the lesson from the hawk

I saw it just as it saw me. A real live hawk, just a few feet away in the corn field.

I froze in my tracks and just stared, admiring how beautiful and magnificent it was. But something didn’t seem right. I heard chirping, but it didn’t sound like what I imagined a hawk would generate.

It puzzled me for several seconds but then, suddenly, I understood.

A small bird—probably a sparrow—emerged from the brush and flew by in rush, with the hawk right behind it. The two of them got tangled in a bush on the other side of the road and the sparrow flew away, with the hawk staying behind.

Once again I stared at the hawk, now sitting atop a branch. Maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed to give me a look of disgust and then flew away.

It was then that I made a guess at what had just happened: The hawk apparently had the sparrow in its talons, a right tasty meal. But then I came along, and as the hawk worried about what I would do the sparrow wiggled free.

I had cost the hawk a meal. On the other hand I had saved the life of the sparrow.

Perhaps trying to make myself feel better, I focused more on the latter than the former. Because I had just happened along at that very moment, the sparrow escaped to live another day.

I couldn’t help but think of a verse from the Old Testament, one that we all need to read and heed:

“Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”1

The gist of that verse is an admonition for us to use our time wisely. While doing so is wise, we appear to gain even more wisdom when we do.

Another way of saying that is to recognize that we only have a limited time here on earth so we better make the best of it. For instance, those of us who live in the United States have an average life span of 78.24 years.2 Women, of course, typically live longer than men.

That means as a fat, middle-aged man, I have just 22 more years to go, if I’m lucky. And who knows what the quality of life will be down the road?  It might just stink.

On the other hand, I might get hit by a bus later today. Who knows?

Because of that I need to use every minute of every day wisely, and as I do I’ll gain wisdom.

As I’ve contemplated that principle, it occurs to me how much time I waste in an average day. I spend an inordinate amount of time on myself. As you might imagine, that’s very convicting for a pastor, someone who’s supposed to be totally sold out to the Lord.

What changes am I going to make? I’m not sure at this point, since I’m still “soaking the beans.”

But some changes will probably come pretty quickly. You see, I witnessed the whole hawk and sparrow thing yesterday. And today I found a dead sparrow in the middle of the street, right where yesterday’s drama took place.

Is this sparrow the same as yesterday’s? Who knows?

But God made His point loud and clear: Make some changes, preacher boy. Make some changes.

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

1  Psalm 90:12

2  The World Factbook, Central Intelligence Agency, https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/rankorder/2102rank.html

how much time is left?

Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I sat up on the couch and looked down the hall. The bedroom light was on and the door partially open. Not sure what was going on, and still half asleep, I shuffled toward the light.

The closer I got, the worse I felt. The closer I got, the slower my feet wanted to move.

I stopped at the doorway and slowly pushed the door open, dreading what I would find, knowing what I would find.

There, in bed, were all three of them, three of my closest friends in the world. And one of them was now dead.

Nobody said a word as I walked in, staring at my friend’s face the whole time. His eyes were closed but he had a pained look on his face, his mouth wide open. His wife still held him in her arms, not wanting to let go, not able to let go.  

I sat down on the bed with them, and no one spoke for the longest time. There wasn’t any need. We had suspected he wouldn’t last the night, and he didn’t. That’s why we had all gathered at his house. The end had finally come, just minutes before I woke up.

There would be no more hospital visits, no more hanging out with him at his house after getting off work, and no more experimental treatments.

I will never forget the look on my friend’s face lying in bed. Never.

And yet that painful memory is softened considerably with another—better—memory. The last time we talked, the last time he was able to communicate, he smiled weakly, shook my hand and said, “Thanks for coming by, Chris.”

I can still see his smile, despite the intense pain. Even though we had barely said a word to each other the whole time I was there, he truly appreciated my company. I could see it on his face. I can still see it on his face.

I miss my friend so much. A part of me died with him. And yet, we got to spend a lot of time together in his last months—I had made sure of that.

Why do I share this story with you today? Just a reminder that we all have limited time here on earth.

I’m alive right now, but will I be later today? Maybe, maybe not. The same goes for you and everybody else who’s been blessed by God with the gift of life.

Because of that reality, what do you need to do right now? Make a phone call? Write an email? Text somebody? Stop by for a visit?

“Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.”1

Hug your spouse. Call your folks. Hold your children in your arms. Text your friend. Make memories with your grandchildren.

Surely you’re not going to just stop reading this blog and go about your business as if nothing’s changed, are you?

I didn’t think so. So, what are you waiting for? Do what you need to do.

Trust me. You’ll be glad you did.

1  James 4:14-15

mourning the past

“Me and you and a dog named Boo”?

You’ve got to be kidding. I’m officially pathetic.

Pity me as I mourn my youth, as every song from the late 60s and early 70s nearly brings me to tears. Even the stupidest songs remind me of precious memories from long ago. And yes, that includes the classic tune by Lobo released in 1971.

Darn it, I miss that old Boo.

Actually, I miss a skinnier and more energetic Chris, a younger version of me with his whole life in front of him, not behind him. While I don’t miss the acne, it’s depressing to have to pluck hairs that crop up overnight in places where they’re not welcome. Like on and in my ears.

Sorry. Too much information.

Fortunately, the Lord rescued me from my most recent obsession with youth and the past.  He rescued me by reminding me of two things. First, I’m not on this earth very long. Maybe not a pleasant thought, but a fact.

“As for man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more.”1

In other words life is short, so quit mourning the past and get back to living in the present. That reminder should have been enough, but the Lord must have figured I needed a second push in the right direction.

Not only is my time short, I need to be busy doing His work instead of feeling sorry for myself. After all, Jesus is coming back some day.

“You also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him."2

So there it is. It’s apparently okay for me to listen to music from my youth, but I can’t let it paralyze me or keep me from being spiritually productive. The past is the past and it’s gone forever. The present is what matters.

Time is short and there’s a lot of work to do. I get the message.

But just between you and me, I still miss that old Boo.

1  Psalm 103:15-16

2  Luke 12:40