Life's Gentle Lessons

At 7:00 a.m. this morning, I broke the law of the land.

And, to boot, I didn’t even know it as I did it.

As usual, I left home for work at 6:45 a.m. Although school does not begin until 8:45 a.m., I relish the smooth ride to work in relatively lighter early morning traffic and the alone time I enjoy in my office, over a cup of hot coffee, doing paper work that needs my attention in the relaxing cadence of Mons’ tunes in deep basal stereophonic sound.

This morning, as I cornered north-east bound onto Disraeli’s Bridge from Main Street, I was totally booby-trapped in the glory of the rising sun fully blasted into my retinas. For a split moment, I was almost blinded to the road, the traffic, and the traffic lights in front of me, except my driving instinct, misguided by the half-ton truck in front of me in my lane.

I followed the vehicle and crossed the intersection as I have done so for the past 15 years, day after day. Although I could not see the traffic lights at all due to the intense sunlight that smacked me in the face, I made the erroneous assumption, through my daily experience, that the traffic lights would be green to go.

As I entered into the intersection, I realized it was w-a-y too late.

The strobe light of a radar photo cam flashed in my rear view mirror. I looked to my left and saw the traffic light sporting a bright red.

Instinctively, I slowed down from my 55 km-per-hour speed to close to a crawl, wishing I could crawl back to the other side of the intersection behind the camera.

My heart dropped. My pulse raced. I tightly steered the wheel as my head half-drooped in abject defeat.

The feeling of remorse and “too-late-to-go-back” was overwhelming! I felt like crying.

“How could I be so idiotic?” my mind churned in instant video replays.

Awaiting the $167 traffic violation fine that will be forthcoming in snail mail within the next three weeks, I am pressing hard into what object lessons I could have learned through this incident.

1. It could have been worse, such as causing a serious accident where life is endangered and properties are damaged.

2. It is, after all, just a traffic violation ticket that I'll get. No more, no less. If viewed in a different light, it is a $167 worth of a refresher course in defensive driving.

3. Regardless of my internal reaction to this event, be it a day of joyless heaviness as I have lived today, or an ability to rise above and place the event in its proper perspective against the endless array of ponderousness in life, I still have to wait for three weeks for the dreaded fine to arrive, like it or not.

4. Despite my best and feverish attempts at Googling the sizes of fines relative to the kinds of traffic violations and seeking advice from Manitoba Justice whether this would be a contestable case, I am immediately reminded of Proverb 3 : 5 – 7a where Solomon strongly brings me to my knees in humble submission: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your way straight… Do not be wise in your own eyes…”

5. This is not even close to the "It's Too Late; No Turning Back" scenario where I might find myself were I to spurn the grace and mercy of a loving God after His relentless pursuit of me with His love before the beginning of time. This temporal consequence will fade away and life on earth will eventually even out. However, the eternal consequence of turning away from God is irreversible, lamentable, and truly regrettable.

Is today's lesson worth learning even if it costs $167?

Meditatio

Debbie just told me how an on-line friend of hers, a deathly ill woman, has been so horribly mistreated by her husband in her illness and dire needs that, in my most callous moment, would consider that kind of human behaviour as beastly and evil.

Winnipeg has honestly earned its ill-repute as the murder capital in the nation as it has added onto its curriculum vitae four more murders in this past weekend.

A plot to blow up his high school in a Columbine-scale massacre by a fifteen-year-old boy in the U.S. was uncovered by his alert parents today.

One truly can’t help but shake one’s head and fatalistically wonder what everybody else has been wondering, “What has the world come to?”

American poet, Ezra Pound, deeply considered this troubling question over 70 years ago in his poetic judgment of human nature, "Meditatio".

"When I carefully consider the curious habits of dogs
I am compelled to conclude
That man is the superior animal.
When I consider the curious habits of man
I confess, my friend, I am puzzled."

How far have we fallen since Genesis 1!

