They were thrown, although they appeared as if out of nowhere, as if they had popped into thin air after a journey across dimensions. Gravity pressed them downward, and tires knocked them about, and they stopped there, square in the middle of the road, and I almost rescued them but I didn’t.
I judged the person who threw them for littering, I’ll admit, but not for very longer. Instead I thought of how they could be reused, how our church deliberately collects them and takes them to Africa every August. They had been thrown by someone driving and landed in the lane going the opposite direction as me, and I wondered how crazy I would be to jump out of my car right quick and pick them up.
I checked oncoming traffic and miraculously, it was clear, but I didn’t unbuckle my seat belt, I didn’t open my car door, I didn’t move.
There is a threat to the Church and his name is Complacency. He is one of Satan’s most successful servants.
He will keep us on our couches, in our comfy church pews, in our leather driver’s seats. He will keep us doing the same things for the same reasons with the same perspectives if we don’t see him, fight him, pray against him.
He will let us drive past people in need, past cities in desperate need of our service, past schools and churches and homes filled with children who need us to pray with desperation and conviction to be the best example of Christ we can be to them.
He will let us drive past them in the road. They could’ve irrevocably broadened the perspective of one person across the ocean, and I let them stay there, in the middle of the road, to potentially cause harm instead of good.
It is the everyday, the ordinary, that God will use to transform our lives if we let Him. Complacency does not have to win, because our God already did.
Two pieces of wood, three thick nails, one human body, and yet the combination yielded deicide and paved the way for divine victory.
And so what might have two lenses and a metal frame have done in His hands?
Let me tell you a story about a pair of glasses that somebody threw in the middle of the road in Bloomfield Township, Michigan.
In one ending, they are rescued by a woman who was unafraid to be called crazy by people who would never see her again. They are placed next to a pair of her own glasses, long since useless to her. She will put both pairs in a basket in August and not even a few weeks later, they will be carefully packed in a suitcase whose owner is bound for Uganda. The owner will spend their time there ministering to people by treating medical conditions. One of those people will be a person whose sight is poor, and they will put these glasses on to see as, for a long time, they have not been able.
In another ending, the same woman of the previous ending drives past them, wrestling fiercely with but ultimately defeated by the fear of running into opposing yet nonexistent traffic and being called crazy by the people behind her. She will think about the glasses she left behind and the person who could have benefitted from them for half a mile after they are gone from her sight, itself augmented and fortified by lenses, and she will imagine their fate, crushed by tires, potentially embedded in one or two or five; she will think of the owners who may have to spend $200 or more to replace these tires pierced by glass.
Ultimately, she will go home and she will write a blog post about it, wishing back the moment and regretting that she left a pair of glasses behind after someone tossed them in the road.