“The lowly will be exalted and the exalted will be brought low.”  – Ezekiel 21:26 

Charlie Plumb was a fighter pilot in the U.S Navy when on his seventy-fifth combat mission his plane was shot down over North Vietnam.  Able to eject, Plumb parachuted safely to the ground only to be captured by the North Vietnamese, after which he spent the next six years as a prisoner of war in a solitary eight-by-eight cell where he was constantly subjected to interrogation, torture and beatings.

Several years following his release, Plumb happened to be sitting in a restaurant one evening when he noticed a gentleman staring at him.  Eventually the man came over to Plumb’s table.  Your name’s Plumb, he said.  Plumb acknowledged he was.  You were a fighter pilot in the Navy, the man continued, on the aircraft carrier Kitty Hawk.  Later you were shot down over North Vietnam and captured.  All true, Plumb confirmed, but how did he know all that, he asked?  “I packed your parachute,” replied the stranger.

Overwhelmed with humility, Plumb wondered how many times he had passed by that young sailor aboard the Kitty Hawk never once even acknowledging his existence.  Why would he, after all?  Plumb, you see, was an officer in the United States Navy, a fighter pilot, and a distinguished graduate of the U.S. Navel Academy.  That young sailor was just a lowly enlisted man assigned to some menial job down in the bowels of the ship – except that one day that sailor’s “menial” work would save Plumb’s life.

Imagine a Mercedes Benz automobile, as my friend Jacques likes to say, that costs a hundred-thousand-dollars.  Yet, he points out, the car cannot function without a battery which maybe costs a couple hundred dollars.  But neither can the battery deliver the energy required to start the car were it not for a small cable connecting it to the starter, a part with a value of maybe two dollars.  Without it, though, the Mercedes is useless.

Often it’s not about doing great things that matters nearly so much as doing small things that add up to make a great difference.  I wonder who the parachute packers have been in my life, and how many I’ve passed by without acknowledging?  And whose parachute have I packed lately, or when have I been a two-dollar cable connecting one important part to another?  “The lowly will be exalted and the exalted will be brought low.” 

“. . . clothe yourself with splendor and majesty . . .”  – Psalm 45:3 

At the time our son Marc decided to pursue his higher education at Sewanee (officially The University of the South), I knew little about the school except that it’s a small liberal arts college with a credible academic reputation, located somewhere in rural Tennessee on a mountaintop.  One thing surprised me, though, and that’s its adherence to a long-standing dress code requiring male students to wear coats and ties to class, and women students to wear skirts.  Sounds like a throw-back from a bygone era, doesn’t it?  I thought so too – that is, until I began to understand the wisdom behind it.

Our culture is not much in to coats and ties these days.  Even the Wall Street banking world where I came from started drifting toward more casual attire long before I left that profession over fifteen years ago.  Few people even put on their best bib-and-tucker, as my mother used to say, to attend religious services anymore, myself included.  But there was a time when it was the norm.  I even recall a time when bow-ties were part of the khaki uniforms worn by gas station attendants, delivery people, and auto mechanics.

What Sewanee recognizes, as I’m sure do other places that maintain similar high standards, is the correlation between looking our best and performing at our best.  Conversely, mediocre appearance can influence both mediocre performance as well as behavior.

Technology has certainly changed how we do our work, affording many to work from home, at least part of the time.  It’s a great benefit in many ways.  I office from home myself.  Yet, I notice myself more productive when I dress well – though alone – as opposed to sitting around in PJ’s or workout clothes.  And even my demeanor on the phone is more professional when I look nice, even though invisible to the other party. 

Appearances are not everything, that’s for sure.  But there is something to be said for presenting ourselves well, for by doing so we dignify those with whom we come in contact, not just ourselves.  “. . . clothe yourself with splendor and majesty . . . ,” the Psalmist said.  Or as another wise person put it, “dress like you mean business.”  And that’s the great wisdom behind Sewanee’s adherence to its long-standing dress code. 

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.  Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people. . .”

–          Galatians 6:9-10 

My bowl of cereal was sitting in front of me that morning while I thumbed through the newspaper, as is my custom, when my attention was unexpectedly drawn away from the usual business and sports news that normally captured my attention, to a book review.  The year was 1994 when book review articles were not exactly top priority, especially given the tight schedule I was on to get to the office.  But the title of this newly released book grabbed me, Halftime by (the now late) Bob Buford, a book addressed to people – men mostly – in or approaching midlife.  Until that moment I had never considered that I was at that exact point in life.  By day’s end, however, the book was in my possession.

