|
by
Shirley A. Mullen
’76
December 7, June 6, November 22, September 11—just dates on
the calendar, at first glance. Not, however, for anyone who
lived through December 7, 1941; June 6, 1944; November 22,
1963 or September 11, 2001. These are days etched forever in
our individual and collective cultural memories: the day the
Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor in a surprise attack, the day
the Allies stormed the beaches of Normandy, the day John F.
Kennedy was assassinated and the day planes plowed into the
World Trade Center. These days changed the world. One day
can make everything different—and sometimes it is
immediately evident.
There
are other days, however—days whose anniversaries pass
unnoticed—that also made a world-changing difference, though
no one knew it at the time. There was the day that Rosa
Parks sat down in the front of the bus instead of going to
the back as she had always done, the day in 1914 when
Gavrilo Princip shot the heir to the Austrian throne and set
off the chain of events that led to World War I, the day
that Lech Walesa formed the Solidarity Party in Poland or
the day Nelson Mandela went to prison in South Africa. Most
of the days that change the world and our lives are more
like these: we don’t recognize them at the time for what
they are.
A phone
call, a word of encouragement, an introduction at a party,
an unplanned meeting in the grocery store—turn out, when we
look back, to have changed our lives, although we didn’t
know it at the time. Yes, a day can make a difference. This
linear, contingent, uncertain and surprising reality of our
lives can be a source of great anxiety, or of great hope. We
get to choose—every day—which it will be.
With the
rapid pace of change in our culture and the never-ending
capacity of the world to shock us with new manifestations of
suffering and evil, there are plenty of reasons to be
anxious. It can be tempting to fall into patterns of denial,
despair or escapism. There are many who are choosing this
route.
Or, we
can take seriously what we believe as Christians—that we
serve a God who is at work every day in our lives and in our
world to bring about His creative and redemptive purposes.
(Sometimes we recognize His work. Most often we do not.) We
can remind ourselves that we serve a God who invites us—each
day, in small ways and sometimes large ones—to join with Him
in this creative and redemptive work of loving the world
back to Himself.
At
Houghton we are trying to cultivate an enlarged capacity for
seeing the world with God’s eyes—looking at it with ruthless
honesty, but also with the imagination that love and grace
make possible. We are practicing what it means to see in
each day the surprising potential of divine improvisation,
and the opportunities that God puts in our way to make our
lives count that day.
In Psalm
90, the psalmist reflects on the meaning of a day in the
light of eternity. A day certainly is not everything, but it
is something. In the context of particular days we are
invited to imitate the heart of our Father in Heaven,
invited to make a difference in the world for good. The
psalmist put it this way: “Teach us to number our days—that
we may gain a wise heart.”
Shirley Mullen ’76
is president of Houghton College.
Milieu welcomes your comments.
<
Previous story
l
Top of page
l
Next
story > |