The tear that changed the world

By Craige McMillan

There were a lot of tears in the room where I spent Saturday morning.
They seeped out the edges of the eyelids of the elderly — those thought
past the time of their usefulness to society. They rolled down the
cheeks of the young — those not yet out of school, yet looking
anxiously toward their future. They clouded the eyes of those in the
middle years of their lives. And the tears flowed freely down the faces
of those who mounted the platform and told their story.

In a world adrift in a sea of change — daily enveloping us with the
latest technological marvel, the waves of its impact swarming over our
heads with yet another new social disaster — change seems everywhere,
as omnipresent as God himself.

Why, then, is change inside the four walls of ourselves so difficult
to come by? Why do we still settle our differences with violence;
satisfy our cravings with drugs and alcohol; and leave our lives and
souls a rotted-out caricature of the people we could have been? Why is
the census still counting the poor among us — when our government
generations ago diverted its power and resources to a war against
poverty?

Every election cycle brings the same empty promises of change for the
better — and the same dashed hopes four years later. In our collective
folly, we vote for the loudest voice mouthing the biggest lies — all
because we want “change” but we refuse to pay the price. We want
children to stop killing children. We want moms and dads who stay
together. We want schoolchildren educated to understand the world today
— and shape it tomorrow.

We want a silver bullet — when what it takes is a salty tear,
rolling down an aged face, or over a soft, young cheek. One by one, they
came up to the platform. A handshake or a hug from the Union Gospel
Mission’s executive director. A certificate in a black plastic frame,
clutched tightly to the heart while the eyes fight back more tears, and
a woman makes her way back into the audience. Applause, while the next
name is called out and a man shuffles forward, embarrassed at being
singled out and called up to the platform.

“I am a life that was changed,” sings a slender black man. And the
stories come out. Told by the men and women we step over on the street,
or the frightening panhandler we cross the street to avoid. Driven
finally by their need to the only place with an open door. Tutored by
the teacher who volunteers an evening a week. A smile restored by the
dentist who closes her office once a month and repairs rotted teeth for
free. By the assistant who passes her the instruments. The mother and
child given a place of refuge from the next beating, because an attorney
donates Saturdays to protective orders. The church group that faithfully
cooks a meal every Friday evening for 300 homeless. Before them stands
the evidence of their faithfulness, as the singer repeats the chorus, “I
am a life that was changed,” and bears the life-changes to prove it.

Every day God gives each us a choice. We can shed tears of grief and
pain while we cradle the murdered child in our arms, and try to
comprehend the mind of his childhood murderer — or we can shed tears of
joy as we take our place alongside the tutor ascending the platform at
the gospel mission, who teaches English, the dentist who donates a day
but needs an assistant, the cook who needs a kitchen crew, or the
volunteer coordinator who needs help on the telephones. Embarrassed,
humble, knowing full well that God has already repaid the debt in
spades, they make their way onto the platform.

“Thank you,” Herb Pfiffner, the Union Gospel Mission executive
director says, shaking their hands and looking into their eyes as both
fight back the tears. “We really couldn’t have done it without you!”

God has ordained that in this fallen world that has turned its back
on Him, we will all shed tears. But as ever, He gives us a choice. We
can believe the lie that “government” or somebody else is going to fix
it; we can elect the next demagogue with the loudest and most colorful
promises, leaving us free to get on with the business of our lives. We
can step carefully over those who sleep on the pavement underneath our
feet. Or we can trust that God is who he says he is, and follow the path
chosen by his Son, who said simply:

“He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life
for my sake shall find it” –Jesus (quoted in Matthew 10:39).

The kind of choice we make determines the kind of tears we will shed
in this world, for shed them we will. God leaves the choice — whether
of grief or joy — in our hands.

Author’s note: This event took place Saturday, April 29, at the
Union Gospel Mission in Seattle, Washington. It is repeated across our
nation by other Americans who give so freely of themselves. Contact the
Seattle Union Gospel Mission at POB 202, Seattle WA 98111;
(206)723-0767; or

via email.

Craige McMillan

Craige McMillan is a longtime commentator for WND. Read more of Craige McMillan's articles here.