For most everyone living in a city of any size.. RUSH HOUR is a part of your day commute. Bumper to bumper traffic with each car filled with people from all over the city living their own lives in their own neighborhoods, their own way but sharing this joint experience on the roads and rails traveling to and from their jobs. They are EVERYWHERE like ants descending on an unprotected picnic basket each there for their take, then back to home sweet (ant hill) home.
But in this moment of rush hour madness I pondered the complexity of our 'ant farm like' society. On just one city road (in a world of countless other roads just as busy as this one), carrying so many drivers and passengers in this great big TERARRIUM called Earth... and I am just ONE of the many ants living in a northern city/ant-hill suburb of Minneapolis Minnesota. This ant hill sits right next to another big ant-hill/city St Paul.
Are you feeling SMALL and INSIGNIFICANT YET and maybe a bit creeped out by this bug analogy? Sorry, my bad.
It is mind boggling to grasp in contrast to any colony of ants.. each of our lives are important and significant in God's eyes. So during this rush hour moment with all of God's people, I prayed a broad prayer for everyone so busy in rush hour in all directions for safe journeys, a successful day, blessed and led by God. I took time to ponder the significance of each life in the eyes of God. This moment of prayer was peace, perspective and thanksgiving for me in recognition of all God's people.
This was admittedly a strange analogy, but you are reading a blog by Jeff the cartoonist not C.S. Lewis... that sorta rhymes.
My prayer today if for all of you out there. May the realization of your significance to God, and the blessings of God be in ways that are truly beyond your dreams.
may He keep you safe from those who would attempt to step on your ant hill, and that kid with the magnifying glass trying to burn you up.
But I digress
Jeff (Ants in the Back Pew) Larson
The mutterings on life and faith by cartoonist Jeff Larson