A 24 Hour Person

Watching television isn’t like it used to be.  I grew up with a ‘schedule’.

• New seasons always started in September when school is back in session.  
• You could almost guarantee that your favorite shows would be back.  
• You learned about the characters and they actually became part of your life.  
• Some of your most favorite shows were listed on your calendar!  It’s Thursday and it’s 7PM.  It’s an appointment.  
• You cried when something bad happens to your ‘friends’ and you laughed with them when appropriate.

It’s not like that anymore.  You never know if your list will make it next year.  You don’t even know if it will be back next week.  And, with new shows and old, they start and stop any old time.  It seems we’re being encouraged to leave our ‘investment’ behind in favor of the new, exciting and soon to be forgotten prime-time hits.

I’m part of that culture now.  I find a show, watch it for a while and let it go if it doesn't let me go first.

Over the past month or so, I’ve been watching a single-season production called Shots Fired  The premise was worthwhile.  It’s about a small town struggling with the death of two young men; one black and one white.  There are a lot of places this plot could go and I thought it handled fairly well looking at the idea that we’re all one, should be treated the same and should be involved in the lives of others no matter what race, creed or religion.

I have two things to say.

The FIRST:

I typically watch these shows ‘in the background’ while multi-tasking.  They don’t always get my full attention, in other words.  But the other day, a conversation in Episode 8 rang my bell.  I backed up the video so I could hear it again.

The Governor (Helen Hunt) is sitting in a limousine with a man she had brought into town to help ease racial tension.  Many years ago, this aging white man and his black friend had eaten together at great risk to themselves in the local small-town diner day after day until others began to eat with them.  The Governor is hoping they can do this again in some way.  But, while on the stage announcing that these two 'celebrities' were here to talk to the gathering, Darius (Al Mathias) quietly falls asleep and dies.

Afterward, Horace Alvers (Dave Hager) is in the car with the Governor.

He mentions that life doesn’t always go like you think it will.  And the Governor asks, “How do you do that?  See life so simply after everything you’ve been through?”

Horace says, “My daddy raised me to be a 24 hour person.”

As all of us would, the Governor isn’t up with the term and asks, “A 24 hour person?”

Mr. Alvers replies, “It means that you're not the righteous preacher that cheats on his wife.  You don’t do right by your boss and then backstab your friends. A 24 hour person knows who they are. They’re someone you can depend on 24 hours a day. That's what Darius and I have tried to be."

Horace exits the car to visit this personally significant diner.  The Governor is overcome and begins to weep.

Blessed are those who act justly, who always do what is right.

Psalm 106:3 

So I strive always to keep my conscience clear before God and man.

Acts 24:16 

It would seem that to be a 24 hour person, we can't live life as though we were part of a television series.  A 24 hour person is dependable and constantly active in the lives of others.  A 24 hour person pays attention to their community and does what is right in the eyes of God and man.

The SECOND:

This past week, I heard news of shots fired in Over-the-Rhine, Cincinnati.  June has been a death-filled month in Cincinnati with shootings, and OTR (Over-the-Rhine) is a popular place for this kind of activity.  Inside of this small community, Grant Park seems to be a central location with 3 separate shootings in a week.

A young boy, Anthony Hinton, was shot at Grant Park at 6:30 AM last Sunday.  This park is directly across the street from a non-profit I was associated with for about a year and a half.  For a short time, Anthony was one of my students. I remember him well.  He’d always come up to me and say, “Mr. Mike, you look sad.  Tell me what’s wrong!”  And we’d kid each other back and forth until he’d laugh and shake his head. 

He died at 14 years of age.

In my short time with Anthony, I know in my heart that he was a 24 hour person.

I've been asking.  But, there's a good chance that there will be no funeral service.  Maybe I could ask that you take a moment to pray for Anthony and for his family. Thank you.

Eternal rest, grant onto him, Oh Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him.