Sunday, September 09, 2018
Sunday Reflection: The Lost
Not long ago, some people put together an internet site dedicated to my old high school. One feature on there was a listing of grads from each class who have died.
Naturally, I scrolled down to the part of the page that described my graduation year and those on either side on mine. And then I caught my breath.
How did all of these people die? With nearly every one, I had a memory, a little bit of shared history. And, with each one, I had no idea what happened after high school. I zoomed off in a different direction, moved far away, and made new friends.
But the tendrils of these other lives went in other directions, some of them tragic. I looked up obituaries; some of them described an illness, while others just laid out that the person had "died suddenly."
Human lives are so precious and so tenuous. I was always struck by the way Jesus seemed to see them all, the tragedies and joys around him. He noticed the lame and sick and poor, even those who just touched his cloak. I fall so short of that: I have a task in front of me and march towards it, undistracted by the lives on either side of me, before and behind me. I am blind. And I shouldn't be.
Naturally, I scrolled down to the part of the page that described my graduation year and those on either side on mine. And then I caught my breath.
How did all of these people die? With nearly every one, I had a memory, a little bit of shared history. And, with each one, I had no idea what happened after high school. I zoomed off in a different direction, moved far away, and made new friends.
But the tendrils of these other lives went in other directions, some of them tragic. I looked up obituaries; some of them described an illness, while others just laid out that the person had "died suddenly."
Human lives are so precious and so tenuous. I was always struck by the way Jesus seemed to see them all, the tragedies and joys around him. He noticed the lame and sick and poor, even those who just touched his cloak. I fall so short of that: I have a task in front of me and march towards it, undistracted by the lives on either side of me, before and behind me. I am blind. And I shouldn't be.
