I love the mountains. And I hate them. When I am away from them, sometimes I miss them. When I am at them I sometimes long for bigger mountains to climb. I love seeing mountains in the distance. I love being on top of them seeing the plains from up top. They fill me with awe, if you allow me to use that strong of a word. Mighty rocks tearing out of the plains, going straight up for several hundreds, or even thousand meters. It makes me feel small, and it displays God as big. Continue reading
A boy was out walking in the mountains with his father. Somewhere along the journey, he suddenly ran off on his own for some exploring. Ripping loose from his fathers grip, he ran quickly towards some exciting terrain, where he had been told not to go. The last thing he heard, was his father crying out, “Don’t go there!” Then he fell down into a narrow crevice.
All those things in the title are things I love, and at the same time it all somehow connects to my weekend. I usually write blogposts on Sundays, but I will be stepping down from doing it religiously, and post more when I feel like I have something to say (or more like want to say.) Anyways, let me tell you about bird safari, #Mission14 and how those two connect. Continue reading
I have been two weeks apart from my friend, internet. Not really—he is everywhere—but our internet at home took a break for a couple of weeks. So when I woke up these last Sunday mornings and were about to write something new on this blog, I remembered, “ah, no internet, let’s enjoy the freedom.” More book reading and socialising followed, and less time wasted on youtube. In particular, one thing happened that I would like to share. Continue reading
Let’s face it. If there is no life after death, life before death is useless. All we work for will be left behind. We might leave something good for the next generation, but they too will live in what we left them for only a while, and then they too will be gone. If death is the end, we have no hope and no purpose. That is one reason I love Jesus so much. He provides what we are looking for.
It is Easter weekend once again, and once again the Facebook feed is spammed with pictures of this bloody man being murdered—at least if you have Christian friends. He is dying on a cross—probably history’s most painful way of execution and the origin of the English word “excruciating”. He is whipped until bones are revealed to the daylight, and nails are driven through his hands and feet. How in the whole world can this macabre scene have any relevance to people living their lives 2000 years apart from it. Continue reading