Death by Balloons

A long while back, I posted about a balloon I had gotten in Sunday School. It was lemonade pink, and in the lesson my dad, the Sunday school teachers, demonstrated how the balloon represents us. He blew his balloon up to near bursting point. The air, he said, is what we fill our lives up with. It can be filled with God, or with worldly things. But if it is all filled up with earthly stuff, there’s not much room for God. And eventually, your life will become so filled with stuff that it will burst and you’ll be left with nothing. Or, if you fill it up with God, eventually you won’t be able to hold in all of the joy and blessings that He gives you and you will pop and spread the blessings to those around you. I kept that balloon in the front of my Bible as a small reminder that I pulled out every so often and blew up.

It’s been a few months though, since I last blew it up. As I opened my neglected Bible, I noticed it. It had a slight hole, but I covered it up and proceeded to blow up the balloon. Unfortunately, though it had reached the size of two footballs some months before, it popped as soon as it reached the size of my fist. The noise startled me, but I think I was most startled by the fact that it popped so small. Having been neglected, it had become fragile.

Thinking back to what it represented, it scared me a bit. It seems like I have done nothing but been scared the past few days. What if, because I have become relaxed in my Christian faith, I burst because I cannot hold it? What if right now I’m almost to breaking point, though I don’t know it? Something to think about…


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