That someone you are passing is made in God's image.

Take Time to say, "Hi."

Some of the news recently reminds me of my daily exercise walk. Besides that, I figure it's about time for an update on the pavement pounders. Kathy and I have walked on the route from the Yigo (jee-go) Fire Station to the "X," where the road is blocked, for over a year now.  At 3.2 miles/walk, I figure we've put in over 600 miles.  There are two rules that Kathy and I maintain as we walk. We walk fast, and we greet everyone we meet. We meet some famous and glamorous folk who, like us, are out for some exercise in the morning. Famous or not we speak to all of them. Unlike us, Sean Penn is a runner. We see him a couple of times a week. He has never introduced himself, but as I look at him through my sweat impaired eyes, as he is running one way and I am walking the other, I'm sure it is him. Even though he generally wears a hoodie, the nose is a giveaway. He's exactly what you would expect.  He always looks like he's puzzling through some deep existential crisis. He never smiles, but on occasion, he breaks his runners-high trance long enough to grunt a reply to our greeting. I'm not holding my breath for an invitation to his gated villa surrounded by Guamian jungle and few hundred guards. I've never heard anyone say anything about Penn living here. No doubt it's because he has sworn them to secrecy. Some of you are under the mistaken notion that Mr. Miyagi, Noriyuki "Pat" Morita is dead. No, he's alive and walking, and looking pretty good I might add. I always resist greeting him with "Wax on. Wax off," but he looks to me like he is still into catching flies. Though I resist the line from the movie, we always tell him hello. He is as friendly as he used to be in the movies. It's not as hard for him to blend in as it is for poor Sean. A Hafa Adai tee-shirt is all it takes for Miyagi-san to blend in with the island's Asian culture. There are a bunch of other regular greetees that I don't know as well. There is a guy who is either an Asian stock trader or a spy. I figure he has a hidden earphone he is listening to. He doesn't have time for us; he's either saving the world or becoming its richest man, so I understand. It's always a pleasure to see the world's best-dressed walker, bright, perky, hair well-groomed, and perfectly color coordinated. She, her less colorful companion, and the man they drag along, always return our greeting. Those we know well, some even by name, we begin to greet when we are about ten yards apart. That way we can have time for a brief exchange. For some, like Lily and Hector, an older couple who stroll along like they wouldn't mind spending all day on the little dead-end road, we'll often stop and chat for fifteen or twenty seconds. Two things are true about all our companions. None of the walkers pass us, and we greet them all, even the Asian sage, no doubt a descendant of Confucius, who is even less talkative than Sean. Recently the news has been full of reports that President Trump said some unfortunate things about some of the people in the world. He and his spokesmen deny it. Me? I'm following the lead of Penn and the Sage. Whether he said what others say he said or not, is beside my point. The news gives us opportunity to ask: Why should we show respect and kindness to everyone we meet on life's walk? Some don't return our kindness, some even treat us badly, though we treat them well. James confronts his far-flung congregation, folk who had met more than their share of ill-treatment, with a basic reality. James 3:9–10 (NASB95) With [the tongue] we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse men, who have been made in the likeness of God;  from the same mouth come both blessing and cursing. My brethren, these things ought not to be this way. The Apostle Paul says that our speech should be that which builds up, not tears down. Why? Because people are created in God's image. They should be treated as such. The next time I walk down that road in Yigo, indeed, wherever I walk for the rest of my days, I will never meet a human being who is not worthy of respect and kindness, because everyone I meet is a bearer of the image of the God of the universe.  It's STTA.

Something Is Wrong!

Take a moment and look at that picture.  Look again.  Look yet again, and be reminded that Lorraine Bayless is a real person.  We know from news stories that she had a daughter.  Did she sew, play cards, listen to music, maybe she was a baseball fan?  Tracey Halvorson , the dispatcher who handled the call that came in requesting help for Lorraine, identified her as a "human."  

By now the 

Video: Woman's Refusal to Administer CPR Sparks Controversy

is probably familiar.  Lorraine collapsed.  It looked like a heart attack.  The nurse at the independent living home where Lorraine lived called 911.  The dispatcher tried to get the nurse to do CPR.  When she said it was against policy, Tracey begged for the nurse to get somebody else who was willing to help her.  The non-nursing nurse said she couldn't do that.  It is against policy.

Look at that picture once again.  We aren't discussing a policy, here.  Lorraine Bayless is a human being, one who bears the image of God.  To paraphrase John Donne,

"Ask not for whom the 911 call is made.  

It is made for thee."

 

Maybe I'm making too much of this, but I just watched a BCC documentary series on Auschwitz.  The policyargument sounds remarkably familiar.  When policies discourage people from helping, or trying to help, others something is wrong with policy and the culture that produced those policies.  When potential Good Samaritans consult the manual before they consult their hearts something is wrong.  When our hearts allow us to glibly quote policy while someone is dying, something is wrong.  

"Are we going to let this lady die?"  ". . . is there anybody that's willing to help this lady and not let her die?"  Tracey, the dispatcher, asked with obvious concern.  

"Not at this time." was the sad reply.

 

Something is wrong, and  

 

 It's STTA.