It’s Not Who You Know….

As a 45-year-old white male, yesterday was just a tough day for the part of me that still relishes my ’70’s childhood.  For me, growing up in the ’70’s was not like That ’70’s Show, all trash and no substance, but safe, wholesome accountability and responsibility.  Even as a child.  

I knew Michael Jackson was older than me by a few years.  Growing up, I watched him sing with his brothers on variety shows.  I sang along with the small 45 rpm records (you remember those… don’t you?).  I just knew the Jackson 5 would rule the music world together.
While listening to the Jackson 5 on my turntable, I could gaze longingly at the poster tacked to the back of the door in my room.  Farrah was there when I went to sleep, and when I awoke each day.  Charlie’s Angels was a weekly staple at our house that we would not miss.  The engaging smile, the hair… 
ahem, back on topic…
I was really sad when Farrah left the show after only 1 year.  I was really sad when the Jackson 5 turned into the Jacksons; then Michael started on his own.  I will never forget Michael Jackson’s appearance on the skyrocketing Oprah show, where she showed clip after clip after weeping clip of adoring fans crying just to see the King of Pop on stage.  I will never forget how my spirit nudged my heart to reveal that that behavior is a lot like worship.  
Over time the two careers took similar paths to wackiness.  Nonetheless, over the last several years, Farrah worked really hard to evolve into the life of a passionate, fiercely loyal and hard-working survivor of a devastating form of cancer.  Farrah documented her life in recent years, revealing to the world the stress of her struggle.  
Michael could not stop himself from falling headlong into the weirdest forms of controversy; the dangling baby, the child abuse cases, his Neverland bankruptcy.  He was just weird.  
Deep in tax and financial trouble, Michael mounted a feeble effort at a comeback career; most would give him a pass on sub-par material just to see him work again.  But he’ll never have that opportunity.
Yesterday, both Farrah and Michael died.  Their brains, hearts, all internal and external organs ceased to function.  They are no longer a reality of this life.  Their reality is now with the Creator, the Eternal Heavenly Father.  
As a 45-year-old white male, I am forced to re-examine my faith, its foundations, and its future. Someday, it will be my turn to have a write-up in the newspaper about my death.  My eternal destination is set because of Who I know.  
Now that I think about it, that is not quite right;  my eternal destination is set because of Who knows me.
I am working on the headlines right now, every day, as I live a life worthy of my calling in Christ Jesus..
Life is Good!
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