“Let us make man in our image, in our likeness... So, God created man in His own image, in the image of God, He created him, male and female, He created them. (Genesis 1: 26, 27)

In His image! In His likeness!

Psalm 8 echoes the divine intent:

“When I consider Your heavens,
The work of Your fingers,
The moon and the stars,
Which You have set in place,
What is man that You are mindful of him,
The son of man that You care for him?
You made him a little lower than the heavenly beings
And crowned him with glory and honour.
You made him ruler over the works of Your hands;
You put everything under his feet:
All flocks and herds,
And the beasts of the field,
The birds of the air,
And the fish of the sea,
All that swim in the paths of the sea.” (Psalm 8: 3 - 8)

Nowhere did the Creator intend that man rules over one another and does atrocious acts to each other! Human nature turned horribly wrong and twisted at the first bite!

We disobeyed God and began a life-time of struggle between allegiance to God and our contorted propensity to satisfy our lust for “Me! Me! Me!” at the slightest prompting of the sneering enemy and the desires of the flesh.

We began a human journey in a twilight zone of time and space between the divine light of God and the sordid darkness of unspeakable evil, Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness".

Seemingly, we are forever thoroughly lost… Not so fast!

The Divine Drama did turn out to be “All’s well, ends well” as the following story tells.

The story narrates about two friends who were visiting a world famous art gallery in a big European city. As they went from one masterpiece to the next, they came upon one that depicts the dynamic tension brought about by two players at a game of chess.

One man, with a cigar in his fingers, blows a puff of smoke with a sneer of his broad grin, a grin that blares out that he has just made the final decisive unequivocal winning move. One can even hear the loud boastful yell across the airspace of the gallery: “Checkmate!”

The other player, with his face half-cupped in his hands, looks dejected, defeated, downcast, and soundly beaten. The painting is entitled, “Checkmate!”

While looking at the painting for some minutes, one of the pair was eager to move on to enjoy the hundred other works on display. But, this young man, a chess player himself, became so entranced by what he saw that he asked his friend to go on alone. He needed more time to appreciate this painting.

Fifteen minutes turned into thirty minutes. Thirty minutes turned into forty-five minutes. Forty-five minutes turned into an hour, while an hour turned rapidly into an-hour-and-a-half.

The young man was still looking intently at the game board and the positions of each piece as if he was retracing every single move of how the entire game had been played. All the while, he was making deliberate hand gestures as if he were strategically moving the game pieces and totally engaged in re-playing the game itself.

Lo and behold! Totally oblivious to him, a crowd of curious on-lookers had been watching the most peculiar behaviour of this seemingly enchanted art connoisseur for quite some time.

Almost two hours had elapsed when this young man awoke from an apparent trance and yelled jubilantly to himself, “This is not over! The king has one more move! The king has one more move!!”

Yes. Against the backdrop of sin, corruption, hopelessness, desperation, despair, loss, wickedness and unspeakable evil in this world, God is in solid control and majestic sovereignty because “The King has one more move!”

In the end, the Good Guy wins!

Quite contrary to what T. S. Elliot says in his poem, “The Wasteland”, the world does not end with a bang, neither does it end with a whimper.

The world, according to God, ends in His majestic glory, clothed in love, justice, mercy, grace, and His eternal goodness!

Amen.

"Who Is My Neighbour?"

This past weekend, I attended a conference, dubbed, “Cross the Street”, organized by the Evangelical Fellowship of Canada. The conference is meant to be the “show” part of a twin "show-and-tell" evangelical tool designed to tell the world about the love of God.

The “tell” part is another conference, called “Ignite the Light”, aiming at defending the faith… in short, a conference on apologetics.

I was invited to attend as a news correspondent for ChristianWeek, a bi-weekly Christian newspaper. The privilege was all mine as conference speaker after speaker spoke viscerally and inspirationally on how to proclaim loudly God’s incomprehensible love for each one of us... not with empty words, but with come-from-the-bottom-of-the-heart love decisions and actions.

