June Rector’s Study

Beloved,

You often don’t know the impact your life has on others until much later. If you have spent some time scrolling on social media recently, chances are you might have come across video memes of Indonesia’s longtail boat drag races. Each boat was led by an acrobatic dancing boy wearing sunglasses, who cheered on the rowers. Almost every video clip is accompanied by the same catchy, fast-paced music. Much to my surprise, this rhythmic music was composed by the Japanese band Sakanaction in 2012. According to the artist, the single was not at all popular when it was first released, so it was a total shock when it unexpectedly went viral this year. The meme quickly spread globally, and people from all over the world made videos with their own twists on the same soundbite, like soldiers in their jets, on a ship deck, or on a submarine in the ocean; students in their classrooms, older adults at retirement homes, to name a few. When the artist reflected on his recent unexpected fame, he said, “I was sad and depressed when I first released it because no one cared back then. You just never know, do you?”

Similar things happen in life; someone reminds you, when you least expect it, of your kindness, the things you did, and the support you offered in the past. You might not even remember these moments, but somehow they remember you. What felt ordinary to you became extraordinary to someone else. When in doubt, talk to me. I’d be more than happy to remind you of your special moment.

Entering Ordinary Time from now on until before Advent, I think about such extraordinary moments. Granted, the word ordinary in this case actually means order or sequence, and not mundane or boring. Still, I will say it’s a good reminder to live each day attentive to holy moments. God’s grace, at work in our lives, is beyond our ability to recognize. Unlike the festive seasons like Christmas and Easter, the green season is harder to feel the spiritual momentum. However, our failure to recognize the holy does not change the reality of its significance.

That said, I am not too naive to ignore the feeling of a void. The questions, like “Why am I here?”, “What am I doing?” or “Do I still matter?” are questions I ask God daily. I take comfort in knowing that Reinhold Niebuhr, a famous theologian and pastor, struggled with these questions as well, as his book Leaves from the Notebook of a Tamed Cynic (1929) suggests. I read this book back when I was in seminary, and it’s still one of my favorite books that accurately portrays the life of a cleric. He is also the author of the well-known Serenity Prayer. 

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; 

courage to change the things I can; 

and wisdom to know the difference. 

You don’t always know the impact you have on other lives until much later. We can’t base our lives on instant gratification. Perhaps that is how grace often works. A song dismissed twelve years ago suddenly reaches the world. A kindness you barely remember becomes someone else’s lifeline. A word of encouragement echoes long after you spoke it. We don’t always get to see what God is doing through us. Still, we are called to love faithfully, one ordinary day at a time. The Good News has always spread that way.