Importance

Bonnie Crawford was in danger of missing a connecting flight for a board meeting last week when a United Airlines customer-service rep saved the day. She got rebooked on a pricey nonstop flight in business class. For free.

You’re probably thinking, “No airline ever does that for me.” Crawford isn’t just any frequent flier. She has United’s invitation-only Global Services status.

It’s a semi-secret, status-on-steroids level that big spenders strive for every year. American and Delta have souped-up statuses, too, with similarly haughty names: ConciergeKey and Delta 360°. The airlines don’t like to talk about what it takes to snag an invite, how many people have such status, or even the perks. Even the high rollers themselves don’t know for sure.

Get into these exclusive clubs and you get customer service on speed dial, flight rebooking before you even know there’s trouble, lounge access, and priority for upgrades. Not to mention bragging rights and swag. People even post unboxing videos of their invites on YouTube.

Anyone with this super status needn’t fret about the value of airline loyalty or the devaluation of frequent-flier points.

Crawford was invited to Global Services for 2017 and was hooked. “It was the first taste of this magic, elusive, absolutely incredible status,’’ she says. She wasn’t invited again until this year and fears she won’t be invited back next year due to fewer costly international flights in her new job.

Possible Preaching Angles:

You can approach this illustration from two angles: 1) Boasting; Pride – This shows the negative side of human nature that loves to boast about their favored position and humble-brag about their status. This status is gained by merit. 2) Advocate; Grace; Invitation; Rights - The positive angle is that we have an Advocate who gifted us a special relationship with the Father (Eph. 3:12; Heb. 4:14-16). This status is all due to God’s grace.

Eighty-three-year-old actor Anthony Hopkins won the Oscar for Best Actor at the 2021 Academy Awards. In an interview soon after, he was asked about being happy:

The irredeemable past—we can never go back. The sadness of life is that we go on—we're born in this world, and at the end we leave, and you think, ‘What was that all about?' My life ... at the end of it all, I don't know what is … what's it all about? Is there meaning in it? So what makes me really happy is—what makes me free—is the feeling that nothing is of that much importance. We're pretty insignificant little dots in our vast universe.

Life is important only because we choose to make it so. And that's the freedom I have. Free from worrying about this, that and the other. You know, being significant, all that stuff. But there's finally nothing to prove, nothing to win, nothing to lose, no sweat, no big deal. And that's my philosophy. Ask nothing, expect nothing and accept everything. That's it.

He told a struggling young actor: “Enjoy it. Just do it. You can either do it or you can't. If you can't, it doesn't matter. Who cares, finally, in the end?”

Hopkins enjoys happiness in life’s meaninglessness:

That's to me happiness: to acknowledge that I know nothing. I'm insignificant. It's all meaningless to me. And it's a bit of fun to have a little bit of acclaim and be successful or achieve things—it's fine. ... Enjoy it while it lasts. We know nothing. And that comes back to me. I know nothing. I don't know anything.

Pastor Rico Tice writes, “I’ll never forget the funeral at which an old lady said to me, ‘Rico, do you know what failure is?’ ‘No – tell me,’ I answered.

“What she said next has stuck with me ever since: ‘Failure is being successful at the things that don’t matter.’”

Rico continues, “Success is hearing, ‘Well done’ from the only lips that matter. Failure is being successful at the things that don’t truly mater at all.”

After his ordination in 1969, author and pastor Phillip Johnson received a call to serve one large church and ten smaller churches on the northern coast of Newfoundland, Canada. On the first day of his new circuit ministry, Johnson learned that in order to get to the smallest of the churches, he would have to travel 40 miles by snowmobile to a tiny village. When Johnson arrived, only one person had shown up for worship—a fisherman who had traveled about 20 miles to get there.

Johnson initially thought about just saying a prayer and calling it a day. But then he realized that together, he and the fisherman had already logged 60 miles of travel and had 60 more miles to return home. With that in mind, Johnson decided to conduct the whole service as if there were a few hundred worshipers. They did it all: the hymns, the readings, the prayers, the sermon, the Lord's Supper, and the benediction.

