What If This Is Your Last Chance To Change The World?

What if this really is the last hour of your life?

None of us are guaranteed to live another decade, not even the millennial’s reading this. All we know is that we have this present moment.

So what are you doing to see the world changed for the better?

I know this isn’t a new message. In fact I’m sure you’ve been asked this question before. If not word for word at least something similar.

When I see questions like this, I tend to roll my eyes and think about how over-dramatic the writer is being. Look at that, I’m a hypocrite, because now I’m writing my own version of the “What would you do with your last hour of life”.

I don’t expect everyone I want to read this, but if you are, thank you. Thank you for being teachable.

Death teaches us to live humbly

Recently, a friend of mine passed away. It was sudden and completely unexpected and I’m still grieving. When I ponder this person’s life and the huge impact even our few short times together had on me, it challenges me and makes me wonder what kind of an impact I have on others.

We weren’t close, but the impact was significant.

Can people who have passed through my life say the same thing about me? Probably not and when I investigate deeper, I know it’s because I take life for granted.

I get angry at a co-worker, or decide to sleep in on a Sunday morning instead of going to church. Even though I know I shouldn’t snap at my colleague and I should go to church instead of sleeping in, I always tell myself, “Tomorrow I’ll be better.”

But I’m not guaranteed tomorrow.

The realisation, if you really let it hit you will make you question your motives for even your lazy days.

The truth is, to be a world changer, you’ve got to be faithful, even when you don’t feel like it.

Hard work teaches us to live fully

Have you ever seen the movie “Yes Man”?

The entire film is about a guy who becomes incapable of saying “No” to anything. This forces him to try things he never wanted to try and in turn gives him a richer life because of the experiences.
It’s a good concept and one we should try in our own lives.

I’m not saying you should say yes to everything, but you should stop saying no to the things you’ve committed to and start doing those things with the idea that it may be the last time you get to do it.

Instead of snapping at my work mate, I should consider how they’re feeling and respond in love. Instead of sleeping in on a Sunday morning, I should go to church and make real connections with the people there. In fact, I should go the extra mile and offer to help set up the chairs for the service.

Yes, it can be hard work sometimes, especially after a long stressful week, but think of Hercules and, “Go the distance.” This mythical figure could have thrown a lot of excuses into the mix and stopped working hard for his hero status, but he didn’t. He went the distance.

Of course, this is all very easy to say and I’ve no doubt you’ve read articles like this before.

In fact if you’ve read all the way through this, you get a gold star in my books.

And truth be told, you give me hope for the human race, that there are people who still want to be world changers. Who are teachable and take the time to give one hundred percent to everything they do, even if it’s reading something I’m sure they’ve heard a thousand times before.

This is my encouragement to you. Keep pressing in to God, keep living one hundred percent and when you have those days where the pressure of being a world changer is getting you down. I hope you remember this silly article and know you’re not alone.

Let’s be world changers together.


Originally published on Christian Today.

Be brave like the Snowbell

It thrives in cold climates. Lives in rocky, wet places. Prefers to be up high. On a mountain where the snow stays longest. Harsh conditions are best. Where it's strongest. Toughest.

Sounds romantic doesn't it? It's not.

It's lonely, cold. Harsh. The reality of this awesome place takes your breath away in its majestic beauty, but it also rips you apart. Bruises. Batters. Yet this is where, if you're brave, you find a small, delicate, violet flower. A Snowbell.

Snowbells grow under the snow. Imagine a domed roof of crystal. Sounds enchanting. Magical. It's incubated. Living in a warm haven from the cold world outside. Safe. But it doesn't stay there. It pushes through its protective palace. To blossom. To reveal its hidden beauty.

I first learn about this little flower just days before my mom calls with news that brings quick tears to my eyes. My beloved, loving aunt has passed away... For four days I hid in my house, watching what my housemate calls "depressing" movies. I'm caught off guard when she says that. To me they are deep and inspiring stories. I reluctantly pull back and examine them. They are depressing. All the films I choose are about eccentric, dysfunctional families. Where someone dies and the rest try to figure out how to keep going after their loved ones are gone.

This is how I process. I watch movies that remind me of my wonderful, quirky family. I cry with the characters as they learn how to say goodbye because, the truth is, I can't be with my family. I'm half way across the world from them.

I hate goodbyes.

I hate harsh realities.

But a little, purple flower keeps slapping me in the face.

Life is a lot like a Snowbell. Only I never feel quite ready to break into the cold world. There are moments I think I'm brave. Think that I'll push forward. But its a lot harder than I imagine. My aunt is gone and now there's a big hole.

I mourn. But not for her. She's in a better place. She's pain free and experiencing real life. She's pushed through the last snowflake domed roof this life can throw at her.

Her beauty is no longer hidden.

It's revealed.

I want to be like her and the Snowbell.

I can't join her. She's gone where I cannot follow. At least not right now. But I can and must use the hard things life throws at me to grow. I must push through life's snow domed impossibilities. Like saying goodbye. I realize I haven't made my heart public yet. My family has filled the pages of Facebook with their heart. I can't. It's not safe and all the words in the world feel empty and hollow. I can say I love her, it's true. I can say that I miss her. That I hurt for the family she leaves behind. It's all true but the words still feel void. Just like the emptiness I feel knowing I'll never hug her again. Never again hear her familiar, wonderful laughter. Laughter that tells me I am home. That I am with my family.

But I'm trying to be like my aunt. And like the Snowbell.

I must be vulnerable and brave.

Even when brick walls try to smother my progress. I must live. Really live. So here's my heart. It hurts. I'm confused. I miss my family. I miss my aunt... I remember she once bought me a thick, red towel. I remember she talked funny when she said "I love you, Cari". I remember she took me to Casa Bonita and the movies. I remember when she got excited about the plays she was in. I remember singing in the car with her and my cousins. I remember when she let herself be vulnerable in front of me and cried. I remember she opened her car by putting the remote under her chin. It always made me laugh. Seems silly that this is what I remember most. That silly remote. But it's real and the memories bring fresh pain. Just like the icy cold the Snowbell must feel the first time the bud pushes against the snow dome.

Letting the pain in doesn't feel good, but it's healthy. How else does the Snowbell reveal its bright royal colors? How else do we learn to really laugh?

And joy comes in the morning. I know it. The glorious sun shines down on the Snowbell and keeps it warm. The bright light causes the snow to sparkle. The Comforter stands next to my family. Next to me. I can release the pain and let the beauty in. I can laugh again.

My family is all together today, celebrating the life of my aunt. I wish I was there, but I'm still half way across the world. I hear the funeral was wonderful. Heart-warming. I'm not surprised. She was an amazing, loving woman. A great mother and wife. A wonderful aunt. I hear its snowing there now. Filling that world with wonderful, clean snow. How miraculous. My aunt. The Snowbell. Adorned with diamond jewels of crystalline snow.

No longer hidden.

Fully revealed.