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MAKING EVERY MOMENT COUNT #3
MISSED FLIGHTS AND WASTED OPPORTUNITIES
I’m sure that Steve Edmonds had to be frustrated. I
mean, I know I’m frustrated when I try to change a flight, and just can’t
seem to get a seat on the earlier plane back home.
He’d had a fantastic vacation down in Puerto Vallarta: five days in the
sun. Down there with his longtime buddy of 25 years, Robert Hovey, the
two guys went diving every day. The weather was perfect, the food was
perfect . . . even though the Voice of Prophecy is a teetotaling kind
of radio ministry, I’ll just report that Steve and Bob thought that the
margaritas were perfect. “What a flawless vacation,” Bob was saying as
they finally headed to the airport.
Except . . . for Steve not being able to change flights right there at
the end. The two guys wanted to fly back home on the same plane, but there
just wasn’t room. So Steve said goodbye to his good buddy Bob, and waved
to him as Bob got on board Alaska Airlines. Flight #261 took off without
Steve. Flight #261 got into mechanical trouble without Steve. Flight #261
went down into the Pacific Ocean right near here in Port Hueneme . . .
without Steve. You talk about a close call.
Our radio topic this week has been this: MAKING EVERY MOMENT COUNT. How
the little moments in our lives, especially the little nudges we give
one another, can pile up into something huge, something life-changing.
And of course, for the rest of his days on this earth now, all bonus days
given by God, Mr. Steve Edmonds will think back on how some reservations
clerk there in Puerto Vallarta said to him: “I’m sorry, Mr. Edmonds, but
Flight #261 is fully booked. You’ll have to travel on your regularly scheduled
flight.” A few flickering signals on some computer screen signaled a “no
vacancy” message, and by the tiniest of nudges, this fortunate man was
spared.
Of course, most of us don’t experience anything so dramatic. We can’t
think of just one nudge, one moment-at-the-ticket-counter which so dramatically
spells life or death. And as we reflect back into our pasts, maybe you
don’t know of any single moment — a word spoken, a book read, a sermon
heard, a prayer uttered — which put you on the path to your eternal destiny.
Many nudges, many small trickles growing into a river of salvation: yes.
But not the one single moment.
Which is fine. For most of us, it is the small rivers, the little daily
choices, the quiet, imperceptible influences, which make up our destiny.
That’s why they’re all so important — each one of them — as they slowly
pile together into a mighty force going up or sliding down.
We mentioned yesterday the awesome reality that people all around us —
and us too, of course — are on a track to live forever. For infinity!
In a sense, it’s like putting a dollar in the bank at six percent and
then saying, “Okay, in one billion years what will this dollar be worth
— plus interest? What will it have grown to become by then?” Mr. Steve
Edmonds, would-be airline passenger, had just one flicker, one moment,
nudge him to safety. But what would some other tiny bit of influence,
provided by you, mean to someone when we factor in the compound interest
of an infinity of time?
Maybe you’ve read the old, old Tennyson line coming from the classic work,
Ulysses.
“I am a part of all that I have met.”
Or this old sound bite, coming to us in this new millennium
from Henry Ward Beecher:
“The humblest individual exerts some influence, either for good or evil,
upon others.”
I guess we often “pass” on a moment, a brief flicker
of opportunity, because it seems like exactly that: just a flicker. What
possible good can a flicker do? You’re on an airplane — speaking of Flight
#261 — with the chance to say just a word to your seatmate as the plane
touches down. What good would just a word do, though? Actually, considering
the miracle of spiritual compound interest, more than you can imagine.
In Leadership magazine, a wonderful journal for Christian ministers, David
Ray quotes from The Big Small Church Book. Notice what he observes about
little things:
“Throughout Scripture God affirms the few, the small,
and the insignificant who live by faithfulness rather than forcefulness.
With few exceptions biblical faithfulness does not come from, or result
in, large numbers. God is willing to spare Sodom and Gomorrah if only
10 righteous people can be found. Christ is present where two or three
gather in His name. The widow’s mite is the largest gift. The boy with
a few loaves and fish provides food for thousands. Jesus fed 5,000 but
only shared the Lord’s Supper with the Twelve and was revealed to the
two in Emmaus as they broke bread. The mustard seed, the pearl of great
price, the leaven in the loaf, the lost sheep and coin, the sparrows,
and the numbered hairs on a person’s head are all powerful signs that
small can be theologically mighty.”
You know, I had never thought, really, about that supper
Jesus had with Cleopas and his friend there in Emmaus. Now, think about
it. This is Sunday. THE Sunday. Resurrection Sunday. This is the biggest
day in Christianity.
Bear in mind also that the resurrected Savior was only going to remain
on this earth a few more weeks. Wouldn’t He tend to think that every day,
every hour, is now at a premium? Shouldn’t He be a featured speaker each
evening at a huge Christian rally with a minimum of 5,000 present at each?
Today we’d think He would insist to His organizers: “This is prime time,
guys. You get us on all the major networks, with live satellite feeds,
or it’s not worth My time. My handlers won’t let Me waste a single minute
on down time or trivia.”
But no. Jesus spends quality time, all the time necessary for a seven-mile
walk — maybe two-and-a-half hours — walking along with just two men. He
invests an afternoon and evening of prime, prime time with just two discouraged
disciples. He explains to just two men how the Messiah was the fulfillment
of Scripture. How the Lamb of God had to come and suffer and die and then
be raised again. He lays out the entire plan of salvation, not over a
CNN feed, but just to two men! What’s more, He pauses to eat with just
those two men. This is no thousand-dollar-a-plate dinner with important
people and press representatives chronicling His every word and deed for
an upcoming TV documentary. This is the Redeemer of the world, spending
three or four of these most precious, carefully rationed hours, with just
two guys.
True, Jesus knew that Cleopas and his friend would dash back to Jerusalem
and take the good news to the rest of the group. He knew that the story
of His resurrection would reverberate throughout the infant Christian
church. And no doubt He knew that the Bible writer Luke would eventually
tell the story of that quiet little supper to an audience totaling in
the billions.
Jesus probably knew all that, and knew about ripples turning into tidal
waves of Christian hope. But I think He also invested those never-to-be-recovered
hours on Cleopas and his friend simply because He loved them so much.
He knew how His time with them would comfort their broken hearts, how
His words implanted just in their two hearts would grow and nurture and
make them into champions for the cause of God.
I have to confess that we’re on a few radio stations where I sometimes
suspect that we have maybe one listener. According to the demographics
from that town, the pie charts and the projected ratings and all the rest
. . . one listener. And people on our money committees say: “Let’s cancel.
Let’s look for greener pastures.”
Well, sometimes we have to do that. On the other hand, friend, YOU — right
now — might be that one listener. Here on December 31, 2002, you happened
to have your radio dial aimed in our direction. And neither one of us
knows, you or me, how these few moments together might nudge you into
a renewed appreciation of Jesus. Ten or twenty years from now, this little
widow’s mite moment of time together, this Wednesday rendezvous, might
have grown into something incomparable in your life and experience.
With that in mind, why not spend a bit of time today thinking of the small
nudges you might provide? Could you put one dollar into play for Jesus?
Could you take ten minutes that you’d otherwise let slip away, and make
a phone call, or stop by a sick neighbor, or give a word of encouragement
to someone, instead of just passing them in the hallway with a nod?
I remember a great song we like here at the Voice of Prophecy, which is
sung by the Gaither Vocal Band. It goes like this:
“Little is much — when God is in it. Labor not for
wealth or fame. There’s a crown, and you can win it, If you go in Jesus’
name.”
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