Tip of My Iceberg

John teases me a lot about not being observant.

I confess, I’m a bit of a daydreamer. I’ve had folks tell me they see me drive by on the street, and they’re hopping up and down, waving, calling my name.

I hear and see nothing.

But there are those times when things seem downright obvious. Even I get that.

On our recent trip to New Mexico to be a part of my friend, Penny’s, wedding, I was amazed at all the adobe fences and buildings that dot the landscape. It’s obvious that these structures keep out the heat and maintain a cool interior in the high, dry heat of that state.

We visited Taos, an eclectic city with a multitude of Native American artisans and the remnants of an old Pueblo settlement.

These homes, which have been around for a couple of hundred years, were all built with the clay common to the area.

Sturdy. With an air of permanence. You could pretty much count on these puppies to stay put.

Even their fences had seen a lot of wear–and were no worse for the wear.

Dependable.

What really stumped me was driving through town and seeing fences that were made with little more than sticks. And they were everywhere.

I’m not sure what they were for. It’s certain they’d not keep a whole lot in–or out.

Flimsy. Temporary. Not made to last. Possibly going for a look. More like a Hollywood set piece than real life. All appearance; no substance.

That would be my battle.

I want what I do in life to make a difference. To count for something beyond me. Sure I have those days of self-serving narcissism when I want everything to be all about me.

We all do.

There’s nothing substantially satisfying, though, in me being the center of my universe. It’s annoying to others.

And downright lonely.

It’s me standing on the sand at the ocean’s edge. When the waves wash onto the shore, all hints that I’d been there are washed away.

No lasting impression.

If what I do will ever matter, I need to rethink how and why I do it.

As to how I attempt something, I need to do it to the best of my ability. With excellence.

The adobe fence. Not the rickety stick fence.

Why I do it matters even more. My perspective has to be bigger. Better.

“Finally, dear brothers and sisters, we urge you in the name of the Lord Jesus to live in a way that pleases God, as we have taught you. You live this way already, and we encourage you to do so even more.” I Thessalonians 4:1

Excel still more. Not to make me look good, but to honor the One who made me.

On my own, I’m only the rickety fence. Weak. Lousy on follow-through. Procrastination is my middle name.

Jesus makes me the adobe fence. Stronger. Sturdier. Able to withstand the hard stuff.

What are you built of?