I love my car. It is a 2016 Honda CR-V and I bought it for all the right reasons: It’s All Wheel Drive, gets great gas mileage, has a huge cargo space that can hold up to four sets of golf clubs and then some, and the most important reason … it made me look hip. That is I thought it did until I did a little research and learned that the average CR-V owner is a sixty-year-old woman and then my hipness plummeted.


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I mention this now because Cecil (my CR-V) is in the shop––the victim of a younger driver who was driving a lifted Ford 250 Super Cab. Said driver was unaware that I was sitting in the right turn lane that he suddenly realized he needed. Unaware, that is, until he backed into me.

I could see it coming, and even though he was only going about five mph and I wasn’t going anywhere, there was enough damage to warrant a hefty repair bill.

Though I was shook up, I can’t say that I was upset, because Cecil’s dents came right in the middle of the California wildfires that were blazing out of control, eating up everything in their paths. People lost houses and loved ones. Cecil was still able to be driven.

But that wasn’t my only lesson in perspective. The day I dropped him off at the shop was the same day a friend of mine returned from San Francisco from her yearly post-cancer check up. She had an all clear. She is still cancer free. Cecil is a car.

This isn’t my first lesson in perspective, and I am sure it won’t be my last. As things happen, I have to remember that these inconveniences––even the expensive ones––pale in comparison to real heartaches and tragedies.

And finally, I need to remind myself of the most important perspective we need to have––the eternal perspective: Even in our safest of times, when life and property feel most secure, both will eventually pass away. Then what?     

The world is passing away, and also its lusts; but the one who does the will of God lives forever. (1 John 2:17)

I am a golf junkie. Though I played competitive tennis through high school and college, over the years I have decided that walking on grass is a lot nicer than running on hard court. Therefore, I jumped ship, closeted my rackets, and invested more time and money into a sport that brings 80% heartache most of the time, more than any other pastime I have ever pursued.

So being the lover of golf that I am, on Sunday, September 28, 2014, I was up by 4 a.m. and in front of the TV watching the Ryder Cup and praying that the US could overcome a 10-6 deficit by having a miraculous comeback in the singles on foreign soil.

It wasn’t unheard of. The Europeans had accomplished such a feat just two years earlier on American soil.

I had texted my friends informing them that they probably wouldn’t see me at the early church service as I would be glued to the TV watching the contest to the bitter end. (Obviously, I had my priorities.)

Well, by 7:30 in the morning, it was apparent the miracle was not going to occur. By 8:15 Europe had won the final point they needed to retain the Cup. Though there were matches still being played that would carry on till 10 a.m. or longer, I didn’t see any need to hang around. I could now make the early service.

When I entered the foyer to the sanctuary, I noticed an inordinate number of people clustered around the back of the sanctuary by the sound booth. There was also an unusual hush. Normally, the place was bustling with greetings and laughter. Not today. I soon learned why. A long time church and choir member had gone down suddenly. CPR was being administered and the choir was leading all those close by in prayer. A few moments later first responders came to whisk her away to the hospital. I just watched. A third of the way into the service, word came that she had passed away. I sat in my seat caught in my world of messed up priorities.

An hour ago, I had been listening to golf commentators describing a certain shot or match scenario as “do or die.” Not even close. Suddenly, the immediacy or one’s death again became a reality, and the importance of each person knowing God’s love and saving grace was magnified to the importance it should have always had. Golf is a game. Death is the doorway to meeting God face to face, whether to be embraced as an adopted son or daughter or to be sentenced to an eternity in hell for rejecting God’s gift.

Perspective… God’s perspective.

First published March 18, 2015