Dawn Of The Dead

Tomorrow morning our son, Adam, is going on an end of term school trip to Scotland. He is super excited about this and has been looking forward to it for weeks. I am not quite so excited as (a) I had to pay for the trip (b) he announced he would need £60-80 ‘spending money’ but this was okay as the ‘spoilt kids’ were taking £150 and (c) I will have to get up at 4:30 a.m. to drive him to his pick up point.

After that I have five hours to kill before work. What to do? What to do? Go back to bed? Unlikely that I will get back to sleep and, even if I did, I would probably wake up more shattered than before. Go for a run? I hate early morning runs and always struggle on them. Plus I haven’t been feeling that well this week so my running mojo has been somewhat lacking.

Go on Amazon and buy some new books for my Kindle Fire? Tempting if it wasn’t for the fact that our son has already bankrupted me of late through semi-formals, school trips, new school uniform and rugby kit etc. The Bank of Dad is down to its last few pennies make no mistake.

Spring clean the house from top to bottom and prepare breakfast in bed for my wonderful wife? This has potential but runs the risk of burning the house down or waking Fionnuala up early as I blunder around the kitchen banging cupboard doors and dropping saucepans on the floor.


So many options coursed through my head. Then it hit me. Never once had I included God in my enforced early start. Why wasn’t I starting my day in his company? When was the last time I started the day studying his Word, praying the million prayers I should be praying or just quietly meditating in his presence?

We are so used to living our noisy, chaotic lives at a million miles an hour that when we do get cursed (I mean blessed) with a dawn start we immediately look for ways to fill the time with additional clutter as opposed to making the most of the opportunity and spending time with God.

Jesus often got up early to spend time with his Father in Heaven. And he had the busiest days imaginable. So why can’t we follow his example. Now that the brighter mornings are here (at least where we live) it isn’t much to ask. He wants to spend time with us. And it will be time well spent.

Anyway I’m off to bed. I have an early start tomorrow 😳

Mark 1:35 – ‘Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed.’

Are you a morning person? Or do you fail to function as a human being until after noon?

When do you spend your quiet time with God?

What is the first thing you normally do when you get up?

The Extra Mile

Regular readers of this blog may have noticed the recurring theme of my love of ice cream. This has increased significantly in recent years as my marathon training has justified (in my mind anyway) my need to consume copious amounts of the stuff while binge watching Netflix. Currently Jessica Jones.

I’m not fussy when it comes to my ice cream but Fionnuala is. Her favourite  is ‘Pooh Bear’ honeycomb flavour. And I have to admit she has got me hooked on it. To the extent that I am digging into a litre tub of it as I write this. So excuse the sticky fingers please. 

The shop in our village stocks Morelli’s ice cream, a very famous brand in Northern Ireland. And they boast a variety of flavours. Including ‘Pooh Bear’. And very nice it is too. However my wife has high standards when it comes to her taste buds and insists on eating only Maud’s ‘Pooh Bear’ ice cream. No exceptions. And don’t try to fool her for she will find out, hunt you down and kill you.

This involves me driving to the next village to purchase the aforementioned dessert. Which involves driving an extra mile no less. And then driving back again. This huge outlay of time and effort on my part is outweighed by the fact that I can’t really complain. Bringing Fionnuala back the wrong ice cream would be the equivalent of returning to me with Pepsi Max when I asked for Diet Coke. Divorce proceedings would be imminent.


So I’m quite happy to go the extra mile where ice cream is concerned. But when was the last time we went the extra mile to help a friend, neighbour or for that matter total stranger? When was the last time we went the extra mile to help out at our church when we would rather just turn up every Sunday and go through the motions? When was the last time we went the extra mile and stepped out of our comfort zone to talk about our faith and advance the Kingdom of God.

It’s easy for us to go the extra mile when it suits us and serves our own selfish needs. Not so much when it clashes with our sinful, default instincts. Jesus went the extra mile for us. To the Cross. Punched, kicked and spat upon every step of the way. Flayed to the bone and beaten to an unrecognisable pulp. He didn’t have to. He asked God was there another way. But he did it. To rectify the complete mess we had made, were making and would make of our lives.

I didn’t run today so I didn’t really deserve ice cream. But I went the extra mile for it anyway. I didn’t deserve what Jesus achieved at the Cross. But he went the extra mile for me. The least I can do is spend the rest of my life going the extra mile for him and for others. 

