Category Archives: Reflections on Life

For Such a Time as This

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Growing up, I often dreamed of living in another time and place.  Some long to live in the future, fascinated by imagined and fantastic things that might someday become possible and common-place.  I, on the other hand, always felt like I was born too late, ill-fitted for life in the present age.  The quixotic past I envisioned living in was safer, slower, less technological and complex.

It’s easy, after all, to romanticize the imagined past and the dreams of the future when you don’t actually live in them.  It’s far harder is to live well within the messy and difficult realities of the present.

Many things make me want to live in the past, but the recent rapid rise of digital information technologies has been especially instrumental in increasing this nostalgic yearning.  The explosions of tech innovation and the accompanying breakneck pace of cultural and academic alterations in teaching have disoriented, dumbfounded, and discouraged me.  The methods and means of education are changing so rapidly, I wonder if I’ll be able to finish my career as a professor if I cannot quickly adapt to these relentless and radical technological transformations.

I frequently catch myself thinking, “Perhaps if I was born about fifteen years earlier, I would not have to worry about all these changes.  I would be approaching retirement and could let younger generations figure it all out.” But if my health and mind hold out, there could many years of teaching opportunities ahead.  God has been reminding me that like it or not, I will have to face these challenges in the here and now.  And when you really think about it, what other time do we have to live within but the actual present?

I suspect that many have wrestled with the longing to escape the difficulties of today by wanting to live in the future or the past.  And while we can certainly learn from the past and look to the future, God still calls us to live well in the present—the exact time and place in which He has chosen us to live and move and have our being.  As such, none of us were born too late or too early.

As Mordecai reminded Esther, we were born for such a time as this, created at just the right time for God’s sovereign plans to be revealed and fulfilled in and through us.  I doubt Esther wanted to risk her life to save her people from extermination, but it was the time and place in which God had positioned her.  That moment gave her the opportunity and responsibility to live well in the present. She accepted it with courage and used it wisely.

If we are willing to embrace with faith and joy the place and time in which God has positioned us, and if we are willing to live—really live—in that actual present, I suspect God will grant us many opportunities—big and small—that we alone are meant to accept and fulfill.  They may or may not be, like Esther, life-risking, nation-saving endeavors, but in the here and now of God’s purposes and plans they still matter immensely nonetheless.  May we therefore attend to and live well within the present prospects God grants us so long as it is still called today.

When Our Wildest Dreams Don’t Come True

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Sometimes there’s a fine line between wisdom and cynicism.

In 1985, I was at a Cru gathering called “Explo ’85” where I first got really excited about my Christian faith.  The conference was my first serious introduction to all the amazing things God was doing around the globe.  The rallying cry was, “Come help change the world!”  I was young, unencumbered, idealistic, and wanted to be a “world changer.”

Several friends were also there, and together we began imagining how God might use us to alter the course of human history.  Trafficking in dreams seems to be the capital of youth, and while some dreamed of making money and becoming powerful and famous, we dreamed of being radically committed to Christ.  Others might live mediocre lives, but we were going to rise above the mundane and shine like stars for Jesus!

Those dreams were dreamt more than thirty years ago now.  There have been many storms and trials since.  Lots of water has passed beneath life’s bridge.  My friends’ lives took many different courses.  One (pictured with me above) died suddenly in his mid-twenties, another was married and then divorced, a third joined and then left Cru staff to become a lawyer, and one never finished college and became a security guard.

Reflecting on our lives and walks with God, I was struck by the thin line separating wisdom from cynicism.  All of us made choices along the way—thousands and thousands of them, choices that pulled and pushed us down the corridors of time.  Most of those youthful dreams quickly fled or slowly died away under reality’s crushing weight.  We all squandered opportunities to serve Jesus fully.

Did any of us become world changers?  I suppose we each, in our own ways, did help change the world—for better and for worse.  We wanted to be great, but in the end, we all turned out to be notoriously normal—broken, struggling, anonymous, unimpressive, and yet, still loved and graciously used by a wonderfully good and patient God.

Our youthful dreams of grandeur were mostly our own.  We were not wrong to dream them, but in the face of real life and God’s greater plan, they didn’t mean or amount to all that much.  And cynicism comes easy when you merely compare the youthful dream with the stark reality.  Most of our dreams are lost and forgotten in time.  Most of our goals remain unfulfilled.  Few succeed in achieving what was dreamed about in youth.

Wisdom, however, helps us understand that whatever visions and plans we may have once had, ultimately, all of us make daily decisions that bring us step by step to the threshold of today.  This is the wisdom of personal responsibility.  The wise will not blame others for what might have been but somehow never was.  No matter how awful or difficult the path became, we all had choices about the way we would live our lives.

Wisdom also affirms that life is more than choices.  This is our Father’s world, and our decisions are always coupled with His sovereign—and sometimes incomprehensible—purposes and plans.  True wisdom surrenders to the ways of a God who is wholly worthy of our trust.  We may have wanted more for ourselves when God wanted less.  The opposite is also true.  Many well-known believers never sought fame, fortune, or “scope” in their service of the Lord.  God simply chose to elevate and multiply what they were humbly doing for His own purposes and glory.  They were faithful, of course, but He was the Master Planner, opening doors for a broader base of impact.

Wisdom understands this and gives God all the glory.  Our calling, then, is not to fulfill our wildest dreams or achieve our highest goals, noble though they be.  There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be more, of course, but just like John the Baptist, sometimes God calls us to be less (John 3:30).  The cynic lives in bitterness and regret over all that might have been.  The sage knows that sometimes less is more in the long-range economy of an omniscient and omnipotent God.  In this we can be content, giving Him our sincerest thanks and most joyous praise.