SUNDAY SERMON — Good Morning World; I mean Great World; I Mean Cruel World;

I woke up this morning, slowly shook the cobwebs out of my head and grabbed my iPad; simply to get caught up on everything I had missed for the past eight hours of slumber.

Right away, I came across this video:

It’s great to wake up with a smile on your face, even if a tear of joy is rolling down your cheek and you don’t have to hide behind the lie that something was in your eye.

It wasn’t more than a few moments into my next app when I came across this link:

I hadn’t been awake for 30 minutes, yet this world that we call home was tugging at my emotions from both ends.

This is Life 101, I suppose It’s always been there: Good news, bad news, happy news, sad news.

Twenty years ago, we mostly came across stories like this when they happened near our hometown. The good, the bad, the ugly — our local newspaper, local television, and local radio stations would fill us in on what was going on. The national news had to be some major shit for us to hear about it.

These days, within 10 minutes of each other,  without even getting out of my bed, I was reading an emotional happy story from El Paso, Texas, and the the tragic death of two parents in a car accident rushing to the hospital to deliver their first baby.

Yes, I suppose, it’s great news that the baby survived. It is a life saved. Yet is also a life that is coming into this world that I’m scared for. Who knows what kind of life this baby is going to grow up to have: The little boy doesn’t have any parents, so we can only hope somebody within his family steps in, does the right things and raises this baby with twice the love he deserves. Otherwise, he could be lost before he is ever found.

What will the world look like as this boy grows up?

If we’re overloaded with information that can carry our emotions and hearts from end of the spectrum to the other without getting out of bed, then what will it be like for this little boy by the time he’s in high school? Or, out of college? Or in his middle 20s? Or — gasp — my age?

I’d have to live to be 97 for that to happen — fat chance, of that, eh? — to know what kind of world this little boy will be enduring.

Maybe he’ll fly his car to work. Maybe he’ll instantly get all Hollywood blockbuster movies digitally ordered into the wall of his living room. Maybe the first Black Woman President will finally get our political house straight and start turning this country around. If it isn’t too late.

But, I’m pretty sure, in another 47 years, there will be a great, moving emotional happy-ending story for that little baby to discover. If could come from anywhere: Bangor, Dover, Springfield (any one of them), Buffalo, Denver, Phoenix, Walla Walla. Then, within minutes, he’ll hear another tear-jerker of a story, this one a tragedy that rips apart the world of just a small group of people. It might be one state over, or across the country. It won’t matter where, because it will all be at his finger tips.

That was life then and now. And so it will be in the future, as well.

You really don’t know what any day is going to deal you.

You just have to make the most of it.

So this Sunday morning I urge you to go live your life and make the most of it.

Just don’t stop and read about it. Your emotions might not be able to handle it.

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