Indifferent Lethality

Apologies are rare.

Waiting for an apology can be lonely, particularly when the source of the offense carries on indifferently.  Unapologetic indifference smacks of arrogance.

Smacking the arrogant beats apology.

An introduction to indifference came while reading of Mount Everest.  Climbers have written about their experiences and often mention the mountain's permission.  March to May and September to November are seasons the mountain allows climbing.

Allowances, however, are accompanied by peril.

Every year, a climber dies but the mountain never apologizes.  Rather, an indifferent lethality looms.  "Climb if you want; summit if you can; die as you try.  One matters as little as the other to me," whispers Everest.  

Mountains whisper and so do oceans.

Reading of a mountain's indifferent lethality helped me recognize the same in the Pacific Ocean.  Members of First Baptist Church of Honolulu invited to an open water swim.  Swimming with strangers, in the ocean, seemed like fun until the practice swim the day before.

Entering the water, and rocking in the surf, I heard the ocean whisper, "Notice my indifference to your awe."  Depths are described in Genesis and Revelation. 

And the sea gave up the dead who were in it...~ Revelation 20:13

While preparing for play, the ocean reminded of peril.  A watery grave, like a mountainous grave, yawned impersonally.  "Whether I fill a grave today, or empty the graves one day, I'm still beautiful, expansive and powerful.  Play in me, or die in me; makes me no nevermind."

Mountains, oceans and the road are indifferent.

Riding along with police officers exposes an indifferent lethality.  In a decade, every officer has taken me out and brought me safely home, but each understands the road is beyond an officer's control.  To ride, a waiver has to be signed.  

Signing acknowledges risks tied to ride alongs.  Adventurists' ears are deafened to the still small voice of the road.  Like Everest, and the Pacific, the road demonstrates an indifferent lethality.  Aging has made my ear more keen to the road's reminder.

Lansing officers witness the road's indifference.  Mangled, missing and molding bodies prompt citizens to call for help.  Riding with a 20-something exposes the officer's fearlessness.  Riding as a 50-something reminds there's much to fear.   

A police chief is rarely 20-something.  One chief, ruminating on an officer's injuries, said "He knew the risks."  The chief's attention had to turn toward staffing challenges and the recruitment of more 20-somethings.  Heartless and cold as it may seem, the chief was at peace with the road's indifference.  Morbidity and mortality are woven into the fabric of law enforcement.

Riding along exposes to indifferent lethality and the older I get, the more I see that this work may be fatal.  

Do I quit or keep going?

Today, I'm going to keep going because Jesus has called me to, "Go down there, knock on the door and make some friends."  If He returns, and finds me riding with fear and trembling, yes please.  If I die and meet Him as a result of obeying what I heard, yes please.

Our children are grown and my wife's insurance payout will be adequate.  I would rather be killed as a chaplain than a oceanic thrill-seeker.  Watery depths and mountainous heights hold their own peril.  Risking my life for an adrenaline rush seems foolish.

Pouring my all into a Christ-centered work feels faithful.  May the road's indifferent lethality be used for God's purposes.  

Come Lord Jesus come.