“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.”

• Ecclesiastes 3:1 

To me it is the most surreal story ever told.  It happened one day when Jesus invited three of his closest pals, Peter, James, and John, to accompany him on a hike up to the top of a mountain.  To their astonishment, on that mountaintop stood a couple of Jesus’ old friends from the past, famous men from hundreds of years before, one being Moses and the other Elijah.  Suddenly as Jesus chatted with them his appearance began to change, such that, as scripture tells us, “His face shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as light.”  For Peter, James, and John, it was like nothing they had ever experienced, beyond any magical moment one could ever imagine, as if time stood still.  Peter even suggested they put up shelters so they could all stay there forever, so the moment would never end.  It was not to be, though – at least not yet – and Jesus led the three back down the mountain from where they had come.

Have you ever had one of those surreal moments?  It happened once for me when we traveled to Italy several years ago with a group of close friends to tour the regions of Tuscany and Umbria.  The very first night we were there – tired and jet-lagged, yet full of excitement about the days ahead – we had dinner reservations at a quaint restaurant across from our hotel in the small city of Pietrasanta.  What we thought would be a simple meal and an early bedtime turned into one of the most magical evenings any of us had ever experienced.  The food, the wine, the ambiance, the people – whatever it was it felt as if time stood still.  We wanted to stay there forever.  It was not to be, of course.

This past week over lunch I had to bid farewell to my longtime friend, Charlie.  Over the years Charlie has been my counselor, encourager, teacher, spiritual advisor, pastor, role model, and confessor.  But the time had come that he must move on, to live closer to family as he should, and eventually, I’m sure, to become pastor, teacher, and confessor to others.  Except, I did not want him to go.  I wanted him to be around forever.

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.”  And one thing I have learned is that just as spring follows winter, so every ending is followed by new beginnings.  So it will be for my friend Charlie and me.

“. . . let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.”  Hebrews 12:1 

Even though I was listed on the roster as a bona fide member of my high school’s varsity track team, I’m not sure I contributed much other than being a warm body who showed up for practice.  Too slow for the hundred-yard dash, not coordinated enough to run hurdles, jump high, or pole-vault, and not strong enough to throw the shotput, the coach had few options except to enter me in long-distance races.  Unfortunately, I did not do well in them either.

Yet, in adult life I became an avid runner and have remained so for thirty-five years, an exercise I practice several days a week, although more cautiously and slowly as I have grown older and my joints more vulnerable to injury.  And I should also hasten to say I have never been a particularly competitive runner, nor have I ever run marathons, 5k’s and 10k’s being the extent of my participation in races.  Still, I do wear a stopwatch when I run to time myself, so in a way I guess I compete against myself.  But my purpose in running has mostly been an endeavor to maintain weight and overall good health, nothing more, and so far that has served me well.

What I have learned about running, both from the high school track team and as an adult runner, is that there is a vast difference between training for a sprint, like a hundred-yard dash, and training for a long-distance run like a 10k or a marathon; for it means little to a distance runner if he covers the first hundred yards in ten seconds.  While speed is a great asset in many sports, for long-distance runners it is the ability to stick with it mile after mile that counts.  Steadfastness, not simply short-term fastness, determines the winner.  Or as that smart-aleck hare learned the hard way when he challenged the tortoise to a race in Aesop’s renowned fable, “slow and steady wins the race.”

The older I get the more I recognize the similarities between distance running and a life well lived.  Yes, having the ability to run fast serves us well at times, especially in those early years of starting a career or raising a young family.  But ultimately, life is a distance run not a sprint, where steadfastness and endurance far outweigh speed in determining the winners.  So, “. . . let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” 

“. . . clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”

• Colossians 3:12 

George Eliot, renowned English novelist and poet, once issued a great challenge.  “What do we live for,” she asked, “if it is not to make life less difficult to each other?”

A lovely couple, both in their nineties, lived down the street from us for the longest time, until they both passed away.  One morning the poor lady fell in her yard while getting the newspaper and was unable to get up.  Another neighbor happened to see the incident and rushed to her aid getting her back on her feet and safely into her house.  Fortunately, except for being a little traumatized, she was not injured.  Upon learning about this, my wife Tee, while on her early morning walks with our dog, began to pick up the couple’s paper and place it next to their front door.  This routine continued for several months until another caring neighbor picked up on the same idea, often beating her to it.  Now, I don’t know this for a fact, but I think it may well have been Tee’s kind act that had inspired the other neighbor to do likewise, creating sort of a ripple effect.

