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Where Will You Be in 1000 Years?

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Wednesday 18 February 2026 at 10:21

 

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“You cannot claim to be truthful until you have had the chance to lie.
You cannot claim to be faithful until breaking your word would benefit you.
You cannot claim to love your neighbour until loving him costs you something.”

Where Will You Be in 1000 Years?

 

I have often felt that I was born in the wrong place.

I don’t mean the small industrial town where I first opened my eyes. That was only a backdrop — brick, smoke, cold mornings, familiar streets. What I mean is something harder to explain. I have often felt out of step with the spirit of the age.

There is a way of living today that feels empty to me. People are quick to speak, slow to listen, ready to take advantage if it can be done without consequence. I see it in the news, in families, in business, sometimes, in politics even in some religions. And though I am far from innocent myself, something in me resists it. I feel as though I was meant for a different moral climate as many do.

Psalm 15 has always felt like a description of that climate. Go on, read it with me. You will find it her,

Psalm 15 VOICE - Psalm 15 - A song of David. A recurring - Bible Gateway

It asks a simple question: who is fit to dwell in that place God, the Eternal one, has prepared for faithful members of the human family? And the answer is not dramatic. It speaks of a person who walks uprightly. When it says, “He who walks uprightly,” it is speaking about a way of life, not a single action. To “walk” in Scripture means one’s daily conduct—the steady direction of life. To walk uprightly means to live with integrity, moral wholeness, and consistency before God. It suggests a person whose choices, habits, and relationships are shaped by righteousness, not convenience—someone whose life is straight, not crooked, and whose character remains steady whether seen or unseen. who speaks the truth from the heart.

To “speak the truth from the heart” means more than simply avoiding lies; it describes a person whose inner life and outward words agree. Truth is not spoken as a performance or convenience, but flows naturally from a sincere, upright heart before God. It is honesty rooted in integrity—where what one believes, intends, and says are aligned without deception or hidden motive. who keeps his word even when it costs him. A person who does not use others for gain.

When the Psalm says the righteous person “does not slander with his tongue” (or “does not speak evil against others”), it refers to someone who refuses to harm another’s name or reputation through careless, exaggerated, or malicious words. It is restraint rooted in love—choosing not to pass along gossip, distort facts, or speak with the intent to wound. This kind of person understands the weight of speech and guards it, knowing that words can either tear down or protect. It reflects a heart that values justice, mercy, and the dignity of others.

It is a picture of steady, ordinary goodness.

If there is to be a new earth — and I believe there will be — it cannot be filled with the same spirit we see now. A world made right would require people who have learned to live rightly. People who love their neighbour. People who can be trusted when no one is watching.

But that raises a hard question.

If those are the kinds of people who inherit that future world, why must they live so long in this present one? Why sixty or seventy years here first?

I have come to think of this life as a kind of garden where we are sent to move freely while God watches — not harshly, but patiently. In this garden we make thousands of small choices. Most of them seem ordinary. But slowly, those choices shape us.

You cannot claim to be truthful until you have had the chance to lie.
You cannot claim to be faithful until breaking your word would benefit you.
You cannot claim to love your neighbour until loving him costs you something.

Time reveals us. It also forms us.

Perhaps that is why we are here so long. Not because God delights in difficulty, but because character takes time. You see, if I was to say I am stronger than you could arm wrestle and settle the matter.  But what if I said I am more honest than you? It would take both our lifetimes to settle. Moral issues take time. Psalm 15 people are not born fully grown. They are shaped through years of quiet decisions — often unnoticed, often unrewarded.

When I feel out of place in this world, I am tempted to think I have been born in the wrong era. But maybe that feeling itself is part of the shaping. Maybe this world is not home — but it is preparation.

The new earth, if it comes, will not simply be given to whoever happens to be there. It will belong to those who have learned how to live in it — those who have practiced truth, mercy, and steadfast love in a harder land.

I do not pretend to be such a person yet. I am still learning. Still failing. Still choosing.

But perhaps these years are not wasted.

