Phil Strong
My grass is thickening fast this spring, fuelled by unpredictable rains that flip blue skies to grey in a heartbeat, leaving me forever guessing what the day demands next. Mower or umbrella? Gumboots or sunglasses? This season keeps me on my toes.
Phil Strong
Change arrives like that, too. In waves. Inconsistent ones.
Waipa has a new mayor and fresh councillors. Already, the landscape feels different. For some, discomfort brews. For others, quiet confidence stirs. Change crashes ashore anyway, indifferent to our preference.
I’ve lived in small towns off and on—parochial fortresses, conservative to their core, often glued in place against the tide. There’s a kind of stubborn charm in that resistance, but it can also become a trap.
I remember one community leader who leaned in, eyes earnest, insisting every family deserved a quarter-acre dream. That same week, a 20-something entrepreneur told me he’d never own a lawnmower. “Why would I?” he laughed. “I don’t want to spend weekends pushing a machine around a patch of grass.” Two visions. One town. Change is very personal.
Those who work with me—and those who live with me—know I chase transformation headlong. Abrasive as 60-grit sandpaper, built for rapid results. I’m not one to wait for consensus. Time’s too short.
Jesus was about change in a big way. Intentional to the core. Unwavering in purpose, yet delightfully diverse in delivery. A 60-grit carpenter’s son causing splinters. His time was short. He didn’t wait for consensus.
He reframed eternal truths and shook the church awake, challenging us all to “see afresh.” Sin wasn’t defined in a distant rulebook, it was the raw harm we do to each other. His invitation was simple: walk away from it. He drew friends aside to recline in hidden peace – bread, wine, no chasing crowds for favour.
That’s the rhythmus: change with Him.
Change may sting sharp like a bee, pound relentless like surf on Raglan rocks, or cause whiplash from sudden changes in direction. Change is not always gentle. It’s rarely predictable. But it’s always moving.
To resist is futile. Change is stronger than your stubbornness. Try battling Raglan’s riptide and you’ll drown. Dig your heels in, and you’ll be swept away anyway. Or, as your daddy taught you, it’s safer to flow with it.
Keep your eyes locked on Jesus amid the swift current of change. Our communities drift when we lose that fixed point. The moral decline we see today didn’t begin with policy – it began when we took our eyes off Him. When we traded eternal perspective for temporary comfort.
Change with Jesus doesn’t erase discomfort. It reframes it. It doesn’t promise ease. It promises purpose. It invites us to participate, not just endure.
So maybe the point isn’t to fight the rhythmus of change, but to find meaning in its movement. To lean into the waves, eyes fixed on the One who whispers, “Peace. Be still.”
What if the change we fear is the very thing we need?
Phil Strong
