There are days when I feel like I am sixteen again. I can sense the eagerness, a na?ve enthusiasm, and a mantle of hope that I wear without reservation or fear. On other occasions the days and years weigh heavily on my heart. It is as if even the hope for hope is a dim memory while the burden of the world rest precariously on my soul. In these moments I wonder what my legacy will be. Will others carry on after I am gone? Should the things that I hold to be important continue? Does anyone else have even part of the vision?
The fall is the season for political conferences in England. In contrast to the US where these events occur on a four year cycle, here it is yearly. The questions that come each year follow a similar pattern. Will anyone challenge the party’s leader? What are the key themes and priorities of the party? How is any of this relevant to the populace at large? Without being a political expert it is easy to see why people are both skeptical and dubious.
How can anyone be all things to all people all the time? That is the essence of a speech as recently at last night. There is very little, if anything, that everyone holds in common. The doubts that the broad spectrum of people represented in the UK would naturally agree on enough to allow a political party to function and govern is overwhelming. At the same time, can we spend more and tax less? Two parties would have us believe this even though there are no examples of where this works. The questions go on endlessly. I wonder how history will view this time.
Joel asks us to “make sure you tell your children, and your children tell their children, and their children their children. Don't let this message die out.” (Joel 1.3) Yet I wonder. Do we know the Message? Do we understand God’s legacy?
God invites us into experience. It is an invitation that rests on our choice.
