Everybody, Always

On our last day of law school, Karl said he was sending a car to pick up
some friends and me. We climbed in, and the car took us to a field north
of San Diego. We didn’t know what had been planned for us, and a great
deal of attention had been given to keeping the evening shrouded in
secrecy. We guessed we were getting together with Karl to have a
celebration picnic on the beach and to throw a Frisbee around a little.
Instead, when we were far enough north to turn left to the beach, we
turned inland and an open field came into view.
In the middle of the field stood a gigantic, colorful hot-air balloon a
hundred feet tall with streamers hanging from the sides. A pilot standing
in a wicker basket blasted flames into the canopy and the balloon tugged
at the lines tethering it to the ground. Next to the wicker basket was a guy
in a wheelchair who had steered it there with a straw. Karl wanted to do
something amazing for us that he would never have the chance to
experience himself.
People who have developed a friendship with Jesus and are becoming
love aren’t immune to life’s setbacks. They have just as many as
everyone else. Sometimes I wonder if they have a few more, but I haven’t
tried to count. People like Karl have found something many of us are still
looking for. He knows he’s neither defined nor limited by his
circumstances. He sees power in his brokenness and opportunities in the
opposition he faces. Karl’s not stuck trying to figure out why this thing
happened to him; he’s too busy celebrating other people’s lives and
making things happen for them. People like Karl don’t think about what
they’ve lost. They think about what they’ll do with what they still have.
And the answer is much.
In that field outside of San Diego, we stumbled our way into the hot
air–balloon basket. The lines holding us to the ground were untied, and
after a couple of loud flame blasts we began to float away. As we did, big
things became small and close things seemed far away. The experience