St. Francis of Assisi taught, “Preach the gospel to the world by all means. Use words, only if necessary.” I am at once humbled and shamed by that gentle reminder that how often I simply talk the talk, but, seldom do I walk the walk.

As a purported believer and follower of Jesus Christ, I ought to begin to “cross the street”, leave my comfort zone, and go the extra mile for anybody, particularly those who are in need, as Jesus would have done.

Why?

“Why not?” would be a better question.

Do I deserve Christ’ immeasurable love when He chose to become a mere man so that He might die a horrific death in order to rescue me?

He was the God-turned-one-man SWAT team who stormed the gate of hell to get me out of there.

What did I do to deserve that?

Zilch! Nada!

But, Jesus did it anyway, even were I the audience of one!

That’s how much He loves me (and all of us)!

Crossing the street to love my neighbor, the poor, the helpless, the sick, the weak, the maimed, the hurt, the handicapped, the distraught, the undone, the fatherless, the widowed, the marginalized, the disenfranchised, the enslaved, the captive, the hostage, the down-trodden, the discriminated, the prejudiced, the maligned, and the seemingly unlovable is what my Lord and Saviour would do.

He did it and continues to do it for me. I didn’t and do not deserve it. That’s why it is called grace.

Is it difficult to love others as Christ loves me? To extend grace and love to others as Christ does? To simply love as He does?

Pastor Mark Hughes of Church of the Rock calls that the “Titanium Rule”, a higher standard by which to live a victorious life in Christ: “Do unto others as Christ does unto me.”

A story that Claude Houde, founding pastor of New Life Church in Montreal, the largest French-speaking evangelical church in North America, told at the conference raised every hair on the back of my neck (and the back of everybody else’s neck as well).

Claude, as a young pastor several years ago, was late arriving at a pastors’ meeting at a church. It was a particularly bone-chilling morning, with severe wind chill whipping the crisp frigid air. As Claude rang the door bell for what seemed like eternity, no one came to the door. He was so uncomfortably cold that he was about to return to his car and warm up for several minutes before trying the door bell again.

Just as he was about to turn around from the building, the door opened a sliver. A big burly man behind it asked who he was. Claude identified himself, and, just at the corner of his eye, he saw behind the burly guardian of God’s dwelling, a group of pastors having a jovial time enjoying fellowship, warm aromatic coffee, and honey dripping donuts.

Both the warm air and the aroma of food and drink on the other side of the door were at once comforting and welcoming to this half-frozen young pastor.

As Claude was about to step inside the door, out of nowhere, in charged a little woman and her tiny boy of about 5 years of age, both were in thin tattered layers of garment. To this day, Claude could not forget the distressful look on their faces. They were frost-bitten with whiteness around their cheeks, noses and ears. The woman could hardly utter a frozen word. She begged to be let in. They were severely exposed to the elements and famished.

The little woman sobbed and begged the big burly custodian to have mercy and allow them inside for warmth. The man sternly said, “No! You can’t come in!”

Claude, already inside the door, intervened and spoke on the pair’s behalf, but, to no avail. The man refused to budge his position.

Finally, the big burly custodian raised his loud voice and yelled at the unfortunate pair, “We cannot help you. THIS is a church!”

At the last syllable of the concluding sentence of the story, the entire congregation of conference attendees gasped collectively with utter disbelief and strong emotions.

Claude, who was in tears by now, said with an uncontrollable shake in his voice, “THIS is not the church Christ has in mind! We’ve got to undergo a paradigm shift. We’ve got to change. We’ve got to repent. And, we’ve got to be different than that!”

Tony Campolo, a sociology professor and author, reminds us to see in the eye of the poor and downcast, the very eye of Christ. He further stresses that “the church ought to be the only club in the world which exists for the benefit of non-members.”

