Its great to watch storms from the safety of the shore. These crashing waves we could track for miles out to sea, making their relentless way to the beach. There's an excitement, a suspense, an awe inspiring, breath catching chasm in witnessing their unspent fury. And it was never ending. As one wave smashed onto the sand, others followed on, gathering momentum, boiling up a heady brew. Where did their journey begin? What havoc did they wreak on their way? What devastation did they leave behind?
This epiphany - tide, I can't help but see a parallel with those "wise men" who showed up to worship the baby born in Bethlehem's stable and who left such a trail of destruction. We like to remember the wise men but, too often, gloss over the massacre of the innocents and the flight into Egypt that their blunderings precipitated. We don't know where their journey began and we know only a little of the havoc they wreaked on the way. We also know, to our discomfort that some of our best intentions bring about chaos. And yet to never ever cause a ripple is surely a much greater catastrophe than riding out the storms.