The
Anchor and the kite
Audio version:
The
late afternoon breeze brought a much needed coolness to where we lived not far
from the edge of the Thar desert in NW India.
The remaining heat in the air had a scent, almost as if the baking of
the air was now complete and you could smell it was well done. The sand was warm but no longer hot and my
four year old feet could run bare on its’ surface released until
nightfall. It was a magical time,
people sitting on their doorsteps, the line of smoke from cooking fires - a
timeless feature from Afghanistan to Burma-, father’s returning tired from the
field and the cattle being brought in.
It was also the time for kite flying and one of my earliest memories is
of the crispy, crackling texture of a small kite made of purple crepe paper
tied onto four twigs, with a long piece of twine. My friends and I would run around the grounds
pulling our kites behind us, holding them aloft by the sheer speed of our
running until we ran out of space or puff.
Then
we had the idea of going onto the flat roof of the house. There were
6ft high domes that dotted the expanse which included the roof of our
neighbours the Mukand’s. By getting on
top of one of the domes we caught the breeze and soon four domes each had a
small boy holding onto a rather flimsy and pathetic looking kites with a fierce
pride and wild joy.. No more running,
the breeze did all the work for us, but we had to stop ourselves from slipping
down the slope of the dome. We could
have done with someone to anchor us but balanced as best we could. We stayed up
as the sun sank slowly from a dazzling glare to magenta and into the velvet
dark.
The freedom and exhilaration of kite
flying expresses itself when we explore, take risks, follow dreams and ask
questions. When we have the courage to
hope and open our hearts to love and pay the price of the hurt it can bring. When we stake everything on what is invisible,
on a God we cannot see but whom we cannot live without. When we press on into that God, higher up and
deeper in, wanting more of Him even if
it means letting go of control of what we hold dear, trusting him with what is
most precious to us. When we take Jesus’
words seriously as words to build a life on, even if it means being buried like
a seed or dying to self, taking up our cross and following him even if it seems
no one else is doing that. The freedom
of kite flying and on the edge living for God are only possible however if
there is an anchor.
The hard won securities of faith are
seasoned in conflict and struggle. The
intimate experiences of God whom we have allowed access to the deepest secrets
of our lives are precious to us.
Wrestling with the bible and doctrine means sticking at it until we
emerge chastened and blessed. Together
all these give us an anchor so we can say with Peter…’To whom shall we go, you
have the words of eternal life’. An
anchor allows us to keep our feet when we are in danger of losing our
balance. It keeps us tethered to church
and community and saves us from drifting solo on the tempting but fickle air
currents of contemporary values and trends.
It allows us to ask questions and difficult ones at that, because kites
can fly really high and we may want to see just how far we can go in pushing
the boundaries of faith and God. But is
also reminds us that questions for questions sake, that have no real
willingness to accept answers we do not like can become like a kite that comes
loose and is no longer a kite but a piece of paper flapping in the wind.
For the anchor is what makes the kite
a kite and not just aerial flotsam. The
acrobatics and aerial displays that kids all over north India indulge in during
the kite flying season playfully ride the wind anchored to a small boys safe in their Father’s arms. Celebrate your faith, fly a kite for Jesus.
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