by James Webb
For many years I’ve been haunted by the spectre of underachievement. I’ve been convinced that I should have got more done by now; made more of a difference; that I’ve fallen well short of my potential. I’ve spent large chunks of my life frustrated with myself. It’s a form of perfectionism that has, at times, both motivated me and made me miserable. Read more
One Saturday, many years ago, Ruth and I were travelling to London by train. We were sitting, waiting for the train to depart, when a couple and their young daughter got on. The man found a seat, but the woman stood by the open door, finishing her cigarette. The young girl, who must have been maybe five or six years old, began to speak Read more
There you are, just sitting, living your life and minding your own business, when there’s a knock at the door.
You get up and answer it.
It’s Jesus. He’s got a parcel for you. Read more
What can you build from dust and ashes?
From remnants scattered after flames?
Wealth of a life all burnt, destroyed,
Nothing of joy or hope remains. Read more