Or even better. Two miles.

Matthew 5:41 – ‘If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles.’

How far have you ever driven for your favourite treat?

How could you go the extra mile for someone today?

Just Giving

In my last blog I wrote about our efforts to raise funds to buy a new wheelchair for our daughter, Hannah. As part of that process Fionnuala (the technically gifted one in our marriage) has set up a ‘Just Giving’ account so that people can donate online at the touch of a button.

It’s so simple. And the money has already started to come in. Every time a donation is made Fionnuala’s phone gets a notification and we excitedly look at the screen to see who has donated. From close friends and family to complete strangers. We have been humbled by the generosity of people.

An hour ago some friends who we haven’t seen in many months turned up at our front door and made a generous and totally unexpected donation. They had been driving through our village and felt led to bless Hannah with the gift. My gob was well and truly smacked. 


Such generosity is truly inspiring. It fills me with hope and positivity for the future. Every donation, no matter how small, is a little raindrop of love on our daughters head who, herself, loves her family and friends 24/7 with a passion. As I write this she is her room singing Ariana and Adele songs live on Facebook to her adoring public. A miraculous step from the sad and lonely girl we were fretting over 24 hours ago. Filled with hope again of a future outside of the four walls of her bedroom. Thanks to the kindness of others.

Just Giving is a brilliant concept. But there is no such thing as ‘just’ giving. By giving we are spreading love and light into a broken world full of broken people. Giving a homeless person a meal or a hot drink. Giving a lonely, elderly relative a phone call. Giving a friend in need your time and undivided attention. 

You are not ‘just’ giving. You are going on the front foot and setting down foundations for a better world. A world where a little girl can sing and dance today, where yesterday she was heartbroken. Living your life in a way that impacts on others and breaks down the walls of selfishness and indifference. Bringing a little bit of Heaven to earth. 

Generosity is a blessing. A gift that can change lives and build kingdoms. It’s not just a one-off act. It should be a lifestyle choice. It’s not just giving. It’s living.

We need to live to give. 

Proverbs 3:27 – ‘Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to act.’


Don’t Give Up 

For what seems like forever we have been battling with our local health trust to acquire a new wheelchair for our daughter,  Hannah. Hannah is 13 years old and was born with spina bifida and hydrocephalus. She has outgrown her current wheelchair to the extent that it is now dangerous for her to use. She has been out of school for six weeks (and counting) and is largely housebound as we fight an ongoing bureaucratic nightmare with the medical authorities to obtain the essential equipment Hannah needs to live her life.

It’s got to the point now where he have decided to raise the funds ourselves to buy the chair that Hannah needs. Kids with disabilities should be at the very heart of our society. They should be loved, cherished and protected, not exiled to the fringes and seen as an inconvenience by some medical professionals. They deserve better.

As do their carers. I will have known my wife Fionnuala for 21 years this summer. She is an utterly devoted wife and mother. To the extent where she has given up her career to care for Hannah and our other two kids. The problems with Hannah’s chair have had a devastating ripple effect on the family. Fionnuala has been affected most of all. She cannot leave Hannah’s side so is effectively housebound herself. 

Every day for her is ‘Groundhog Day.’ A mind numbing routine of housework and hospital appointments. She has a heart as big as a house but it is breaking at present. Breaking for her daughter but also breaking for the life she had which now seems so tantalisingly out of her reach. A year ago she had an important job and had a hectic social life. She was very involved in our church.

Now that she has had to give up her job and we have decided to step down from church life the phone has stopped ringing. She gives so much and expects so little in return. Yet people forget. People disappoint. And she sits and looks out the window as life appears to pass her by. 


It’s easy, at times like this, to think that God has forgotten as well. When the loneliness is overwhelming and the obstacles seem insurmountable. We have prayed long and hard about this. Fionnuala has cried, pleaded and screamed. She will fight tooth and nail for her family. She always puts the needs of others before her own.

They say an untested faith is a useless faith. Well our faith is being sorely tested of late. My wife is a proud woman. An intelligent woman. And a patient and forgiving woman (she did marry me after all!). I know this is just a season of her life and that God has incredible plans for her. Just around the corner. But we round the corners of our lives in his time and not our own.

I feel Fionnuala’s corner is close, very close. But that is little consolation to someone who feels at the bottom of the pit, at the end of their tether. Words are cheap. As meaningless as chasing the wind. But prayer is powerful. And just as light always overcomes darkness so love will always conquer despair.