That’s what “crossing the street” is all about: Show to tell (not so much show and tell) the love of God in our own sacrificial love for others as Jesus has sacrificially loved us.

David Macfarlane, an evangelist and the Director of National Initiatives of the EFC, puts it another way: people would not come to know the truth unless they see faith, expressed in love, that cannot be explained any other way.

Dutch Sheets, an author and a teaching pastor, echoes those sentiments when he said, “God is not so much concerned about us going to church as He is about we be the church wherever we go.”

God has the final word on His kind of love in the famed "Good Samaritan" parable, entitled "Who is My Neighbour?", and in Paul's first letter to the Corinthians.

“If I speak in the tongues of men and angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have no love, I am nothing.

If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no records of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails…”

1 Corinthians 13 : 1 - 8

The Relay for Glory

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In His great mercy, He has given us new birth to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade – kept in heaven for you…” 1 Peter: 3-5

The above scripture speaks of an ever-present, irrevocable, unequivocal and glorious victory, wrought by Jesus on the cross, over sin, guilt, shame, judgment, despair, and death for all who believe in Him.

It is a message of joyous hope and gracious assurance of better things to come against the transitory backdrop of earthly sufferings, disappointments, heartaches, and dashed dreams.

Yesterday, Bob King was remembered and praised for a life well lived as an ambassador of Christ in a memorial service at church.

Bob impacted many lives while he lived. He brought school children to church week after week. He did what Jesus would have done, taking care of the fatherless. I was so touched by Bob’s actions that I developed such an admiration for this man of God.

Little did I know that Bob was not well, suffering from diabetes, kidney and liver problems. But, interacting with this joyful soul, one would never know that he was suffering from serious health concerns. He was always cheerful, positive, loving, humble, giving, and forgiving.

When Bob’s condition worsened, he was admitted into Health Sciences Centre towards the end of February. For 31 days, Bob suffered physically and emotionally. He was in constant pain from the build-up of toxins in his body.

Though his wife, Lynn, and his children had been by his side day and night in the hospital, there must have been moments of deep and painful longing to be home in his own bed surrounded by those whom he loved and who loved him.

In one’s race in life, it was not exactly what one would like to see the “home stretch” to being placed in a double occupancy hospital ward, dressed in an uncomfortable medical gown, hooked up to tubes and bags, enduring bed sores, listening to the rhythmic beeping of medical gadgetry, the irritating white noise of an unwatched television on the other side of the thin partition, and the constant cacophony of intercom calls in the hallway.

Yes. No doubt, Bob suffered. But, he didn’t complain.

Paul reminds us that whatsoever we go through now is worth the eventual outcome promised by God.

“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed to us.” Romans 8: 18

Bob just hoped to be home soon.

He wished that he could return to his wood shop and carve something for me as a keepsake.

Bob, probably you have done it already. Keep it for me when I see you.

Bob is in an unimaginably gloriously joyous state now.

Heaven is being with God in His holy presence in essence and eternity. Wow! I can only imagine! Only that my imagination were not so limited!

As we see eternity darkly as if through glass, Bob King is in it and its glory.

I, too, have a living hope in our Lord and Saviour. He knocks on the door of my heart and invites me to open it so I may see the glorious eternity on the other side.

“Now we see but a poor reflection; then, we shall see face to face. Now that I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” 1 Corinthians 13: 12

Thank you Bob for finishing your leg of the relay!

I just hope that I am worthy of the baton you just passed onto to me as I run for and towards Christ’s glorious victory as you so humbly and courageously did.

Amen

The Get-Away

Debbie and I just returned from a three-day, two-night get-away in the silent beauty of the Whiteshell.

We rented a beautifully hand-crafted chalet at Pinewood Lodge at Dorothy Lake in the Whiteshell Provincial Park. The chalet, one of five, overlooked the frozen stillness of Manitoba’s winter wonderland.

