Thursday, April 28, 2016
She looked across the table at me and sighed, "I just don't know where to start."
Me either, come to think of it.
We were discussing the world and all its juicy problems. My friend wants to be involved, wants to reverse the destruction she sees, wants to push back all that is crippling the sense of right and wrong in the world.
Me too, come to think of it.
So...where to start?
We've made an overwhelming mess of things in our world. We have debt we entered into willingly while being unwilling to pay it. Stress we're stressed out about. Language police and protests against any police. Destruction that is called free speech. Free speech that is called destructive. Haters who hate the haters. Lovers who love too freely. Mysterious diseases. Mysterious legalities. Mysterious national borders. Freedom to enter any bathroom of our choosing but a lessening right to privacy. Rape that isn't rape rape and marriage that isn't marriage marriage. People seeking offense in anything except that which is offensive. And politics. Always the ever present seepage of politics into every aspect of our lives, whether it's in the laws that govern poorly, the burdens we are legally required to carry that are not our own, the disagreements that divide us, or the words we are and are not allowed to speak.
Yeah. It's ugly.
My friend wants to make a difference. And, let me be brutally honest with you here, she may not. Nothing we do may have any affect at all.
But that's the risk, isn't it? The not knowing if it matters. The unknown results. The hidden destination. We aren't asked to control the outcome, God simply asks us to be obedient. To do what is placed before us, what we know is right, whatever we can do, and to let Him handle it from there.
Results are His territory and the destination is His design. We're not responsible for our impact, only our actions.
My job is to trust that. And to trust Him: in my world, my life, and my future. When I do, shockingly enough, the mess doesn't seem so big anymore.
Monday, April 25, 2016
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
The man backed his pickup into the parking space and jumped out. Then he went to work.
In the bed of his truck was a gas grill, along with dozens and dozens and dozens of uncooked hamburger patties and hot dogs ready for cooking.
David Lopez, the President of Southwestern Bell Communications, walked out of his building, the one known as One Bell, the one that now houses Oklahoma City University's School of Law, the one - at that moment - with busted windows and traumatized employees, the one on 8th and Harvey, the one down the street from the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building, the one that would become the Command Center for rescue workers until every last Oklahoman was brought out.
Lopez, having just been knocked out of his chair by the force of the explosion, exited the building and saw the man.
"You can't park here sir," Lopez remembers telling him, a story he recounted to me a few years ago during an interview. A story he used as an example of all the many incredible stories that happened on that day in 1995.
Instead of leaving, that man, who still remains nameless, heated up his grill. He turned to Lopez, who remembered his simple response, "He said, 'We're going to be here awhile and people are going to get hungry.'" Then he went back to cooking.
He was one of thousands who responded on April 19th - 21 years ago today - without direction or authority. Simply to be a good neighbor. To help.
They call it the Oklahoma Standard, this neighbor helping neighbor attribute. May we never lose it. More importantly, may we spread it to every corner of the world we can. And, in so doing, tell them where it comes from: a Savior who loves at all times and inspires us to do the same.