In this age of instantaneous social and mainstream media, we are bombarded by a barrage of news, most of it bad, impacting millions of people – most notably a world-wide pandemic, drugs, crime, threats of terrorist attacks, human injustice, racism, and dysfunctions within our political system.  I don’t know about you, but sometimes I become overwhelmed by this, paralyzed from doing anything because my meager actions don’t seem to matter anyway, at least not enough to make a difference.  Wrong!  I can make a difference.  I can do things like what my wife did for our sweet neighbors down the street.  And we never know what kind of ripple effect that might inspire; for as Margaret Mead famously said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world.  Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

“. . . clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience,” St. Paul reminds us.  Or as that lovely poem by Emily Dickinson says, “If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain; If I can ease one life the aching, Or Cool one pain, Or help one fainting robin, Unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain.”  Indeed, “what do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult to each other?”

“Honor one another above yourselves.”  Romans 12:10 

When I was a young businessman, lunch with my business colleagues was inevitably focused on the subject of how to make more money.  Some years later, and I don’t recall exactly when, that began to change – I suppose after we had all attained a certain level of success – our lunch conversations shifted from how to make money to how to make a difference.  Fast forward to today, most of us have retired from that competitive business world and devote ourselves entirely to using our time and resources to make a difference, either by going into helping professions as I have done, or volunteering in our communities, churches, and service organizations.

What could have caused such a transformation in our priorities?  I can’t speak for my friends, but I know what happened with me.  One day it occurred to me that success, in and of itself, did not satisfy the yearning I had for my life to mean something.  Most likely they experienced a similar epiphany.  Yes, there is a certain satisfaction in accomplishment, but merely achieving a level of prosperity is not enough.  This is nothing new, of course.  As the writer of Ecclesiastes expressed thousands of years ago, “What does man gain from all his labor at which he toils under the sun? . . . Meaningless!  Meaningless!  Utterly meaningless! . . . a chasing after the wind.”

Our labors and our successes are not meaningless, of course, when we shift our priorities toward making a difference rather than simply making money (or other earthly pursuits such as personal recognition, awards, academic degrees, or political power).  As my friends and I began to realize, it is about turning our attention away from ourselves to helping others.

It has been said that Benjamin Franklin spent the first half of his life becoming successful and accumulating wealth.  The second half he spent investing his time and resources in making a difference.  Not that any of us can compare ourselves to the business successes or contributions to mankind of this great Father of our country, but he certainly set an example to follow.  For in the end the only thing that can truly satisfy the yearning for our lives to mean something is to follow the teachings of the Apostle Paul, that is to “Honor one another above yourselves.”

“From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded.”  – Luke 12:48 

They were huddled in the shade beside the ice cream store where we had stopped to refresh ourselves while traveling recently.  I had hardly noticed them until a woman appeared from the shadows of the building’s overhang and asked if I could help them out. It was a young couple with a baby, obviously homeless and desperate, to which I responded kindly by offering a blessing and a few bucks.  A short time later as we were leaving the store another couple was about to enter, except they had parked on the opposite side of the building, out of view from the needy family.  The man held the door for his wife to enter, then excused himself explaining he would join her in a moment.  I watched as he walked around the corner toward the homeless family, whom he had obviously spotted when he drove into the parking lot, then – totally unsolicited – handed them a fistful of cash along with a blessing and some encouraging words.

Watching that man’s kind gesture humbled me almost to tears.  But didn’t we both respond to the needy family in a similar way, you might ask?  Hardly, for unlike me that gentleman was paying attention to the world around him, alert to things that he could do to make it better, people in need like that desperate homeless family.  I, on the other hand, was oblivious to my surroundings, my mind instead on the many ice cream flavors awaiting me inside the store.

Freedom, it has been said, is a two-sided coin.  On one side is privilege; on the other, responsibility.  We who reside in the land of the free treasure the freedom our fore-fathers fought for and so many have died to protect.  Yet in our own day we are prone to scream like spoiled children whenever we fear any of those cherished freedoms are being threatened, forgetting too quickly that the coin has two sides, and that our freedom – and our democracy – require equal attention to both.

Jesus did not mince words about this, that “From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded.”  I think my emotions were stirred when that gentleman at the ice cream store noticed someone in need and stepped up to offer help, and unlike me, did so without any solicitation whatsoever, demonstrating that in his own privileged life there is a responsibility attached.  Whoever you are sir, thank you for reminding me.