Parthenon

Over the holidays, an interesting thing happened. In three very different situations, I told a true story I heard years ago to friends who then passed the story on to others. The story found itself in the climax of a sermon in Arizona, as part of a small group discussion in New Mexico and in an email from Italy sent to students in a university business course. In each case, people told me later that the story seemed to be just what was needed. So here it is, for you.

A group of Americans once traveled together to Greece to begin a two-week tour of biblical sites. Like most who journey west to east across the Atlantic, these travelers left one day and arrived the next, lugging heavy bags through several airports and changing planes at least three times. They landed in the bright sunlight of late morning on the second day, but feeling like it was four in the morning after a night without sleep. They were exhausted and bedraggled.

Then came a distressing surprise. Travel brochures for the trip had promised a beautiful ocean liner. The travelers were led onto a renovated WWII shipping vessel. They had just enough time to take their luggage to their rooms before gathering in the dining room for lunch. The mood was gloomy.

"How's your room?" someone asked. "Terrible," someone answered. "I've never seen such pitiful accommodations."

"My room's so small I could barely get my suitcase inside and close the door," another said. One by one, around the table, the travelers tried to outdo one another with descriptions of their misery. "I can't even turn around in my room." "In mine, there's not enough space to spit." "They put me beside the boiler room. It's way too hot and, with all that noise, I'll never get any sleep."

One man at the end of the table had not said a word. Someone finally asked, "Say, Harold, how's your room?"

"Well," he said slowly, "I suppose my room is pretty much like all of yours. But," he said, with eyes sparkling, "I tell you what I keep thinking. All my life, I have dreamed of seeing what the Apostle Paul saw and walking where he walked. Tomorrow I am going to do that! I'm going to climb the Areopagus, Mars' Hill. And I am going to see the Acropolis and the Parthenon. I can't wait!"

There was an awkward silence. Then someone said, "I'm looking forward to seeing Ephesus." Someone else chimed in, "I tell you what I want to see."

In a moment, the conversation had been transformed. Soon everyone was laughing and smiling. Those travelers became noted as some of the most cheerful, flexible American tourists the tour guides had ever seen. They did not start that way. One person's perspective turned things around.

Next time your group grumbles, use your power of choice. God can use you to turn things around. Help the rest of us remember why we are here and what we have to look forward to.