Travelling down the A675 from the M65 to Bolton is a little bit like travelling through the sea. It’s not the reservoirs you pass on the way, but the moorland creeping right up to the road, and rolling away to each side. It’s like making your way along a strip of dry land across the ocean.
But it isn’t a prom. I think it is a taunt to put a road at the edge of the sea, cocking a snook at the water, saying ‘you can go this far, but no further.’ I wonder if that’s what people are doing when they come and park at Rossall Prom, with their tartan flasks, and watch the waves coming in, and the dogs taking their owners for walks.
The sea does roar back from time to time. The road at Anchorsholme prom will be a few yard higher, I think, when they finish the repairs, because it is being eaten away. Not so concrete after all.
If we are not careful, we will think we dwell in castles designed to last a life-time. We don’t. When Jesus pointed out that he was a refugee, without anywhere to lay his head, he was telling us we are too. As followers of Jesus, we should know that. It may not be as obvious to those who do not acknowledge faith, or who do not recognise who Jesus is.
‘Swept up,’ is something we use to describe the destiny of rubbish that has accumulated on the street. ‘Swept up,’ though, is also a description of our ultimate destiny, it is how we join up with Jesus, graphically, when he returns.
I did intend to blog about trams and trains and tracks, but got diverted onto roads and proms, and then was reminded we are destined to fly.