It was during the sermon that Johnson wondered why he had bothered. The fisherman never looked up. But when Johnson greeted the fisherman at the door and thanked him for coming, Johnson received a pleasant surprise. The fisherman said, "Reverend, I've been thinking about becoming a Christian for about 30-odd years. And today's the day!"

Joshua Bell emerged from the Metro and positioned himself against a wall beside a trash basket. By most measures, he was nondescript—a youngish white man in jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a Washington Nationals baseball cap. From a small case, he removed a violin. Placing the open case at his feet, he shrewdly threw in a few dollars and pocket change as seed money and began to play.

For the next 45 minutes, in the D.C. Metro on January 12, 2007, Bell played Mozart and Schubert as over 1,000 people streamed by, most hardly taking notice. If they had paid attention, they might have recognized the young man for the world-renowned violinist he is. They also might have noted the violin he played—a rare Stradivarius worth over $3 million. It was all part of a project arranged by The Washington Post—"an experiment in context, perception, and priorities—as well as an unblinking assessment of public taste. In a banal setting, at an inconvenient time, would beauty transcend?"

Just three days earlier, Joshua Bell sold out Boston Symphony Hall, with ordinary seats going for $100. In the subway, Bell garnered about $32 from the 27 people who stopped long enough to give a donation.

The movie The Great Raid is based on the true story of the largest mission to rescue American POWs in WWII. Over 500 American captives had been taken by the Japanese to the brutal Cabantuan camps in the Philippines. Lt. Colonel Mucci (played by Benjamin Bratt) led his battalion deep through enemy territory to set them free.

When Colonel Mucci and his troops finally sneak into view of the POW camp, they realize that massive Japanese reinforcements are headquartered just behind their position. Frustrated and discouraged, Mucci stomps off into the woods and leans against a tree to consider his options.

Captain Prince tentatively approaches, and the two soldiers have a heart-to-heart conversation that captures just how important their mission is.

Mucci: The others are beginning to lose faith, aren't they?

Prince: They won't let you down.

Mucci: It's not a question of letting me down. We worked hard to raise a fine unit. They deserve their shot at glory.

Prince: I don't suppose many of us are in this for the glory, sir.

Mucci: I'm not talking about publicity, Bob. I'm talking about the kind of glory you carry inside you the rest of your life, knowing you've done something worth remembering, something that made a difference. The only recognition I want is from those boys in that camp. Nothing in our lives will ever be as important as this.

Content: Rated R for strong war violence and language

Elapsed Time: Chapter 13, 01:19:02 – 01:20:15

Video: Quicktime Version of the trailer for "The Great Raid"

Frank Capra, who directed It's a Wonderful Life, was asked years ago about the central message of his classic film. After thinking a few moments, Capra responded, "I believe the real message of It's a Wonderful Life is this: that under the sun, nothing is insignificant to God."

Now, when you watch the movie again, you know that everything that happens has intended and unintended consequences. Everything, because it happened, causes something else to happen. Everybody in that story is important, because he or she relates to everyone else. Nothing is insignificant under the sun to God.

Perhaps you need to be reminded, not only that you are important to God, but also everyone around you is significant to him, too.

On a plaque marking Abraham Lincoln's birthplace near Hodgenville, Kentucky, is recorded this scrap of conversation:

"Any news down t' the village, Ezry?"

"Well, Squire McLains's gone t' Washington t' see Madison swore in, and ol' Spellman tells me this Bonaparte fella has captured most o' Spain. What's new out here, neighbor?"

"Nuthin', nuthin' a'tall, 'cept fer a new baby born t' Tom Lincoln's. Nothin' ever happens out here."

Some events, whether birthdays in Hodgenville (or Bethlehem) or spiritual rebirth in a person's life, may not create much earthly splash, but those of lasting importance will eventually get the notice they deserve.