Falling Branches

I went to Ghyll Church in Barnoldswick to hear some bell ringers. It was a bleak, rainy day and tall trees initially provided some shelter from the wet. Yet a sign affixed to one warned of falling branches, a fate worse that merely getting damp hair or rain drops cascasding off one's nose. Whether this was just good, general advice, or branches had previously fallen upon unwary heads, I could not tell. I ignored the warning, correctly calculating that the brevity of my visit would mitigate the risk and justify the pleasure of the bells.

Leaving the house entails danger. Remaining in the house entails risk. Going to church opens one up to danger. Avoiding church poses danger. Thank God, He guards His people; even when they die of whatever kills them, it is only with His permission and greater purpose.

My times are in thy hand: deliver me from the hand of mine enemies, and from them that persecute me. Ps 31:15

A. D