Fionnuala as you read this I pray for you. That your light keeps burning, that your flame never goes out. You are deeply loved and the heartbeat of this family. We are nothing without you. You are strong and beautiful, a warrior. A Daughter of the living King. My best friend, my earthly salvation, my number one fan. Yes cry, scream, swear and shout.

But do not give up. As I will never give up on you and us.

Philippians 4:13 – ‘I can do all this through him who gives me strength.’

D.N.F.

On Wednesday evening I ran my second half marathon of the year through the streets of Lisburn, joining 6500 other runners for the annual event. I was quite nervous before the start for a variety of reasons. It was the first race I had taken part in since my recent foot injury so I was apprehensive as to how that would hold up. 

Secondly it was probably the hottest evening of the year. Now when I say hot, I mean by Northern Irish standards where we regularly have four seasons in one day and summer usually consists of a sunny Tuesday afternoon in June. So when I say the thermometer was hitting 25C (77F) at the start many of you may turn up your noses in disdain.

But to your average Northern Irish male this equates to Death Valley-esque conditions. So as I set off into the arid desert that is Lisburn and surrounding countryside I kept repeating the same word over and over in my head – hydrate, hydrate, hydrate.

Now as all you ladies know us men struggle to carry out two tasks simultaneously. And running and drinking water is no exception. First there is the approach to the water station where you have to slow down and time your approach in order to reach out and take the polystyrene cup from the volunteer while, at the same time, avoiding other thirsty runners and gangs of kids wanting to high five you.

Next is the mechanics of getting the cup to your lips. I was taught the old runner’s trick of pinching the cup into a funnel which certainly works. But I still manage on a regular basis to miss my mouth, choke on the drink or stumble over discarded cups on the road as I exit the water station. 

It’s a veritable nightmare. Sometimes I just run past them without slowing down. But at Lisburn I made a point of taking on fluid at every available opportunity. No matter how awkward I looked in the process. The heat and humidity just seemed to increase with every passing mile. There was no breeze whatsoever and the cloud cover overhead just added to the draining conditions.

I finished in a decent time but upon crossing the line had to immediately sit down to avoid keeling over. My t shirt was soaking wet and for the next 48 hours I could not drink enough. I had completed the course but was seriously dehydrated. Had I not drank at every water station I’m pretty certain that the dreaded letters ‘DNF’ (Did Not Finish) would have been against my name in the official records.


As Christians we need to constantly refuel as well. The race we run is long and arduous. We will face many obstacles and challenges along the way. But we have the best possible coach in Jesus who, via the Holy Spirit, is with us every step of the way; and who provides all the encouragement and replenishment we need.

Dehydration leads to pain, lack of focus, illness and ultimately death. You can easily collapse by the wayside or stumble down the wrong path. I have many times. Without prayer, study, worship and fellowship you will fail to finish the race. Run the race. Run it fast and strong. But also run it wisely. Don’t neglect rehydrating with living water at every opportunity.

Don’t be a DNF….

John 4:13-14 – ‘Jesus answered, ‘Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.’

What is your favourite drink?

Have you ever been badly hydrated?

How do you spiritually refuel?

The Day I Met The Stark Sisters

I am a massive Game Of Thrones fan. I regard myself as a purist as I had read the books before the TV series took off and became such a worldwide hit. I grew up on a diet of J.R.R. Tolkien and was a proud member of the Dungeons & Dragons Society at school. All of the above contributed to the fact that I didn’t speak to a girl until I was eighteen. Yes I was a geek. But I was a happy geek.

The icing on the cake regarding Game Of Thrones (or GOT as us afficiandos like to call it) is that much of it is filmed in little old Northern Ireland. The Giants Causeway, Dunluce Castle and The Dark Hedges all suddenly became internationally recognisable as GOT film sets. And I would often take my lunchtime run past The Paint Studios near Belfast Docks in the slim hope of seeing one of the cast being whisked through the security gates for filming.

GOT cast spotting in Belfast city centre became something of a national pastime. Unconfirmed sightings regularly flooded Facebook in addition to photographs of the stars of the show in the most peculiar of settings. Brienne of Tarth playing pool with Ramsay Bolton  in Laverys Bar. Tyrion Lannister strolling down the Lisburn Road doing a bit of window shopping.