The chalet consisted of two floors. The second floor boasted a Jacuzzi and an open bedroom. The main floor unwrapped a master bedroom, bathroom with a Swedish steam bath, a living room with a fireplace and a satellite-fed television, a kitchenette, and a dining room which overlooked a wrap-around wooden deck, with a gas barbeque on it.

Wow! Describing all that was quite a mouthful! But, the experience with it was quite something else!

It was a private, undisturbed, uninterrupted, unhurried, and wonderful experience for us both.

I gourmet-cooked, on the grill, succulent standing rib steaks, juicy prawns, and skewered mushrooms, served with baked potatoes and stir-fried broccoli, carrot slices, mushroom, asparagus, and chilled white wine that Debbie bought last August in Missouri (for a special occasion, said she).

We ate whenever we wanted. We viewed a movie on the DVD each evening. We had our own version of water sports: running from the Jacuzzi to the Swedish steam bath, having a lot of 6-year-old fun.

While Debbie read, I played the guitar. When she wrote on her laptop, I painted some watercolour. We even sang together until my chording fingers began to ache.

We both agreed that that was what the doctor had ordered and what we so desperately had needed.

Debbie suggested that we’d make it an annual retreat in the same chalet; except, this time would be for six days and five nights.

Well, I have 365 days to work hard in earning that privilege to get away in this quiet haven again this time next year.

Did I say “heaven”? Or, “haven”?

A Blueprint for Easter

In God’s Kingdom, Good Friday is no chance encounter… It is a divine plan, a providential act, and an eternal design.

God created man in His image… And, what a glorious image! (“A little lower than the angels” Psalm 8:5)

So complete was man created to be like God, he was created with a God-breathed authority and free will.

From the start, God knew that man could not survive the acid test of free will. God had already planned for man’s failure with Good Friday and Resurrection Sunday in mind.

Adam failed the test of free will with the Tree of Knowledge. He threw away the God-given authority to the enemy. Also sadly enough, he passed on to all mankind the original sin, a separation from God, thus, a physical and spiritual death.

The Second Adam, Jesus, the Son of God, passed the test of free will (denying His own will and obeying His Father’s will) by dying on the tree (the cross) to reclaim for all mankind the original blessing, the lost authority, and a re-unification with God, thus, an eternal life with Him.

The cross is where justice and love meet.

The cross is where sin and mercy meet.

The cross is where poverty-stricken soul and grace meet.

The cross is where death and life meet.

The cross is where the seen and the unseen meet.

The cross is where the temporal and the eternal meet.

The cross is where evil and good meet.

Those are no chance-meetings and random encounters!

They are meetings designed in eternity.

At the cross, unequivocal and permanent victory was won and secured for all mankind for all eternity.

That’s why Good Friday (the cross) and Resurrection Sunday (the empty tomb) are “Hallelujah” occasions that resonate an eternal impact.

On Good Friday, God invites us to meet with Him at three places of the heart and spirit.

Firstly, we are invited to meet with Jesus at the table of the Last Supper, a symbol of His ultimate act of sacrifice for us.

Secondly, we are invited to meet with Jesus at the Garden of Gethsemane, a token of partnership with God in His redemptive plan for us.

Thirdly, we are invited to meet with Jesus at the cross, where the Good Guy won and where our spiritual death became revived life.

Finally, on Easter Sunday, we are invited to His table again (coming full circle) - only this time is the wedding banquet table where the Lamb of God is nuptially united with His bride, the Church. We are all invited to attend.

These are by no means chance meetings.

They are God’s heart beat and finger print of love for us.

For me? I can’t believe it!

Isn’t He so amazing?!

"Hallelujah" for the Cross!

But, more than anything, "Hallelujah" for the empty tomb!

The Eye of the Beholder

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” is meant to be a declaration that anything that is good is subjective and relative, as beheld only by the one who experiences it.

