Forced to Pause and Ponder

Monday morning I wrote some letters and went to put them out by the mailbox, when I was informed by our church secretary that the mail-man had already come.  I had just missed him.  It was 10 a.m.  I really wanted the letters to go out that day, so I decided to deposit them in the postal box at the end of our street.  I noticed that traffic had been blocked off, but I assumed it was because of utility work being done.

As I approached the corner, I knew there was something far more critical and serious going on.  Just moments earlier, the Weymouth police officer working the traffic detail at the utility site was struck and killed by a pick-up truck after its driver ignored a stop sign and sped through the inter-section, pinning the officer to the National Grid truck.  It was a gruesome scene, and the officer was pronounced dead upon the ambulance's arrival at the hospital just a half-mile away.

The officer who was killed was only 34 years old.  He leaves behind his wife and three children - ages 14, 9, and 6.  No doubt what started out as a normal day for this family became a tragic one that will forever alter their lives.

The utility crew had just finished working, too.  They were wrapping things up, getting ready to leave.  Then in the blink of an eye - a single breath - a life is snuffed out.  As I stood there at the intersection, I saw some personal effects where the officer had been standing.  Perhaps he had been finishing up a cup of coffee ... or talking to one of the utility guys ... maybe getting ready to put in a call to his wife or the station.  One second he's here, alive and well; the next second he's crushed between two trucks.  Gone.  Dead.

How many times do I walk to that street corner to mail a letter or walk to the gym?  My boys probably walk to that street corner half a dozen times a day to grab a snack, drink, or gallon of milk (for Mom) at Cumberland Farms.  How easily that could have been one of us struck and killed on a normal day, in a completely unanticipated moment.

This to me is a powerful reminder of how brief and unpredictable life is.  It forces me to ask questions like:

• How would I live today differently if I knew it were my last day on earth?
• In what manner did I leave my home this morning?  Were my last words ones of anger, frustration or rebuke?  Or were they ones of love, affirmation, and encouragement?
• Are there any other relationships in my life that need to be mended or restored?  Have I done my best to live peaceably with all men (Rom. 12:18)?
• Am I consciously, prayerfully, earnestly looking for opportunities to share the Gospel with the lost?  The people that cross my path today may be gone tomorrow.  Am I innocent of the blood of all men (Acts 20:26)?
• Have I allowed the tyranny of the urgent to crowd out the most important things in life?
• What about this very moment?  If in the blink of an eye I was with my Savior, would He be pleased with what I was doing that split-second in time that He called me home?

Lord, "teach us to number our days, that we may get a heart of wisdom" (Psalm 90:12).

That Day is Here

Years ago I served on the pastoral staff at Immanuel Baptist Church in Richmond, Virginia.  During that season of our lives (1991-1994), something happened that I have never forgotten and have been thinking about a lot the last few days.

I was walking from the church secretary's office to my office, when I passed by the senior pastor and another associate pastor who were engaged in conversation.  The senior pastor had just returned from taking his daughter, his oldest child, to college.  As I walked by these fellow pastors, I heard the associate pastor ask, "So how was it, dropping her off?"  The senior pastor responded, "Alana [his daughter] did pretty well.  But it was tougher on me than I expected.  I couldn't keep back the tears."  

When I heard him say that, I remarked, "Man, I don't want to hear this!  My daughter is still in diapers!"  It was at that point that my pastor looked me square in the eye and said with dead-seriousness, "My daughter was in diapers yesterday.  Your daughter will be gone before you know it."  The way he said that, and the way he looked at me as he said it - I knew he was dead right.  I knew the day of my daughter's departure would come all too quickly.

That day is here.  It is a day of mixed emotions, to say the least.  It is a day of celebration, knowing that Megan is about to enter a marvelous new phase of her life.  God has wired her for this.  "To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven" (Eccl. 3:1).  Megan has blossomed into a beautiful young lady, and her parents rejoice in that.  

Yet this day is also one of sadness for us.  It will be difficult having one less chair around the dinner table.  It won't be easy seeing so much of Megan's stuff gone.  I will miss praying over her with the rest of the children each night before bed.  Ruthie especially will miss the companionship of the only other female in our household.  (Boys can be so, well, unladylike!)  Megan's daily presence has added so much wholesomeness (and humor) to our household.  Life in the Fletcher household simply won't be the same without her.  So, yes, our celebration is mixed with a measure of sadness.

As I look back on my years with Megan, I see many imperfections in my parenting.  The only perfect father Megan has ever had, without question, is her heavenly Father.  I hope that despite my failures and shortcomings I have pointed her to Him, and I pray that she will seek the Lord all the days of her life.  No matter where she goes, she has a Friend who sticks closer than a brother - one who will never leave her nor forsake her (Heb. 13:5).

Gracious heavenly Father, watch over our daughter.  The fact is, You love Megan far more than we do (as hard as that is to comprehend), and You alone have the power to "preserve [her] going out and [her] coming in from this time forth, and even forevermore" (Psalm 121:8).  Please do so, O God, and may Megan walk worth of the gospel; may her life bring You glory.

Even as I wrote this brief prayer, my phone rang.  It was Megan, asking me where I am.  She says, "It's time to go."  Yes, it is.

Tombstone

It's amazing how God can cause a few incidents to converge in order to make a point.  

I began my day as I usually do, sitting in my easy chair in our living room with my Bible and morning cup of coffee.  While reading through Jeremiah, I came across this verse:

"A beautiful ... palace does not make a great king" (Jer. 22:15 NLT).

God sent this message by His prophet to Jehoiakim, the king of Judah, who was building a bigger and better house for himself on the backs of his unpaid and oppressed laborers.   He thought that by building a big, beautiful palace it would speak well of his kingship.  But God sent a scathing denunciation to inform him otherwise.  Having a great palace doesn't make you a great person.  Centuries later, Jesus said, "Watch out!  Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions" (Luke 12:15).

That verse from Jeremiah stuck with me as I started my day.  

Later on, I dropped off our van to be serviced.  The auto technician said it would take about an hour (it actually took about three), so I took a stroll.  Eventually I walked by a cemetery and saw row after row of tombstones.  I thought, "All the people in there are dead." (Very perceptive, don't you think?)  "Every one of them was alive at some point, but now they're all dead.  Someday I'm going to be dead." This thought no sooner crossed my mind, than I saw it - a tombstone that bore in big, capital letters the name FLETCHER.

That inscription stuck with me as I continued my walk.

This afternoon I was on my computer getting ready to write this blog, when I received a link to this following video clip of John Piper preaching to thousands of young people.  This was the icing on the cake.  Watch it; it's well worth your time.

Don't waste your life.  Make it count for Christ.