These were all small fry as far as I was concerned. I was Team Stark and the true jewel in the crown of any fanboy was a photograph with one of the Starks, the family whose fortunes and actions lay at the heart of the show. I scoured the streets every day for a glimpse of Sean Bean, Sophie Turner or Kit Harrington. But alas to no avail.

Until one day. I was wandering through the city centre on my lunch break when up ahead of me I saw a tall girl with flame red hair cutting through the crowds at speed. With her was a smaller girl with shorter, dark hair. They look just like Sophie Turner and Maisie Williams (Sansa and Arya Stark in the show) I mused to myself before it hit me like a rampaging rhino. It was Sophie Turner and Maisie Williams!

To cut a long story short I used my finely honed surveillance skills to follow them to a shopping centre where I cornered them in a jewellery store. I babbled a bit about how much I loved the show, before getting a photograph taken and tben floating back out of the shop on Cloud 9. They were both lovely by the way.

I spent the rest of the day phoning, texting and tweeting virtually everyone I knew to tell them my earth shattering news. My equally nerdy fans gushed and gasped with me but a number caused me great offence when they politely replied ‘Er…..Sophie and Maisie who?’

Had they been living under a rock I responded in disbelief? You don’t know who they are? I shook my head in pity at their ignorance and returned to gaping at my celebrity pic of the century.


Celebrity is a very fickle occupation. Today’s superstar is tomorrow’s z lister dependent on the mood of the public. Fame is equally subjective. My hero could mean very little to you and vice versa. The reverse happened to me earlier this week when I walked past a local rugby star who had been asked to give out the prizes at our daughter’s sports day. I only realised later when I saw his photo on Facebook surrounded by awestruck pupils. But to me he had been just some random guy on the street.

This made me think of Jesus. Even the most belligerent agnostic or atheist will agree that he has the most famous name in the world. Believers would fall to his feet in adoring worship were he to appear in our street today. Surely we would recognise him immediately? Heralded by trumpets and flashes of lightning? Long brown hair, beard and a robe right?

But Jesus appeared in many guises following his resurrection. And his closest companions did not recognise him. And there are arguments that he pops up throughout the Old Testament. In fact Jesus is everywhere. So when we walk past the homeless person in the street; when we ignore the sounds of domestic violence next door; when we turn our backs on the friend or relative who is struggling with debt, addiction or depression are we not in fact neglecting our supposed Lord and Saviour who died for us.

My prayer for you is that you do not walk past Jesus today. My prayer is that your walk through this life leaves footprints that reverberate love and compassion through the lives of others. My prayer is that you fine tune your spiritual antennae so that you see him in every aspect of your daily routine. 

Please like and share if you enjoyed this blog. Or check out some of our other posts. 

Have you ever ‘stalked’ a celebrity through the streets?

What societies were you in at school? Were you a jock or a geek?

When did you last see Jesus in somebody else.

Bin There Done That

Today was bin day. This is one of the few domestic chores that Fionnuala trusts me to do without (a) setting off the smoke alarm (b) seriously injuring myself and/or other family members or (c) incurring financial costs for damages in excess of the original expense of performing said task.

Having OCD I rather enjoy our waste disposal system. We have three wheelie bins. A black one for general waste, a green one for recyclables and a brown one for degadeable products. Today was ‘Big Daddy’ day, the black one.


A more organised and cautious man would ensure that the bin is put out the night before collection as our bin men (I mean refuge disposal operatives) descend upon our street early and at speed. Woe betide anyone who does not have their bin in place because, blink, and they are gone.

I have been caught out like this a number of times which has resulted in recriminations and much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Question? When was the last time you gnashed your teeth? Do you gnash regularly or are you merely a social gnasher? What gnashing technique do you currently deploy?

An overflowing bin is no party. Apart from the wrath of your spouse, they are smelly, untidy and unhygienic. Then why do I keep taking a chance by not leaving it out the night before but instead leaving it to the following morning with all its inherent risks?

Much as I would like to see myself as a rule flaunting maverick it is probably more to do with the fact that I am a bit lazy and at the end of a long day cannot face the Herculean task of wheeling a bin the staggering distance of thirty yards from the back of the house to the front of the house.

In the same way our emotional bins need regularly emptied. Of all the mental junk that we accumulate during an average week. The anger, guilt, jealousy, unforgiveness and hate that eat away at us from the inside out and poison our thoughts and words if left untended.

