James’s Blog: The Desert is Good.

James’s Blog: The Desert is Good.

I know that the title looks like I mispelled ‘dessert’, but it’s actually correct as it is.

Being in a spiritual desert doesn’t sound appealing, and certainly anyone who has experienced it will know full well that it’s about as fun as it sounds, and yet…

Luke 4:1 tells us that Jesus, being full of the Holy Spirit, is then led into the desert by that same Holy Spirit. It’s like the closer you get to God the more likely you are to end up in the desert – and not because you took a wrong turn, but because it’s where God was wanting you to be all along.

Jesus is in the desert to be tempted, or tested, and in this way his journey mirrors that of Israel herself. Deuteronomy 8:2-3 tells us that Israel’s time in the desert was that they might learn humilty and be tested, and that they might understand that we don’t live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God…hang on, I’ve heard that somewhere before…

What I’m getting at is that desert time proved to be a central part of Israel’s identity. It was in the desert that God provided for them out of nothing, it was in the desert that He gave them the Law, it was in the desert that they learnt what it meant to belong to Him. Equally, the desert was Jesus’ training ground, where he learned what it meant to love God and get his identity from Him alone.

In short, if you want to grow, deserts are inevitable, because it’s only in the desert that you learn this type of lesson. As much as we wish otherwise, you can’t learn what it means to follow God from the comfort of a sofa, TV blaring and a cream cake in your hand.

But the desert is not supposed to be our goal. It’s a stop along the way, but it’s a crucial one, and a good one. Every now and then, you might find the Spirit of God steering into the dry wilderness once more, in order to be reminded of a precious lesson that you are in danger of forgetting, or to sit another exam, but He’ll always bring you out, stronger and fitter than when you went in.

I’m not telling you that you have to be happy about it, but the desert is actually a good place.

James’s Blog: A Different Perspective.

James’s Blog: A Different Perspective.
I’m making a conscious effort in 2019 to develop my skill at writing poetry. I’m trying to learn and understand the rules, with marginal success, though you may notice an increase in the amount of poetry that appears on the blog as I experiment. You are nothing more than guinea pigs to me. Read more

James’s Blog: Look Before You Leap.

James’s Blog:  Look Before You Leap.

Travis was looking down at the piece of paper on the clipboard when he heard the polite cough. He looked up. It was Nigel.

“Hi Nigel,” Travis said. “Good job today. You’re demonstrating some excellent technique.”

Nigel looked pleased, but only briefly. He then returned to looking like a man with something on his mind.

“Thanks Travis,” he replied. “Errr, did I hear right at the end of the lesson? Something about going up in a plane next week?”

“That’s right,” said Travis. “We’ve done about as much as we can on the ground for the moment. Time to get up there, and get a taste of what it’s like in the sky.”

Nigel looked as though Travis had just confirmed his worst fears.

“Going up? In a plane? Why do we need to do that?”

“Like I said. Just to give you some experience,” explained Travis.

“But why do we need to do that at all?” said Nigel.

“Sorry, mate. I’m not following.”

“I’m just asking, is the plane thing compulsory?”

Travis looked confused. “Well, it is eventually, mate. You can’t do skydiving without going up in a plane. The clue’s in the name – sky diving. But don’t worry. It’s just a taster. No-one’ll be jumping out of any planes next week.”

“What?” said Nigel. “Who said anything about jumping from a plane?”

“Sorry, mate, I must be confused. You do know you’ve been doing skydiving lessons for the past four weeks, don’t you?” said Travis.

“Yes, absolutely. That’s what I signed up for.”

“And that a big part of parachute jumping is the actual, you know, jumping.”

“I signed up for skydiving lessons. I wasn’t really aware that you were going to make us do an actual parachute jump at the end,” said Nigel.

“Let me get this straight,” said Travis carefully. “You wanted to take skydiving lessons without doing any actual skydiving?”

“That’s right. You really should have made it clearer in the literature.”

“Mate, I thought it was pretty clear, in the whole concept, you know? What would be the point of doing the lessons without the end product?” said Travis.

Nigel tutted, as though he’d just been told that his taxi would be five minutes late. “It’s just that I don’t see why I can’t just have the lessons so I know what I’m doing, and leave it at that.”

“Mate, it’s your money, but didn’t you think it a bit odd that we charged you for things like the plane and actual parachute if you weren’t going to do any jumping?”

“I saw that more as a donation. To support the general concept of skydiving and subsidise those who really wanted to do the actual jumping,” explained Nigel.

“And what about all the waivers we made you sign? Didn’t they give you a small clue?” asked Travis.

“I signed those because I agreed with the principles behind them. The safety instructions and stuff. And, as I said, I’m a big supporter of the general concept of skydiving. I wouldn’t have signed them if I’d known you were actually going to make me do it,” said Nigel.

Travis shook his head. “So what’s the point then? Why bother doing the lessons?”

“Well,” said Nigel, beginning to get excited, “I was thinking that I could take the stuff you taught me, go home and teach my friends how to skydive. Run my own courses, as it were.”

“Mate, you can’t do that! It took me years to become a qualified instructor! Skydiving is dangerous!”

“Oh don’t worry,” said Nigel reassuringly. “None of us would actually do any skydiving. You wouldn’t catch any of us going anywhere near an actual plane. No fear!”

“So you’re telling me that you want to take the lessons, but not actually do the skydiving?” said Travis suspiciously.

“That’s right,” agreed Nigel.

“And then you want to go and teach your friends what you’ve learnt, and then none of you will actually do any skydiving?”

“Right again,” said Nigel.

“And no-one is going to jump out of any planes?” said Travis.

“Too right,” said Nigel. “Why would we want to do something like that?”

“Yeah,” said Travis dryly, “what a crazy idea. Imagine learning how to do something and then actually going and doing it? Madness.”

“Good, I knew you’d understand.” Nigel clapped his hands together. “See you next week then…oh wait, no I won’t. The week after that. No planes the week after, are there?”

“No, mate. No planes,” said Travis.

“Thanks Travis,” said Nigel, turning away and heading towards the exit. He called over his shoulder as he left. “Keep up the good work! You’re a great teacher!”

“And you’re a great pupil,” Travis muttered under his breath, “but you’ll never be a great skydiver.”

James’s Blog: Three Years a Blogger.

James’s Blog: Three Years a Blogger.

Blogging is not rocket science (unless you’re a rocket scientist who’s blogging about rocket science), but even the simplest things can take their toll over a prolonged period. It’s been three years now. Three years. Three years of tapping away each week on my keyboard and releasing something into the cyberwild. At times it feels like pitching rocks into a river on a dark night – there may be ripples, but there’s no way of telling. Unless you can see in the dark – maybe with some kind of night vision goggles. I don’t know, this simile is getting away from me. Read more

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