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Jim McCrory

What It Means to Be Human: Who Decides?

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Thursday 5 March 2026 at 11:04

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What It Means to Be Human: Who Decides?

I woke today and prayed for something encouraging and specific to how I was feeling about this broken world. In the randomness, up came Psalm 1.

There are hundreds of opinions about what being human means. What are the Creator’s thoughts on this? The opening words of Book of Psalms begin with a picture. It is a simple one, yet it quietly sets the tone for everything that follows.

The psalm begins:

“Blessed is the one
who does not walk in step with the wicked
or stand in the way that sinners take
or sit in the company of mockers.”

There is a gentle progression in those words.

First we walk.
Then we stand.
Finally we sit.

Take something like pornography. It rarely begins with an intention to fall into addiction. An image appears on a screen; perhaps something suggestive, something easy to dismiss. We glance, then look again. Then peer.  Curiosity becomes habit. Habit deepens into something stronger. Before long the appetite grows, demanding something more explicit, more consuming.

And what began as a moment of curiosity slowly reaches further into life itself. Marriages strain and sometimes break. Children sense the change in the atmosphere of a home that no longer feels the same. What began as a passing glance quietly reshapes a family.

It reflects something true about human nature. We rarely move away from what is good in a single moment. More often, we drift. A step beside the wrong path becomes a pause. The pause becomes a place where we settle. The psalmist understands how easily the human heart grows comfortable in places it once would have passed by.

Yet the psalm quickly offers another image.

“That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither.”

In a dry land, streams often referred to carefully dug irrigation channels guiding water to the fields. The tree is planted where life can reach it. Its roots draw quietly from a steady source.

The result is not frantic growth but steady fruitfulness. The tree stands, season after season, nourished and alive.

Then the image changes.

“Not so the wicked!
They are like chaff
that the wind blows away.”

The scene shifts to a threshing floor. Farmers toss crushed wheat into the air so the grain falls back to the ground while the chaff—the empty husk—is carried away by the wind.

The contrast is striking.

The righteous are like a tree: rooted and nourished.
The wicked are like chaff: light and drifting.

The psalm is not only speaking about behaviour. It is speaking about substance. A tree has roots that reach down into life-giving water. Chaff has no roots at all. It moves wherever the wind carries it.

In this way the psalm quietly teaches something about what it means to be human. Our lives are shaped by the sources from which we draw our life. When we are rooted in what is good and true, fruit slowly appears. But when life is detached from its source, it becomes restless and weightless.

Before the rest of the psalms speak of joy, sorrow, fear, and hope, this first image remains before me: a tree beside flowing water, and chaff scattered on the wind.

And each life, in time, becomes one or the other.

He has shown you O mortal, what is good

And what does God require of you?

To act justly and to love mercy

And to walk humbly with your God.

Micah 6:8

*****

Verses from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV® Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011.  All rights reserved worldwide.

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Jim McCrory

Who Can I Trust?

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Sunday 14 September 2025 at 22:07

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Trust 

Mouths don’t empty themselves unless ears are sympathetic and knowing.


Zora Neale Hurston’s words strike at the heart of trust. They remind me that speaking is not merely the act of moving the lips but of revealing the soul. To speak honestly, we need to believe the listener is kind, attentive, and free of malice. Without that trust, silence feels safer.

There are few people I trust. I withdraw from those who gossip, stir up strife, or fabricate stories. Words used recklessly wound the spirit and poison the atmosphere. I’ve also learned to distance myself from those who go through life in a minor key, whose cynicism and bitterness drag down others. Such company clouds the mind and burdens the heart.

I remember one day walking with a friend. The sea was calm, the gulls floating in the air as though suspended by invisible threads. Something about that quiet morning, the steady rhythm of our steps, and the absence of judgment in his presence made me speak of a grief I had carried for years. I had not intended to, but the words came, almost surprising myself. His silence was not empty but attentive; a sympathetic ear that allowed the mouth to empty itself. I walked home lighter that day, reminded that trust, when given wisely, is like setting down a heavy stone.

Of course, this guardedness sometimes makes people feel rejected. Withdrawal is easily misunderstood, and those who feel left out may turn their hurt into anger. But I cannot live at the mercy of every reaction. I would rather walk the quiet road of Psalm 1:

“Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat of mockers.
But his delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law he meditates day and night.”

The psalmist points to a pathway of rootedness; a life nourished by trust in God rather than the shifting soil of human chatter. To delight in God’s law is to rest in His wisdom, to trust that His ear is always sympathetic and knowing, even when human ears are not.

Trust, then, becomes a sacred choice. I give it sparingly, not out of bitterness, but out of discernment. I want to place my words in the care of those who will not trample them but treasure them. To share myself fully is a gift, and gifts deserve reverent hands.

So, I keep company with the psalmist and with those rare few who listen well. For in the presence of a truly sympathetic ear, the mouth empties its burdens, the soul feels lighter, and trust finds a home.

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