An overflowing emotional bin ultimately leads to depression, despair and incalculable hurt to yourself and those close to you. As followers of Jesus we cannot be transformed more to his likeness if we don’t regularly attend to this matter. Through prayer, worship, study and having the right people in place around you who you can regularly unload to.

In order to foster a healthy mind and healthy relationships every day needs to be bin day. Otherwise life is just rubbish.

How many bins do you have?

When did you last empty your emotional bin?

Is gnashing and wailing past it’s sell by date?

Life Without Diet Coke

If you had to spend the rest of your life on a desert island what three items would you take with you? It’s one of those questions we have all been asked at least once in our lives. And the answers often say a lot about who we are and where we are at in our lives.

The question popped into my head the other day and my subconscious went into overdrive. Do wives and children count as one item? And if not which one of my three kids get the heave ho. Because obviously Fionnuala is a shoe-in. Obviously….

What about books? I am an avid reader and couldn’t survive without more than three books? Which books? What if I brought my Kindle Fire? Then I could have hundreds of books. Happy Days! But hang on. Is there wifi on the island? And for that matter electricity?? This is more difficult than I first thought. Aaaaaaaarrrrggghhhhh!

My Diet Coke addiction raises other issues. I drink a ridiculous amount of the stuff. More than I should I know. It started at university when I got hooked on it in order to get me through endless nights of panicked cramming. And my love affair with it has blossomed from there.

I can’t manage a day without it. I have tried. And failed miserably. Let’s just say it would end up like that scene in ‘Trainspotting’ involving Ewan McGregor and the three buckets. It’s one of my first actions in the morning, just like a nicotine addict reaching for a cigarette from their bedside table. 

My office desk is cluttered with empty tins. I know where to go in Belfast for the best deals and have been known to boycott stores when their offers end. I prefer the taste of tinned Diet Coke to bottled Diet Coke. Is that even possible? And don’t get me started on Diet Pepsi. It would be like offering methadrone to a heroin addict.

So that’s that sorted tben. My family (included as one item), my Kindle Fire (if wifi and electricity are included in the equation) and an unlimited supply of Diet Coke. Can a fridge be thrown in as well he asked hopefully?

Your three items will no doubt be different. But they all have one thing in common. They are items that we can’t live without; or at least think we can’t live without.

So what about God? Where does he fit in? Can we live without him? It pains me to say that whereas I can’t go a day without Diet Coke, I have more than once gone days (weeks he cringed) without picking up my Bible or praying. And as for living my life like Jesus as opposed to like selfish, sinful Stephen. Er…….

We fill our lives with earthly junk. Gorge ourselves on earthly needs. Bow down to false idols every day. And amidst all this noise and clutter God is often pushed to the back of the queue. But at the end of the day it’s all meaningless. 

The only person who can fill a God sized hole is God. And the beauty of being a Christian is that we believe he resides within us in the form of the Holy Spirit. And when it comes to talking to him you don’t need wifi or phone signals. He has given us a more effective communication tool. It’s called prayer. 

Now I’m off to post this blog and celebrate with a Diet Coke. I’m sure God won’t mind….

Ecclesiastes 1:14 – I have seen all the things that are done under the sun; all of them are meaningless, a chasing after the wind.

What items would be on your Desert Island list?

What is your secret (or not so secret) addiction?

When did you last talk to God?

Calcification Of The Soul

Regular readers of the blog (Hi Mum) will know all about the foot injury I sustained while out running last month. The initial prognosis was an avulsion fracture of the cuboid bone in my left foot and torn ligaments. Dr. Google informed me that this could mean months out of action. Which seemed to bring to an end my dream of running a half marathon for charity on 21 June. Which is in 36 hours and 23 minutes to be precise. Not that I’m counting.

However as I write this I am preparing to go out on my final training plod before the big event tomorrow. Yes I’m running it. The foot is 100% again. No crutches. No pain. Prayers have been answered and I am going to do it, having been given the all-clear by my physiotherapist last week.

The reason? Well I truly believe that God played a huge part given the intense pain and discomfort I was in at the time. Rest and doing what the medical staff advised me to also undoubtedly ended. But there was a third reason.

The foot wasn’t broken.

When I was shown the initial x-ray there was, clear as day, a shadow adjacent to the bone. It was explained to me that this was a flake of bone that had been torn from my foot when the ankle ligament became detached. Sorry for the graphic detail here but it did look that way even to my uneducated eye.


