I Wish I Could Have Been There

 I heard an old song the other day, John Anderson's song "I Wish I Could Have Been There”.   In it, he sings about all the moments he missed while out on the road — his daughter's first breath, his son's first home run. Then in the last verse, he finally makes it home, and it's their anniversary. But when he gets there, it's just him and his wife — the kids are grown and gone. The chorus goes:

"It was a happy day, but kinda sad, and I wish I could have been there for that."

Listening to it got me thinking.  There are so many moments — not just in my own life, but throughout history — that I wish I could have witnessed with my own eyes.

Take Matthew 27:51. The moment Jesus took his last breath, the temple curtain tore in two — not neatly, but completely, from top to bottom. Then came the earthquakes. Rocks splitting. Tombs opening. People who had been dead, walking around again. Even the hardened Roman guards who had seen it all — they finally believed. Can you even imagine standing there in that moment? The doubt just... gone. And then, three days later, He rose. He showed up — in person — to His friends. I would have given anything to be there for that.

And honestly, I think that's something a lot of us wrestle with. We say things like, "If I could just see Him, if I could just touch Him, it would be so much easier to believe." But the good news is, He's still showing up! We just have to slow down long enough to notice. Step outside. Sit quietly in nature for a few minutes. You'll find Him there. In the rustle of the wind, in the way the light hits the water, in the unexpected stillness. Henry David Thoreau put it beautifully: "Heaven is under our feet and over our heads." I've found that to be truer than I ever expected.

I can't tell you how many times I've gone outside, took a walk, or just sat.  Either frustrated, confused, or just needing peace — and quietly asked God to help me understand something, or to give me patience I didn't have. And every single time, if I slowed down and listened, He answered. Not always loudly. But softly. Surely.

That's the thing about our fast-paced lives, though — we're so busy that we miss it. We miss Him. And we miss each other.

Military families know this pain deeply. Parents deployed overseas, missing the birth of their child. A mom or dad working a double shift, unable to make it to the ball game. It's not how God designed things to be — but it's the reality of a broken world. The good news? We still get to choose what we do with the time we do have.

So here's the gentle nudge I'm passing along, because I need it just as much as anyone: Don't be so busy doing things that don't matter that you miss the things that do.

Call someone you've been meaning to call. Write that letter. Show up when you can. Those small moments — the ones that feel ordinary — are the ones people remember forever.

And stay watchful. Stay prayerful. Because we don't want to miss that moment either — when He comes back for us.

Whether it's family, a friend, or a quiet afternoon alone in nature — don't miss what matters. The work will still be there. But this moment? It won't.  We can’t go back in time and be there for things in the past, but we can show up for it in the future!