There are few things in life more exhilarating than experiencing your smallness or significance by looking up and seeing a starry night.

Years ago, I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro and saw the most outstanding sea of stars. The climb was hard and seeing that freedom, and being so grounded made me long for escape. Being in the ‘down here’ was just too hard. I want to be in the ‘up there’. Free.

Going back was as hard as going on. To climb higher was harder, to go back was further. On this mountain, in this openness, I felt trapped.

Do you sometimes feel this way, when you can't go back, but you also feel like you can't go on?

Over the years the church has painted a similar a picture. Being in the ‘down here’ is just too hard. It's call has been to escape into the mysterious beyond, to jump the mystic fence, where life in the heavens is better.

And how truly can this same idea been seen across all walks of life. People needing to attain their escape in one way or another and leap across to the lawn where the grass seems to be greener.

We all have fences we want to jump. Think for a moment about yours. What are the things, the people and situations that make you want to jump?

But what about the things that keep you rooted, connected and committed to the here and now?

What or who is it that makes you want to stay in the 'down here' in the tough stuff? What is the story or sense of purpose or vocation that provides the power and energy to keeping on going for the long haul?

I think life is rather different from the escape plan that drives so many people. I think life is a something a little more gritty and down to earth. I think seeds in the soil, unlike the stars in the sky, draw us to the difficult and a deeper sense of purpose.

Robert Louis Stevenson said this:
'Don’t judge each day by the harvest you reap but by the seeds you plant'

Oasis is driven by a story, not an escape plan but a slow, relentless commitment to transformation from the ground up. The Bible calls this the ‘kingdom of God’ and says it is just like a seed, thats planted and grows to be tallest tree and birds find rest in it’s branches.

It’s a place where justice, equality, kindness, inclusion and commitment to people are rife, in the ‘down here’, in the right now and in the tough stuff. Where hands are dirty and bodies tired but our souls and nature are electrified with purpose.

If the story you are connected to is driven by a desire to escape, you become disconnected from the moment and relationships you’re in. The challenge for us is to find that rootedness in our own lives and help our students or the people we work with find it in theirs.

There are few things in life more exhilarating than experiencing your smallness or significance by looking up and seeing a starry night.

Years ago, I climbed Mount Kilimanjaro and saw the most outstanding sea of stars. The climb was hard and seeing that freedom, and being so grounded made me long for escape. Being in the ‘down here’ was just too hard. I want to be in the ‘up there’. Free.

Going back was as hard as going on. To climb higher was harder, to go back was further. On this mountain, in this openness, I felt trapped.

Do you sometimes feel this way, when you can't go back, but you also feel like you can't go on?