The Sunflower’s Dance
Did you know sunflowers can dance?
While they may appear to be standing perfectly still, sunflowers actually make subtle, almost imperceptible movements called circumnutation. And even more remarkable, they grow in patterns that carefully avoid overshadowing their neighbors.
These aren't just plants selfishly stretching toward the light. They're dancing a choreographed routine that allows the entire field to flourish. Each sunflower adjusts its growth direction to prevent casting shadows on nearby plants. The result? Maximum sunlight absorption for the entire community.
This botanical ballet offers a beautiful picture of how the body of Christ is meant to operate.
In Romans 12:10, we're instructed, "Be kindly affectioned one to another with brotherly love; in honour preferring one another." These sunflowers live out this scripture in their own remarkable way, preferring their neighbors by ensuring they receive adequate light.
How often do we, as Christians, position ourselves to cast shadows over our brothers and sisters?
Marble Troubles, Sandy Blessings
Have you ever noticed how we tend to remember the negative far more vividly than the positive? I certainly have. Last week, while chatting with a friend about our past year, I found myself dwelling on the challenges like health flare-ups, ministry disappointments, and frustrating conversations. My list of troubles flowed effortlessly, while I struggled to recall specific blessings.
It struck me later that I’d been etching my trials in marble while letting my blessings wash away like footprints in the sand.
This peculiar human tendency reminds me of Joseph in the Bible. Talk about someone who could have clung to bitterness! Sold into slavery by his own brothers, falsely accused by Potiphar’s wife, and forgotten in prison by the cupbearer, Joseph had a mental museum of grievances he could have displayed.
Instead, when naming his sons, Joseph made a remarkable choice.
Finding Bugs Bunny in a Broken World
The other day, I was browsing YouTube, searching for videos to help me learn about one of the latest software updates in the writing world. Because I'd been searching the topic a lot lately, many related videos were popping up. But it wasn't the educational content that ultimately captured my attention. No, it was an hour-long compilation of Looney Tunes.
Yes, the original Looney Tunes that I grew up on. Those classic cartoons featuring Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck, Elmer Fudd, and the whole gang. Despite my busy schedule and the educational videos I had previously been searching for, I decided to indulge in "just a few minutes" of nostalgic animation.
Those few minutes quickly turned into half an hour as I sat at my desk, giggling like a schoolgirl. There was Bugs, munching his carrot and delivering his iconic "What's up, Doc?"
Focused on the Wrong Things
I recently watched a fascinating video about the complexities of the human brain and how selective our attention can be. The presenter gave specific instructions: "Count how many times the team in white passes the ball." Simple enough, right?
The video began, showing players in white uniforms and others in black, all passing basketballs to their teammates. Having seen similar psychological experiments before, I thought I was one step ahead. "Aha!" I mused smugly. "I know this trick. They'll ask about the black team's passes when it's over, trying to catch me unaware."
So rather than counting the white team's passes as instructed, I cleverly (or so I thought) tracked the black-clad team instead. I was feeling quite pleased with myself as the video concluded.
Then came the question that knocked me off my high horse: "Did you see the big bear moonwalking across the court?"
A Captive Audience
I'll never forget the first time I had to give a gospel presentation here in Wales. My hands trembled as I rearranged my notes, watching people file into the tiny community hall. I'd been looking forward to and dreading this day for weeks. Back in the States, I'd spoken to groups of ladies regularly, but here in this unfamiliar land, I felt painfully inadequate.
"Lord," I whispered, "I'm trapped. I can't back out now."
As I looked around the room at the expectant faces, a strange thought struck me. Was I trapped in this situation... or were they trapped with me?
That's when I remembered the Apostle Paul.
Picture this: Paul, the mighty missionary, chained to Roman guards day and night. Talk about being trapped!