Perhaps they are the proving ground for the kind of people who can live forever in peace.

 

Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.

Matthew 6:10

KJV

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Jim McCrory

Good Morning Nigeria! Ubuntu; That's a Special Word

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Monday 23 December 2024 at 06:52

 

"Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." — Matthew 6:10 (BSB).

There’s a beautiful Nigerian word, Ubuntu, that captures something we all deeply need: connection. It means, “I am because we are.” It’s the idea that our humanity is bound up in one another, that life is better when we’re connected and caring for each other. But as I look around today, I can’t help but wonder: where has Ubuntu gone? Families feel more fractured, friendships thinner, and nations more divided than ever. What’s happened to the glue that holds us together?

Let’s talk about it.


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You don’t have to look far to see how much the world has changed. Time was, life revolved around the community—families, villages, neighbours who leaned on each other. Today, it feels like everyone’s running their own race. "Look out for number one" has replaced "How can I help?" We’ve shifted from thinking about “we” to focusing on “me.”

A lot of this comes from the push toward individualism. Now, don’t get me wrong—there’s something beautiful about being able to stand on your own feet and make your own choices. But when that becomes the priority, it’s easy to lose sight of the bigger picture. We forget how much we need each other.

Think about how much technology has changed our lives. We’ve never been more connected, at least on the surface. You can send a message across the world in seconds, share a photo, or video call someone continents away. And yet, we’re lonelier than ever.

Why? Because scrolling through social media isn’t the same as sitting across the table from someone. Likes and comments can’t replace a hug or the sound of laughter in the same room. Technology is a tool, but it’s also a trap—it’s easy to get so caught up in it that we forget how to truly connect.

Then there’s the way work and money pull us apart. These days, people move across the country—or the world—for jobs, leaving family and friends behind. It’s great to have opportunities, but it comes at a cost. You can’t pop by your parents’ house for dinner if they’re on one side of the globe and you’re on the other.

And let’s not forget the stress that comes with trying to make ends meet. When you’re working two jobs or worrying about bills, there’s little time left for meaningful relationships. Money problems have a way of driving wedges between people, whether it’s couples, families, or whole communities.

Remember when extended families lived close together, or when neighbourhoods felt like little villages? That’s becoming rare. Divorce rates are up, families are spread thin, and many people don’t even know their neighbours’ names.

Churches and community groups, which used to be places where people came together, are shrinking in many parts of the world. We’ve traded these deep-rooted connections for more surface-level ones, often built around shared interests rather than shared lives.

And then there’s the elephant in the room: politics. It feels like the world has become one big shouting match, with people taking sides and refusing to listen to anyone who disagrees. Social media only makes it worse, feeding us opinions that match our own and making “the other side” seem like enemies.

On a global scale, nationalism is on the rise. Instead of coming together to tackle big issues—climate change, poverty, pandemics—we’re retreating behind borders, focusing on “us” and “them.” It’s hard to feel connected to the wider world when the message is all about division.

So, where do we go from here? Is it possible to rebuild what we’ve lost? I think so. But it’s going to take effort.

We need to start small, with the people around us. Check in on a neighbour. Call an old friend. Spend time with family—not just on holidays, but regularly. It’s these little things that rebuild the connections we’ve let slip away.

We also need to rethink how we use technology. Instead of letting it replace real relationships, we can use it to enhance them—planning meetups, sharing moments, and staying in touch when distance keeps us apart.

And maybe we need to slow down. Life moves fast, but relationships take time. It’s okay to stop chasing the next big thing and focus on the people right in front of you.

Ubuntu reminds us that none of us can truly thrive alone. We’re at our best when we’re together, supporting each other, and looking out for the greater good. The world might feel fractured now, but if we each do our part—if we each live like we believe, “I am because we are”—we can start to put the pieces back together.

It’s not too late to reconnect. The question is: will we? We are reminded that,

 "Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. For if one falls down, his companion can lift him up; but pity the one who falls without another to help him up!"

Ecclesiastes 4: 9 (BSB).



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