More than twenty hours on planes, and a similar amount of time in cars on increasingly awful roads, plus a full-on schedule- all in the last ten days or so- have left me with an ability to fall asleep at the drop of a hat. And the first twinges of sciatica, noted before I left for Kenya, have blossomed ( helped by sitting so long in planes and cars) into something painful, which requires painkillers and a therapist.
Ah yes, the joys of travel! Or not, as here. I'm paying the price of increasing age, tired after a hectic trip, reminded that I am no longer twenty nine, and that occasions like this recent trip bring home to me, in spite of enthusiasm for the enterprise and its tasks, that there is a price to pay.
That pithy saying 'there's no such thing as a free lunch' still remains true. As I look back over the weeks of the kingdom season I am reminded of the benefits I enjoy today at the hands, the work, the prayers, the sacrifice, of others. Remembrance Day, All Saints, the feast of Christ the King- all bring home to me that my present freedom to live in material peace and security was at cost to others. Supremely in the kingship of One who reigns from the cross.
'It was for freedom that Christ has set us free' wrote St Paul to the small band of Christians in Galatia, followers of The Way in an ocean of paganism. It was their remembrance of Who had paid the price for that freedom which made it actual and real, when so many, in their daily lives, were subject to masters who many not treat them with any degree of kindness or consideration, or freedom of any sort. Those early Christians rejoiced in their essential freedom, thankful for a price paid, and the consequences it had for them, and for the world.
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