For most of my life I had been led to believe that my lot in life was to become successful, by that I mean financially successful, and by 1994 my career was certainly on the rise.  But looking back now I realize that while financial security is always appealing, the effort and sacrifice it was going to take to attain it was not so appealing – not for me at least.  Nevertheless, over the next several years my career did continue to advance, and accordingly my fortunes grew as well.  Yet, at the same time Buford’s message of “changing one’s game plan from success to significance” nagged at me, causing me to question my motives of pursuing success versus focusing instead on doing good. 

Today I’m happy to report that the latter eventually won out over the former, and while we continue to live comfortably, the wealth and status I had once believed to be my lot in life never materialized.  And how blessed my life has been as a result.

To think it all happened so unexpectedly over a routine bowl of cereal and the morning newspaper, a message I’m convinced was from God – conveyed through Bob Buford’s book – that would profoundly change my life.  For that I will be forever grateful.  “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.  Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people. . .”

“He has made everything beautiful in its time.”  – Ecclesiastes 3:11 

My grandparents’ homestead was a grand estate.  That’s not an exaggerated childhood memory, it truly was.  While it might not quite attain mansion status by today’s standards, it would certainly come close.  It was a massive six-bedroom two-story house above a huge two-room basement, with grounds that included an English rose garden, my grandmother’s prolific vegetable garden, a large backyard that included a fountain and fishpond at one end and an outdoor fireplace at the other.  But most memorable to me as a child was the tile swimming pool, a rarity in those days, where I learned to swim.  The pool area included a cabana complete with his-and-her full dressing rooms with showers, a laundry facility and servants’ quarters.  Adjacent to the pool was a lighted tennis court.  What a showplace it was, not to mention the memories of my grandparents’ warm hospitality, especially the huge platters of fried chicken my grandmother would prepare in the summertime while the rest of us were swimming.

Several weeks ago, while passing through the small town where my grandparents had lived, we made a detour by the old homeplace.  Sadly, it was barely visible for all the unkempt trees, shrubs and weeds that grown up around it.  Peeking through the overgrowth as best we could, we could see the whole place had deteriorated badly, as had the once prosperous neighborhood surrounding it.

I’m a little like that myself these days I suppose, deteriorating that is.  An old acquaintance reminded me of that the other day, amused by a picture he had seen of me at a much younger age, referring to a wedding photo I had posted on Facebook recently on the day of our forty-seventh wedding anniversary.  “Wow!” he remarked, “you looked so young, I almost didn’t recognize you.”  Admittedly, I did have more hair back then – among several other features – which he also observed was a different color. 

“He has made everything beautiful in its time,” like my grandparents’ home back in its glory days, or my looks at a younger age, though not exactly beautiful.  There is a season and a purpose for everything, the writer of Ecclesiastes points out, and through it God gives us a glimpse of the perfection of His creation – but only a glimpse – so that through our own lives and those we touch that beauty is re-created for another season and time.

“Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” 

–          Psalm 90:12 

For years I was not much of a reader.  This extended well into adulthood.  I read, of course, what was required in school, but not much more, except for newspapers and magazines.  But books?  I had little interest.  It was not that I was incapable, just that sitting still for an extended period of time curled up with a book seemed like an incredible waste of time when I could be doing something else.  Maybe I suffered from a little undiagnosed attention deficit disorder.  Who knows.

This tidbit may come as a surprise, for most people today know me as a voracious book reader, which I am.  I don’t recall exactly when or how I caught the reading bug, except at some point I started reading novels, bestseller types, devouring them, one after another.  Eventually, that led to reading out of a desire to learn.  Through the years, books have changed my life.  If only I had known then what I know now, the amazing power of reading books, and the vast knowledge and wisdom to be attained from them.

Haven’t we all made that same remark about various things in our lives, “if only I had known then what I know now”?  Someone once said, if only the young could be old for a day, they would neither fear so much growing old, nor foolishly squander the days of their youth.

Julia Cameron, in her book The Artist’s Way (speaking of influential books I have read!) offers a helpful remedy for this common malady.  “Write a letter from you at eighty to you at your current age,” she suggests.  “What would you tell yourself?  What interests would you tell yourself to pursue?  What dreams would you encourage?”  If only I had done this exercise myself forty or fifty years ago.  If only I had known then what I know now. 

The Psalmist sums it up this way, “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”  What do we want to see happen in our lives before we die?  What small steps can we take toward that purpose today?  And what else can we do to circumvent that all-too-common malady, “If only I had known then what I know now”?