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“Whatever”
Tom Barnard 

 wish I had asked for his name. Or his home town. Or his home state. Or what church he attended. Our conversation was short—maybe a couple of minutes. He and I were “weathered in” at the Pittsburgh International Airport. Like hundreds of others, we were waiting for the weather to clear so we could make connections to our real destinations.  

To pass the time, I began reading the signs printed on the fronts and backs of T-shirts worn by the people parading through the terminal. One particular shirt caught my eye. It was black with the following word printed in large, white block letters across the front: 

WHATEVER 

The guy wearing it was an older gent in a wheelchair; he had just paused for a few minutes to rest before continuing on his way to another gate. He stopped directly in front of where I was sitting. My curiosity was high, and I had to ask what led to the purchase of the shirt. (I wasn’t asking where I could buy one—just what led to his buying his). He explained that he was 83 years old and had just undergone his second heart by-pass in the past three years. He was doing fine now, but he had grown tired of responding to questions directed at him by well-meaning family and friends. (And strangers, too, like me). So, when someone asked what led to his wheel-chair situation, he pointed to his shirt, and no other words were uttered. In a way he was saying, “Don’t ask.”  I think he was saying that to me, too. Eventually he wheeled his way down the concourse, and I was left with the thoughts that followed our brief meeting. 

He was a reminder that Americans are obsessed with one-word answers to difficult questions. Especially in airports and train terminals. We don’t want to get too involved. Less-complicated is far superior to more-complicated. It’s like taking a test with “True or False” answers. There is no time or space for lengthy explanations. We prefer things being short…curt…crisp…instant…impersonal. 

How unlike the way God does things. He enjoys engagement. He thrives on long conversations. Instead of creating a tree, he created forests. Instead of being satisfied with streams, he formed the Amazon. Instead of settling for ponds, he created oceans. Instead of making grains of sand, he created coastlines of sand. Instead of forming a hill, he made the Rockies. Instead of making one fish, he designed species of them. Instead of creating one wild horse, he created herds of them. God does things in a very big way. 

And when he wanted to show his world what he was like, he didn’t send a messenger. He sent his Son. And he didn’t just send Jesus on a one-way, quick trip through Galilee. He sent him as a baby, to grow to manhood among his people and subsequently to die for all humankind. No one-line slogans for God. No message on the front or back of a shirt. No billboard to announce his visit. But God did speak a Word, and it was no ordinary word. John said it: “And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling with us” (John 1:14).  

God is not a “show-and-tell” God. He lingers. He waits. He gives us time to think about him. Through his Spirit, he has come to dwell in us forever. Here is how the Apostle Paul described Jesus Christ: 

“God himself was pleased to live fully in his Son, and God was pleased for him to make peace by sacrificing his blood on the cross, so that all beings in heaven and on earth would be brought back to God”  (Colossians 1:19, 20 CEV). 

How “fully” is God’s Son living in you? In an impersonal way, or a deeply personal way? Are you experiencing God intimately, or at a distance? Do you sing, “All my life long I had panted for a draught from some cool spring—that I hoped would quench the burning of the thirst I felt within”? Or do you add, “Hallelujah! I have found Him—Whom my soul so long has craved! Jesus satisfies my longings; Thro’ His blood I now am saved”? That’s the Word for today. Sing it wherever you go. Whatever you do.