Fast forward two weeks and the physiotherapist cheerfully informed me that the initial diagnosis had been inaccurate and the official verdict of the radiographer who had subsequently assessed the x-ray was no fracture. But then what was the mystery UFO (Unidentified Floating Object) that had shown up on the x-ray?

Turns out that when a tendon or ligament is overused (say by a middle aged man who should know better but still insists on running marathons) it becomes inflamed. Which can lead to the build-up of calcium salts in the relevant area. A bit like barnacles on the hull of a ship. It is called calcification.

How many times in your life have you felt broken? Unable to stand? Utterly helpless? In incredible pain? And I’m not talking physically broken. But mentally, emotionally, spiritually. You have hit rock bottom and can see no way out of the dark hole you have dug yourself into. 

You have allowed life to overwhelm you. Years of guilt, secrets, lies and regrets have steadily accumulated to the stage where you feel irrevocably broken and defeated. Calcification of the soul.

As a person I have been there. More than once. But when I decided to become a Christian four years ago God set to work removing all the grime and dirt that I had allowed to develop during my journey through life. He picked it all away. Not a pretty process but a necessary one.

Don’t get me wrong. I still mess up. It is a constant work in process. Like painting a massive road bridge that takes years to complete. Once they get to one end the painters have to go back to the other side and start all over again. 

God can remove all of the dirt. And when he shows us the x-ray we can see that there was no fracture. Our souls were not permanently broken. They just needed a little godly TLC.

You are not broken. You are loved. Just hand the junk over to God. Decalcify today….

Psalm 34:18 – The Lord is near to the broken hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Does the above message speak to you? We would love to hear your thoughts.

Touch 

I was walking through the train station this morning praying that God would grace me with a blog idea that would have a positive impact on the life of someone who read it. I was concentrating so wasn’t really looking where I was going, causing me to lose my balance and stumble into a man walking to my right.

I mumbled an embarrassed apology to him and continued on out of the station and into the city. No harm done, or so I thought. Then I remembered (or rather God prompted me) a book I read some weeks ago called ‘Touch’ by Claire North. It is the story of a spirit named Kepler who can move from human body to human body via the slightest touch of human skin. In the book it is known as ‘jumping.’

Kepler was formerly a human who was brutally murdered but at the point of death ‘jumped’ into the body of his (or her. We are never told either way by the author) killer. Now hundreds of years old the spirit is being hunted by a sinister international syndicate determined to wipe out Kepler  and his/her fellow spirits. 

For they are more than one. The spirits roam the earth imparting good or evil as they see fit. Upon jumping they inherit all the physical and attributes of their hosts. But not the memories. Some remain with their hosts for mere seconds before ‘jumping’ to the next occupant. On other occasions they remain days, weeks, months and even years in the body.

Following a jump the original host has no memory of the period during which they have been occupied. Young men can regain their senses to find they are 10 miles from where they last recalled and they have no recollection of the previous day. Others awake continents away and decades later to a life they have no memory of.


It’s a fascinating premise and a great read. And I’m sure there are many times we have all wished we could escape our mundane, messed up lives and start again. Or looked enviously at someone we regard as more attractive, eloquent, wealthier or ‘happier’ than ourselves. 

Unfortunately life doesn’t work like that. We have one life, one body, one chance. And while that might appear hopefully inadequate at any given time there has to be a method to the madness. 

As a Christian I have faith that God created me as I am for a purpose. I must be on this earth for a reason. Otherwise life makes very little sense. If I am only a random collection of molecules genetically thrown together for a finite period of time then my outlook is fairly grim.

I regularly struggle as to what that purpose is. Especially on the bad days when the grass looks so much greener on the other side. But as I once heard a pastor say in response to this cliche ‘Well maybe you need to start watering the grass on your side a little bit more.’

God has equipped us all with gifts that will allow us to transform the lives of others within our sphere of influence. That sphere can be a home, a classroom, a sports team or an entire nation. We don’t get the opportunity to ‘jump’ but we do get the opportunity to ‘touch.’ To be kind, to be patient, to show compassion and to fight injustice. To love. 

So today. Don’t jump. Touch….

Jeremiah 29:11 – ‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’

When did you last want to ‘jump’ out of your own life into another one?

Where is your sphere of influence?

How has God touched your life lately?