December 20, 2024
Column

The small kindness you give has power

John Daniel Ehrlichman was born in Tacoma, Wash., on March 20, 1925. He earned a bachelor’s degree from the University of California and a law degree from Stanford University. For four years, he practiced private law. And then he met Richard Nixon.

When Nixon won the presidency in 1968, Ehrlichman moved to Washington, D.C. He initially served as counsel to the president and then, from 1969 to 1973, he was Nixon’s assistant for domestic affairs. He walked the halls of great power. His name became a household word. With Haldeman and Kissinger, he formed a troika of formidable influence and glory.

But the Bible says, “All flesh is like grass, and all its glory like the flower of grass.” It says that “the grass withers, and the flower falls off” – that only “the word of the Lord abides forever.”

When the Watergate scandal broke in 1973, Ehrlichman’s fall was rapid and painful.

He resigned from his White House position that April, was convicted in 1974-75, and went from the cover of Time to doing time in prison, until 1978. The glory had given way to disgrace.

In 1998, Ehrlichman became seriously ill in a nursing home in Atlanta, Ga. In his book, “The Good Life,” Charles W. Colson describes what it was like to visit his former colleague at that time: “When I walked into John’s room, I saw this once-powerful, imposing, distinguished man sitting in a wheelchair, wearing a cardigan, a blanket over his lap. He was only in his early 70s, but his health had been decimated. He had lost 50 or more pounds, and the skin of his face hung in limp folds. His beard was unkempt. This man who had once been sought out by the most powerful people in the world, whose wishes commanded hundreds around him, found himself desperately ill and virtually deserted.”

Over the years, Ehrlichman had lost three wives. He’d contemplated physician-assisted suicide. In the end, he terminated dialysis and died on Valentine’s Day in 1999. Colson says, “There was no funeral. No one came to mourn. He was cremated, and his ashes were shipped to his son, Peter.”

Alexander the Great is reported to have said: “I came into this world with nothing. I conquered the whole world for nothing. When it came my time to leave the world, I took nothing with me.”

Which raises the question: What is your reason for living? What difference is your life making? How will you be remembered in 100 years, or in five years?

Zophar the Naamathite once made this observation about mortal man: “Though his excellency mount up to the heavens, and his head reach unto the clouds; yet he shall perish forever like his own dung. … He shall fly away as a dream, and shall not be found. … The eye also which saw him shall see him no more; neither shall his place any more behold him” (From Job 20:6-9).

A tombstone in England reads: “What I had, I spent. What I saved, I lost. What I gave, I still have.”

Are you giving away anything today that will still be yours in 1,000 years? How about sowing a few seeds of kindness? Could you say some encouraging word to someone before sundown? Don’t underestimate the significance of such a thing. One gracious act in Jesus’ name can make a world of difference.

Nguyen That Thanh entered the lobby of the Parker House Hotel on Tremont Street in Boston one day in 1911. Thanh was 21 and reporting for work in the famous hotel’s restaurant. Why? To finance his visit to America. Why was he visiting America? “To find the secret of capitalism and Christianity,” he’d written to a friend.

Evidently he left disillusioned on both counts. Returning to his native land, he quickly moved toward national status as a political leader. At some point, he embraced communism. And then Thanh, otherwise known as Ho Chi Minh, led North Vietnam in a terrible war against South Vietnam and the United States.

Late in 2006, this writer entered that same hotel lobby and wondered how history might have been different if some Christian believer had reached out to Ho Chi Minh with the love of Jesus in 1911. But suddenly another question exploded: “How many Ho Chi Minhs are in this place right now, and around me every day?”

To come alongside even just one other lonely soul and bring them to the Savior. Talk about a life of glory, power and significance.

The Rev. Daryl E. Witmer is founder and director of the AIIA Institute, a national apologetics ministry, and associate pastor of the Monson Community Church. He may be reached at the Web site AIIA.ChristianAnswers.Net or by e-mail at AIIAInstitute@aol.com. Voices is a weekly commentary by Maine people who explore issues affecting spirituality and religious life.


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