When I was born I was given a sailboat. My sailboat was securely anchored in a little harbor . While I spent all my time on this boat, it always remained firmly anchored. I was told that it was to dangerous to leave. There were so many wrong directions to take, so many storms that could sink me, so many ways to get lost. Better to stay anchored in my little harbour. I felt safe there in my little sailboat. For a long time that was enough. I learned from the other sailors in my harbor to work hard to keep my sailboat looking its best. We all spent our time shining up the outside of those boats. Sometimes we would be so desperate to have a shiny boat that we would toss our mess on to someone else’s boat. Most times we would just take the mess below deck and shove it in a corner since it was important that the harbor stayed clean as well. We wanted it to be attractive to those sailors out in the ocean so they would also want to come stay in the harbor. After awhile it started to get real messy inside my sailboat, it was harder to live in it. I began to listen to some of the sailors who came and stopped in our harbor. I heard stories of beautiful lands and incredible journeys. I saw sailors full of joy. Was that even possible? They should have been stressed and discontented away from our safe haven. But I could not deny the joy and the longing which stirred in my own soul to see the things that they talked about for myself. Some in my harbor cautioned me to never listen to those sailors, they could lead me to lose my safety. Some tried to stop sailors from coming into the harbor, but I raised my anchor just a little so I could be at the edge of the open ocean. From there I continued to listen to the sailors and their tales. I especially listened to the ones who told of an ocean vast with unexplored paradise, of the feeling of wind in the sails, and a wide open horizon in all directions. My conversations with the ocean goers had changed, no longer was I trying to convince them to stay in the harbor. My fellow harborites did not like this. They said, you must tell the ocean goers that they will be killed, that they can only be safe in the harbor. But finally, I worked up the courage to say that I thought everyone was safe, that the ocean was on our side. The harbormasters said that I must not say this to the other harborites or everyone would leave and be dashed on the rocks, or sink. I knew they were wrong and I knew I wanted the joy that I saw in the ocean goers, so I pulled up my anchor and let my sailboat drift into the ocean. But I didn’t know how to really sail, except from watching the ocean goers. Pretty soon I was a long way from anything familiar, adrift in a vast ocean of grace. The