I like to say I grew up on the back of a motorcycle. My dad and his stepdad owned matching Suzukis and enjoyed weekend rides in the mountains of northwest Arkansas. I often went with them. We would leave in the early hours before the sun rose high enough to bake both pavement and shoulders. I’d wrap my arms around my daddy’s waist and a bungee cord around mine, secured to the backrest in case I started to nod off on those sleepy Saturday mornings.

It always fascinated me that whenever we’d pass motorcycles coming toward us — usually people we did not know — my dad and the other drivers waved low to each other, a gesture that implied more than a simple hello. It communicated not only acceptance and camaraderie but also an unspoken message: you are one of my people.

When we rode that motorcycle we were part of something bigger, a special club, if linked by nothing more than our chosen mode of transportation. It was a bond which transcended socioeconomic, age, and racial lines.

Last weekend I once again witnessed that old, familiar wave between two motorcyclists, and I couldn’t help but wonder: what if the rest of us accepted each other so readily, without analysis or hesitation? Can you even imagine it?

Please visit me today at (in)courage for the rest of the post. I really hope you will!

While scrolling through Facebook recently I came across a post from a twenty-year-old young lady, a former student of mine from the Classical Conversations program where I teach tenth graders once a week. Although I didn’t know the young man she wrote about, I could tell he was a dear friend of hers who had passed away in an accident. Later when his phone was returned to his parents, they discovered an alarm on it that asked, “Who did you help today?”

It seemed that this hidden prompt, a daily for-his-eyes-only reminder to evaluate how he was living and serving others didn’t come as a surprise to those who knew him. It made an impact on many, and my former student shared a photo of its impact on her — those words tattooed on the inside of her wrist.

Though I didn’t know him, his story impacted me as well.

I have three alarms set on my watch, inspired by Stephanie Bryant’s devotional in the first (in)courage book, Craving Connection. In it, she encourages readers to set prayer alarms throughout the day. The idea really spoke to me, and since then, my watch quietly nudges me at 10 a.m., 2 p.m., and 8 p.m. each day.

Sometimes I stop what I’m doing and pray. If I’m really busy I may get no further than a simple Thank You, Lord. My favorite is when I’m in the middle of devotional time and the alarm syncs with what I’m already doing; it prompts me to dig beneath the words on the page and connect deeper. Lately, I’ve been challenging myself to pray big prayers because I worship a big God.

But now after reading such a small piece of this young man’s personal story, the question on his phone alarm left an impression on me, someone he never met. I’ve renamed my 8 p.m. alarm. It’s no longer labeled Prayer, but rather, Who did you help today?

Please join me today at (in)courage for the rest of the story as we think about how this question might affect us and how we live our days.

A Question We All Need to Ask