two weeks ago. The same shops are still selling expensive coffee; the E-car charging points still have the same graffiti; there is still the same amount of traffic on the road; people still wear headphones while walking (as do I); my desk at work is still messy (sorry about that...). So what's the use of going on a significant journey if coming back only means more of the same as before? I don't know. But what I do know is that, because ...

I recently entered our living room after a quick Sunday afternoon nap, to find our kids (Madeleine, 4; Ruben, nearly 2) eating some popcorn. Madeleine's first words to me were "Pappa, we ate your last marshmallows. Mamma said we could." This was fine with me, so I jokingly said "Okay, then I need to eat your popcorn, now..." To which Madeleine replied "You better eat Ruben's, 'cause mine's all done," That seems a bit unfair, I thought. Having both marshmallows AND popcorn, then letting your little brother "pay" for it with his popcorn. Almost as unfair as 'having the best of both worlds.' Almost as unfair as the story Jesus told about the workers in the vineyard who got the same wages for doing an hour's work as the workers who worked all day (Matthew 20). Almost as unfair as another story Jesus told about a son who left his dad and brother to live the wild life, then being lavishly welcomed home, while the other bro...