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Jim McCrory

A Love That Does Not Dissapoint

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Thursday 30 July 2026 at 19:44

 

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A Love That Does Not Dissapoint

A terminal cancer diagnosis changes more than the body. Quietly, almost imperceptibly, it changes the way other people see you.

Those who once seemed distant or distracted often reveal a gentleness you never knew existed. It is as though a curtain has been drawn aside and a softer light has entered the room.

Hormone and chemo therapy, intended to hold the disease at bay, brings its own peculiar burdens. Irritability can arrive without warning. Memory becomes unreliable, blurring the edges of thought. Unwanted reflections circle endlessly through the mind, and a profound weariness settles into the bones. Sometimes an unexpected question whispers through the day: 'Should I let nature take its final journey?''

Yet while the body struggles, something else begins to happen.

Doctor's surgeries, hospital corridors, consulting rooms, and even chance encounters on the street seem to move to a different rhythm. The world itself has not changed, but people often do. It is as though an unseen conductor has raised his baton and invited everyone to play more gently.

Strangers offer kindness without being asked. Casual acquaintances step forward with remarkable loyalty. Nurses, consultants and receptionists who could easily treat you as another appointment pause, listen and give something beyond professional duty. The ordinary world begins to glow with unexpected grace.

Not everyone responds this way, of course. Some continue through life as though separated from the suffering of others by a sheet of glass, absorbed in their own concerns. Yet even they have something to teach us. Their indifference throws compassion into sharper relief, reminding us that kindness is never ordinary. It is a gift.

The greatest surprise is this: the world has not suddenly become kinder. The kindness was always there. It is simply that illness strips away many of life's distractions and allows us to notice what was previously hidden. Compassion has always been woven into the fabric of humanity. We just do not always see it.

A terminal diagnosis is therefore more than a summons to confront mortality. It also offers a rare vantage point from which to observe humanity itself. From that place you discover that people are capable of astonishing tenderness. The world is both selfish and generous, broken and beautiful, brutal and compassionate.

And in the end, one truth rises above all the others:

'What a person desires is love that does not dissapoint.'

— Proverbs 19:22

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Jim McCrory

The Rise of the Me: A Personal Reflection on Humanity

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Edited by Jim McCrory, Thursday 3 October 2024 at 02:39



 “Don’t let selfishness and prideful agendas take over. 

Embrace true humility and lift your heads

 to extend love to others.” 

Philippians 2:3

The Voice



Image by https://unsplash.com/@radiodj888


The Rise of Individualism: A Personal Reflection on Humanity and the Role of Humility

 

I was thinking about yesterday's post  and had some wider thoughts to consider. At 68, I’ve lived long enough to see the world change in ways that I could never have anticipated in my younger years. When I look back at the decades I’ve witnessed, I realize how much the rise of individualism has shaped the course of modern life. What strikes me now is how individualism, which was once seen as a pathway to freedom and self-expression, has evolved into something that feels both empowering and isolating. It’s a paradox that’s been playing out throughout my life: the more we focus on ourselves, the more disconnected we seem to become.

This tension between the self and others is something I find myself reflecting on, especially considering Philippians 2:3: “Don’t let selfishness and prideful agendas take over. Embrace true humility and lift your heads to extend love to others.” As I’ve watched individualism take root, I’ve also observed how easy it is for selfishness and pride to slip into our lives unnoticed. But it wasn’t always this way, or at least, it didn’t always seem so obvious.

Looking back, I think the seeds of this individualistic mindset were planted well before my time, but it was the Protestant Reformation that truly set the stage for the modern focus on the self. Martin Luther’s insistence on a personal relationship with God liberated people from the hierarchy of the Church, giving us each a direct line to the Divine, which was spiritually liberating from religious confinement, I can understand the appeal of that—it’s a deeply personal, intimate faith. But over time, that personal faith became more about my relationship with God than about our shared responsibilities to one another. 

By the time the Enlightenment thinkers came along, the individual had become the focus of not just art but of politics, philosophy, and society itself. I remember learning about figures like John Locke and Rousseau in earlier years and their ideas about human rights and personal freedoms. It made sense to me then—and still does—that every person has worth, that each of us is deserving of liberty. But over the years, I’ve seen this focus on individual rights begin to overshadow something equally important: our responsibility to one another. When we’re all fighting to assert our rights, who’s left to care for the community? Who’s willing to look up, as Philippians says, and extend love?

It wasn’t long before these ideas found their way into our economy. I’ve seen the rise of capitalism over my lifetime, and with it, a shift toward measuring people’s worth by what they can achieve materially. As a young man growing up in the Clydeside, I watched as the results of the Industrial Revolution gave way to the rise of the self-made individual. The message was clear: success is something you earn, and it’s yours to enjoy. And yet, as people chased their own success, I saw communities begin to fray. The tight-knit neighbourhoods of my childhood, where people knew each other and looked out for one another, were gradually replaced by a more fragmented way of living. People became more mobile, moving where the opportunities were, but in doing so, they left behind the social bonds that once held us together.

 Now, in my late sixties, the digital age has taken individualism to a whole new level. I’ve watched as social media has given people unprecedented control over how they present themselves to the world. There’s a kind of freedom in that, sure—but it comes with a cost. I’ve seen it in my own life, and I’ve seen it in the lives of others: we’re more connected than ever, but we’re also more alone. When I was younger, relationships were built face-to-face, in shared spaces. Today, it feels like we’re all living in our own little worlds, connected digitally but disconnected in every other way. There’s a kind of selfishness in this, a subtle pride in crafting the perfect online persona. But where is the humility? Where is the willingness to lift our heads and see the person next to us, to extend love to them in real, tangible ways?

As I reflect on these changes, I keep returning to Philippians 2:3. It’s a challenge to the world we’ve created—a world that too often lets selfishness and pride take over. The verse calls us to something deeper, something more meaningful than the pursuit of individual success. It calls us to humility, to love, to community. As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to realize how vital that message is, not just for my own life but for the world we’re leaving behind for future generations.

The rise of individualism has brought us many blessings—freedom, personal expression, the recognition of human rights. But it’s also led us away from the heart of what it means to live in true community. As I’ve watched the world change over the decades, I’ve seen how easy it is to get caught up in My life, My needs, My rights. But as I reflect on what Paul writes in Philippians, I’m reminded that we are called to something greater. We are called to live humbly, to lift our heads and extend love to those around us.

 

As I step back and look at the path we’ve taken, I can’t help but wonder if it’s time to reconsider the balance. Individualism has brought us far, but I believe the way forward is not in retreating into ourselves but in rediscovering the beauty of living for others. That’s what I’ve learned over these 68 years: the greatest joy, the greatest fulfilment, comes not from what I’ve done for myself but from how I’ve lifted others along the way.

Some who know me, may look at my flaws and judge by the negative, but this is the opposite of the  glass-half-full point of this essay and not the glass-half-empty approach; to see the inner beauty of our fellow humans made in God's image.  We fail at times, and we seek love, forgiveness, and the right to brush ourselves down and get on with the job of fulfilling Paul’s words at Philippians, it is the route to happiness.


Scripture taken from The Voice™. Copyright © 2012 by Ecclesia Bible Society. Used by permission. All rights reserved.


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