While the above adage is not above a healthy debate, it also raises a seldom considered notion: to behold something, the person’s cognitive, affective, and spiritual senses must be unobstructed, unveiled, wide-open, sensitive, and receptive to possibilities that are beyond the familiar, predictable, and mundane.

Yesterday, I was treated to three distinct expressions of beauty and God’s glory.

On his hospital bed yesterday, Bob told me a story of the inexplicable beauty of an indescribable frosty morning in Northern Manitoba when he was a copper miner.

Emerging from the bowel of the earth after a graveyard shift of mining copper, Bob and his fellow miners walked down a long, windy, and sloppy gravel road from the icy peak to the valley below where the bunkhouse lay. They could see the coy curl of smoke rising from the promise of where warm shelter would be, but hidden in the valley below.

The sun’s ray just pierced through the cracks of the mountains and shone on a thick shroud of frost hanging heavily in the morning air. The air was heavily laden with sparkling frost crystals. The morning light was so regally glorious as if it were the face of the Almighty.

“That was beauty! That was God Himself!” Bob gasped his exclamation to me.

“It was so cold that I could see in my mind’s eye wolves raising up their frozen paws in discomfort” Bob continued.

Bob’s total being was wide awake to behold the physical vision and to transform it into a spiritual experience.

Yes. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder indeed.

Last evening, our oldest son, Mons, had the rare of opportunity to play the piano at an art exhibit at the Piano Nobile Gallery of the Centennial Concert Hall.

Mons is a very talented musician. His music is soothingly enchanting. What’s exceptional about Mons’ musical talent is his ability and preference to compose as he plays, never missing a beat.

The art exhibit showcased Neil Kolton’s creative acrylic works, a unique technical and artistic style to which I was not exposed until last evening.

Somehow, the music of the sphere and the shapes, hues, and shadows on the canvas blended together in a complementary and beautifully sensual experience for all.

Once again, beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and the glory of God was in the hearts of those who graciously appreciate that all good things come from above.

Letting Go

My entire life is one of hanging tightly onto things, as if I may be able to control the variables which shape my destiny. I would not dare to let go, lest I plunge my life into an uncontrollable abyss.

I have a big problem! I have a control issue, as psychology diagnoses.

To be honest, there is very little I can do to control the uncontrollable in life.

Besides, control is illusionary. Only the Maker of heaven and earth has absolute and sovereign control of things and events on earth.

Life is not an exact science that one may manipulate the variables to bring about a formulaic desired outcome.

Though largely predicated on principles of cause-and-effect, sowing-and-reaping, “the Law of the Farm”, and natural laws of physics, life is a giant human billiards games where one life interacts with another in shaping the course of one’s life, a day at a time.

In other words, life is excitingly unpredictable and hopelessly uncontrollable.

When I hang on tightly to things and become entrenched in stagnant positions of thinking, feeling and living in a vain attempt to exercise control, I am basically a stick in the mud, too afraid to live life as one big adventure, with both pleasant and jolting surprises.

The ultimate irony is: my failure to let go would result in being held captive by self-induced anxiety.

The more I am anxious about controlling my destiny, the more out of control I feel. I live under the weight of not having (an illusionary) control that never existed anyway.

This is where faith in a sovereign and loving God comes into my billiards game of life: “Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7)

King David’s advice resonates with my heart: “When anxiety was great within me, Your consolation brought joy to my soul.” (Psalm 94:19)

I shall resolve, from this moment forward, to “be still and know” that He is God (Psalm 46:10), and He is in total control of my life.

I must invite Him, the Author of Life, to co-write the remaining chapters of my life story so that it may be His story.

Homeward Bound

I just came back from visiting Bob… at Health Sciences Centre.

I walked into his room and saw a mop of white hair, bending over and throwing up in a green plastic basin. He spilled most of the contents onto himself. He was too tired and weary to care much.

I said, “Hi, Bob.” His hollow eyes looked up.

