Impact

I witnessed a car accident this week.  I was in the turning lane and a car went through a light and flipped the car in front of me.  In that moment, right before the breaking of glass and the crashing of metal and the blaring of a horn, I braced for impact.  My foot stomped on the brakes and I shouted out, "God, no!" 

I'm not the kind of person who was born with the first-responder gene. I hate blood.  I don't do well with injuries.  Wiggly teeth make my stomach turn. I am not the person you want around in times of emergency.  I'm the one who calls 911 while standing in the middle of the road and can't speak in complete sentences or recall names of roads to direct the authorities to.  I am struck by the impact and in many ways I'm rendered absolutely useless.  In that moment, the metaphorical storm threatens to consume me.

I keep coming back to that moment of impact.  I think about my thankfulness for being in a place where police and fire-fighters and emergency medical technicians are available when needed.  I think about the woman who was driving the car that caused all that damage and the look of shock and horror on her face when she climbed out of her car.  I think about timing and what a couple of seconds difference would have meant.  I think about God watching over this world and these people, His creation.  How His heart must ache with the brokenness and the pain and suffering that often seems to reign in this life.  

Shortly after driving away from a scene full of flashing lights and professionals in vests with radios and medical bags, I drove past a flock of birds soaring through the sky.  With sirens still blaring in the distance, I watched in awe at these birds soaring through the sky.  Unlike me, they weren't shaken or troubled or feeling a growing sense of fear. They were a perfect picture of the passage from Matthew 6...

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, 

what you will eat or drink; 

or about your body, what you will wear. 

Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 

26 Look at the birds of the air; 

they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, 

and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. 

Are you not much more valuable than they? 

27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

28 “And why do you worry about clothes? 

See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. 

29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor 

was dressed like one of these. 

30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, 

which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, 

will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 

31 So do not worry, saying, 

‘What shall we eat?’ 

or ‘What shall we drink?’ 

or ‘What shall we wear?’ 

32 For the pagans run after all these things, 

and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 

33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, 

and all these things will be given to you as well. 

34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, 

for tomorrow will worry about itself.

 Each day has enough trouble of its own.

I am the bird whose feathers are easily ruffled.  In the most practical of ways, I live and believe that being tight-fisted with this life will somehow preserve it.  I seek out what is rational and sensible and practical.  I plan and manage and try to control.  I worry and fixate and try to find a strategy for life to be safe and ordered and in my control.  And then comes the moment of impact... 

Maybe it's something relatively minor, like a disappointment at work or a broken car.  Maybe it's something on-going and trying like relational friction and brokenness or sharing life with those struggling with addiction.  Or, maybe it's something tragic and sudden and earth-shaking, like the death of a loved one.  When that moment of impact comes, I realize that the kingdom that I've been trying to create cannot stand.  I'm confronted once again, in those moments of impact, with the God who has so impacted this life.  He has stepped in and freed me from the need to be in control. Instead, He speaks, sometimes through painful impacts, and reminds me of who He is.  He is the God who is working to make all things new.  He, and He alone, is the good, sovereign, and purposeful God.  He is the one who makes open-handedness possible. It is because of Christ that living a full life of faith is a present reality.

Of course, it's not a perfect walk!  Instead, it's a winding journey.  There are moments of fear and frustration, anger and anxiety.  But even in these moments of impact, He calls us to Himself and reminds us of the grace that He has poured into our lives. And then He calls us to move outside of our control.  He says, "This is the way, walk in it."  He gives us opportunities to step into the moments of impact in the lives of others and speak His love and truth to them.  He places us in circumstances where His impact will be known. And for this, I'm so thankful.

Tomorrow morning at early o'clock my sister will take me to the airport.  I'll take a day's journey to Haiti.  There I'll be reunited with dear friends.  I'll see what moments of impact have shaped their lives since last summer.  I know there will be great joy as we rejoice over moments of impact that speak of health and provision and new life. There will also be sorrow as we walk through painful moments of impact caused by poverty and loss and uncertainty.  


I am thankful to once again be able to share these moments of impact with you all!  Thank you for your love and friendship and support! Thank you for sharing in life and the moments of impact with me. And thank you for being willing to join me again in another summer's journey to Haiti!  Much love in Christ, Jessie :)