Image by Stephan Wusowski from Pixabay 

June 7, 2022, started out in normal fashion as I began my morning ride across Kipling Boulevard to get to Crown Hill Park. For years I have loved riding my purple cruiser bike with the cushy seat and matching purple helmet along the many dirt paths of this lovely (and nearby) recreation area. Often, I venture through an open gate to also ride the peaceful roads of Crown Hill Cemetery, adjacent to the park. I’ll stop at my parents’ grave to pray, or I’ll remember the fun we had as kids riding our bikes through the cemetery’s powerful sprinklers to cool off during the heat of summer.  I’ll recall how my brother, Mark, did grounds work at the cemetery for several summers. He’d come home in a grease-stained work jumper, wreaking of petroleum, and we would all urge him toward the shower.

On this day, however, I was not to have a peaceful, memory-filled ride. As always, I waited for the “walk” sign, before crossing. As I rode in front of the stopped southbound traffic on Kipling, I looked behind me noting an eastbound car on 26^th Avenue in the left turn lane. It was stopped, so I proceeded, paying closer attention to the possibility of westbound drivers impatiently turning right, unwilling to yield to pedestrian and bicycle traffic. Well, the eastbound left-turning driver was the one who didn’t yield. I was hit from behind. My first thought was this could be it for me, not knowing if I might also be run over. I twirled, flew, and hit the pavement. And I was in pain. God bless the young man who hit me, for he did stop to assist. And God really bless all first responders, for their roles are vital. After a long day in the emergency room, filled with X-rays and CT scans and waiting for someone to please clean my road rash wound, I was sent home, beaten up and bruised, but still intact.

The impact of the accident disrupted a familiar routine. That’s what impact does, right?  It disrupts. It twists. It inserts itself into our lives and moves us in directions we never intended to take. Impact will not be ignored. Impact insists on changing what’s comfortable.

Impact occurs in less tangible ways too. Words* and actions either hit us hard or move us deeply. We learn from and are changed by the tragic and hurtful as well as the good and true.

While this anecdote from my sometimes-accident-prone life** presents the reality of physical impact,  I prefer to consider the intangible forms. We are impacted by words, actions, and prayers of others in ways we’ll never know.

What joy there will be in heaven when I hug and thank my sweet mother for the many prayers she uttered for me—for her unseen impact. (And I offer a sincere thank you to all who currently pray for me). Likewise, I am humbly grateful for the challenging and encouraging words of many wonderful pastors and spiritual teachers I’ve had the honor of learning from. It is rarely the long, drawn-out sermon that is remembered. Rather, it is the simple quips of truth that impact hearts and minds. The following list is far from complete, but represents messages that have transformed my way of thinking (in honor of some reallly special people):

Pastor George, who spoke openly of his vulnerability: “God, I don’t care what you do to me, just don’t leave me alone.” (How often I pray this same prayer now, after witnessing his heart of surrender).

Gregoria Romero, who gave great guidance when I wanted to quit:  “You must never give up, for the Spirit of Christ is in you, ministering to the spirit of those you interact with.” See Chapter 3 in my book, The Ministry of the Unveiled Face, for the whole story.

Rev. Dale Rosenberger, who exhorts both evangelicals and mainline pew sitters:  “We must hold Christ’s Great Commission (Matthew 28:19-20) in tension with Christ’s Great Compassion (Matthew 25:35-40). See Chapter 5 in my book The Ministry of the Unveiled Face, for a more thorough explanation.

Pastor David Dyer, who teaches me the nuances of ministry:  “Interruptions ARE the ministry.” Being such an organized person who loves planning and predictability, I have needed this reminder often.

Pastor Doug Burroughs, who hears and responds to Holy Spirit’s leading: “You are a psalmist, Janet.” I am convinced this blessing spoken over me has inspired the songs, poems, stories, and expositions that fill my heart and mind each day.

Of course, the impact of words and actions finds potential beyond the church sanctuary. A healthy exercise is to journal these interactions, for God is faithful to provide them as food for the soul. It is a blessing to review the words and actions through which others have impacted us.

More importantly, the current climate in society begs us for positive impact. I don’t want to be the one who hits from behind due to simple carelessness. I don’t want to knock someone down by thoughtless words. My hope is that my words, prayers, and actions will serve to lift the downtrodden and care for the afflicted. This is how we share the goodness of Christ with others. This is how we open blind eyes and minister to hurting souls.

NOTE:  At the risk of self-promoting, my book, The Ministry of the Unveiled Face, elevates three principles in sharing the goodness of Christ:  spoken and written words, persevering prayer, and acts of compassion. Perhaps these ideas will help to positively impact a fallen humanity.

* See poem, Words, in my August, 2022, author newsletter  (subscribe to the newsletter on the “about” page of this website)

** See narrative, Accident Prone, in my August, 2022, newsletter. (subscribe to the newsletter on the “about” page of this website)