I continued, “This is Tom… Tom Chan.” He smiled, “Hi, Tom”, though his vomit dripped from the unshaven white chin.

“Bob, I am here to encourage you and to pray for you.”

“You are beautiful,” he responded.

I left the room briefly to fetch a nurse’s aide. One came by as I was reading Psalm 139 to Bob. She said, “Go ahead. I’ll come back.”

Bob was moved with the soothing truth of God’s word through the mouth of King David in Psalm 139. As I read, he intoned with his echoing prayers.

I anointed Bob with oil and prayed for him, invoking the mighty name of our Saviour, enforcing His victory, claiming His authority, and leaning heavily on His promises.

Bob was at peace. He was in tune with His peace which surpasses all human understanding.

I read him Isaiah 44:2 and Isaiah 46: 3-4.

I believe God has a plan for Bob, whether on this side of eternity or the next.

I thanked Bob for his servant heart in bringing those school children to church Sunday after Sunday and acted as their surrogate parent.

He thanked me. I felt so humbled that he thanked me.

I gave Bob a crude home-made, hand-hewn cross, “This is your life insurance plan, Bob.”

He was moved.

I was moved.

I said good-bye to Bob, and promised that I would return the day after.

“See you on Wednesday, Tom.”

“See you, Bob, and God bless you.”

As my CD player blared: “You are the Everlasting God. You do not faint. You do not grow weary. You are the defender of the weak. You comfort those in need. You lift us up on wings like eagles,” I sobbed uncontrollably driving all the way home.

Have mercy on us all, Lord!

At the end of the day, Your grace is sufficient for us.

Bless you, Bob!

May He be very close to you!

Eternal Impact

Two years ago, I heard a sermon about the grace of showing gratitude to those who have made positive impacts in one’s life. (By the way, “grace” and “gratitude” comes from the same root word.)

I was touched by that message. I went home and made a list of all the dear folks who had left their imprints in my life and helped sculpture me the way I am.

Unfortunately, there were those, like my parents and an awesome high school teacher, who had passed on, and to whom I was way too late to express my gratitude. This, in itself, is a lesson: show gratitude and love, and say sorry if that's necessary, while we still can.

For each of those whom I wanted to thank and who were still around, I painted a watercolour card and wrote my heartfelt sentiments. I mailed them my expressions of gratitude.

I never anticipated the kind of responses I received.

People wrote me back to thank me for my thoughtfulness. Some expressed their near-shock and oblivion that they had, in any way, made a difference in my life.

The second kind of response certainly highlights for me that, in living out my life, I may never know where my influence, positive or negative, begins and where it ends.

That’s an awesome thought! That’s a frightful notion!

As if how I conduct my life is likened to the “butterfly effect” which impacts lives and shapes courses of events here and now, in the future and far, far away.

Well, that’s exactly how my parents taught me to live. And, that’s exactly how Jesus taught us to live.

Howsoever we live our lives in the here and now inevitably ripples eternal impacts on others, those who are close to us, those whom we barely know, and those whom we do not know. And, most frightening of all, for the most part, we do not and will never know whom will be affected and the nature of those impacts.

Am I a history-maker?

Yes and no.

“No man is an island,” John Donne was right in saying that. We all live in a community where one life is daily shaped by other lives, as the balls on a billiards table. In that sense, we are able to exert, intentionally, unintentionally, or subconsciously, both positive and negative influences on one another. Likewise, I am daily shaped by those with whom I do life together.

Viewed this way, we write the next chapter of our collective memoir together.

So, am I a history-maker? Or, are we making history together?

Or, would we want to invite the Author of Life to co-write our story.

What kind of story would we like to write? What kind of history would we like to make?

That’s the bigger question, a rhetorical one, that begs an answer which helps make this life and the next heaven or hell.

Yes. Who I am and how I live may impact others is an awesome thought and a frightful notion, and it deserves my daily reflective and honest attention.