Fix your eyes on Jesus when you feel without direction
"What does it take," someone asked a circus tightrope walker, "to do what you do?"
"Three things," he answered.
"Raw courage. You commit yourself to begin walking, and then you can't change your mind.
"Balance. You can't lean too far this way or that.
"Most of all, concentration. You fix your eyes on that wire, and until it's all over you never shift your attention."
He paused. Then --
"Never," he said firmly.
* * * * *
A radio psychologist in our area has a daily call-in show. Recently I happened to flip the dial, and this is what I heard:
"Doctor, I can't seem to stick with anything. I've had three marriages; before long each of them bored me. People say I have talents, but I go from one job to another; I don't seem to be able to hang in there."
"You know what's missing?"
"No, what?"
"Passion!"
"I started to get a college degree, but I ran out of money so I couldn't finish . . ."
"Nothing consumes you. Your life doesn't have any forward-moving energy."
"I started painting for a hobby once, but it took an awful lot of time, and I don't know . . ."
"Listen to me, pal, listen to me: what do you burn to do?"
For some reason at that moment I thought of sheep.
You know how a sheep is. He keeps his head down and goes nibble, nibble, nibble.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees a new tuft of grass; he moves four inches right . . . nibble, nibble.
Then out of the corner of his eye he sees another tuft; he moves six inches left . . . nibble, nibble.
When have you seen a sheep climb a tree, check the horizons, see where he's come from and where we wants to go, and climb down and strike out? Never.
(No wonder Isaiah 53:6 says, "All we like sheep have gone astray . . .") Are you identifying with a sheep? Do you pretty much live with your head down?
Now it's time to go to work . . .
Mustn't forget to pick up the pants at the cleaners . . .
It's five o'clock; wonder what I should fix for dinner . . .
It's Thursday and my book's due back to the library . . .
It's five minutes till time for the school bus . . .
Nibble, nibble, nibble . . .?
What consumes you? Where are you going? Have you pinpointed your aim? Does you life have a specific target?
You know, deep inside, what you need.
* * * * *
It's the look that saves, but it's the gaze that sanctifies.
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