I’m a short guy or so I’m told.

You know, I am not sure if I really believe it though.

Now there is some evidence that this might be true. Like one day I wanted to pick up something for my wife (who doesn’t discount this short conspiracy completely) at a local store. What I wanted was on the top hook. I don’t know who hung this thing but I think it was a Nephilim or at least some giant hybrid.

The hook was so high that they even had to raise the ceiling to accommodate it!

Okay, maybe this place just had a high ceiling.

Picture this. I am a mature man, age counts you know, and I am standing on the bottom shelf stretching and straining. This tall fellow comes along and seeing me struggling there, walks over and calmly unhooks the item and hands it to me.

Of course I said thank you. What else could I do?

I did grumble to myself that had the hook been at a normal height, normal people would not need help from the six footers of the world. And by normal I mean men and women under five and a half feet. Don’t get me wrong. I am not a heightist. My two sons are well over six feet and I love them just as much as if they were normal.

Then there are the times in which I drive my son’s truck. I slide into the seat and look for the steering wheel. I can’t see it anywhere! Finally I see it shimmering through the mist in the distance and I reach for it. The more I each for it the further away it gets!

With a huge leap I lunge off the seat and catching it by surprise I cling to it. I have to since I am no longer sitting.

With bolstered confidence I search the floor for pedals. In the distant darkness I see something taking shape. Like two distant islands on a starless night, they outline begins to form. I stretch my foot out but it seems it stops only half way there. Ultimately I am forced to surrender and do the dreaded seat slide as I move the driver’s seat closer to the wheel and the pedals. Man, maybe I am short after all!

You see the evidence suggests that I might be short. Whether or not I believe I am short is an entirely different matter. Being short, if it was true, wouldn’t be all that bad. It would just be different. Like the time my youngest and tallest son, Douglas, and I were working together doing renovations. He was the talent by the way. We’re in a hurry to get to a problem that was in a basement. A very low ceiling basement. I just scamper through like its normal. Behind me I hear a bang. Then some words of ‘joy’. Then another bang followed by louder words of ‘joy’. I turned around and he had an actual crease in his forehead from hitting the beam! I laughed. Different perspectives I guess since he did not see the humour in it.

Being short or being tall is no different in God’s eyes than being darker skinned or lighter skinned. He created us and loves us all equally. Tall people don’t get to heaven because they are tall and short people don’t get to heaven because they are short. We didn’t choose to be tall or short.

But there is one choice that does get us into heaven. That is choosing Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior. There is no other way. I don’t know how short or tall Jesus was when he walked the earth like a man but I know that he is the best choice anyone could ever make.

And tall or short, once you accept Jesus, you’re in the driver’s seat.