MISSION UPDATE: Lessons

About two weeks ago, I was driving home from town when I noticed an ambulance making a u-turn in the road away from a small gathering of people. I braced myself knowing I was likely about to pass the scene of an accident but since the ambulance had been pulling away, I wasn't expecting to see any victims of the accident.

In truth, I saw far more than I could reasonably handle on a day that already felt overwhelming (I had dropped Austin, Lilyann, Hannah and Abi off at the bus station to start their trip back to the US).

As I moved slowly passed the crowd, my eyes involuntarily moved toward what they were gathered looking at and I saw a lady, about my age, lifeless on the ground. I knew right away she had already died and yet she was just laying there with her face turned straight toward me.

I think that's part of why I haven't been able to shake it. Somebody's daughter, mother, sister, friend, wife ... she'd been driving down that road on her motorbike having no idea she was taking in her final moments. I still don't know what caused it, but she lost control of her motorbike and hit a light pole, dying instantly.

Her face. I see her face in my mind daily. And I just keep thinking, you never know. You just never know.

What was her day like before that crash? What were her words like when she last spoke with the ones she loved? What unfinished business had she left behind? What opportunities would she never have again?

All that sounds depressing and morbid and like something a person shouldn't fixate on. And yet, for me, it's been a reality check. If I woke up today not realizing it was my last, how would I wish I had spent those final hours? What kind of words would have wanted to speak? What would I have wanted to take care of before there wasn't another chance? What opportunity to serve God would I wish I had taken?

That. Those things. That's what matters.

When you're faced with the mortality of humanity, staring it in the eye, the unimportant has a way of fading into nothingness. The things we get hung up on are rarely the things we'd be bothering with if we knew we were walking out our final moments.

Perspective. Temporal versus eternal.

God asked us to come here almost 8 years ago and then we spent a year preparing to go. It's been nearly 7 years of walking this foreign path and having our perspectives shift and change as the chasm between the temporal and the eternal visibly widens. We don't yearn for the same things we once did.

Lately what's bothered me most is the sacrifice of life with my family and friends in my native country. I sometimes realize I'm grieving that I don't get to do life with my adult sons. Seeing them once a year or so for a few days ... it's not enough. Not being a part of their holidays or vacations or special occasions is a painful reality of walking this path of obedience. I don't know why God has asked it of me. Of us. Sometimes I'm so overwhelmed by what I'm missing that I find myself fighting tears and wondering if it'll all be worth it.

This morning I got a message from my oldest son, Micah, and he reminded me that it will, in fact, be worth it. Just a snippet of his message said, "...that's the beauty of not being on this earth forever ... greater mission ... don't forget that."

We're in Thailand on a greater mission that requires us to remember this isn't forever. If we steward our time here well, we might be asked to give up temporal time with those we love, but if it pays in eternal dividends, forever life with them is just ahead!

I want to live these days and hours, weeks and months that I've been given with eyes fixed on what matters. Because if I'm called to lay down and rest before Jesus comes, I want it to be in peace knowing I knew what mattered, and what didn't.

Serving Him here in this life full of trial, mingled with abundant blessing, is something I wouldn't have chosen, but also wouldn't trade.

The lady I saw on the road that day didn't die in vain. She taught me what I already knew, but had almost forgotten. And I'm grateful.