The day is over, you are driving home. You tune in your radio. You hear a little
blurb about a little village in India where some villagers have died suddenly,
strangely, of a flu that has never been seen before. It's not influenza, but three or
four fellows are dead, and it's kind of interesting, and they're sending some
doctors over there to investigate it.

You don't thing much about it, but on Sunday, coming home from church, you
hear another radio spot. Only they say it's not three villagers, it's 30,000
villagers in the back hills of this particular area of India, and it's on TV that
night. CNN runs a little blurb; people are heading there from the disease center
in Atlanta because this disease strain has never been seen before.

By Monday morning when you get up, it's the lead story. For it's not just India;
it's Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, and before you know it, you're hearing this story
everywhere and they have coined it now as "the mystery flu". The President has
made some comment that he and everyone are praying and hoping that all will
go well over there. But everyone is wondering, "How are we going to contain
it?" That's when the President of France makes an announcement that shocks
Europe. He is closing their borders. No flights from India, Pakistan, or any of
the countries where this thing has been seen.

And that's why that night you are watching a little bit of CNN before going to
bed. Your jaw hits your chest when a weeping woman is translated from a
French news program into English: "There's a man lying in a hospital in Paris
dying of the mystery flu." It has come to Europe. Panic strikes. As best they can
tell, once you get it, you have it for a week and you don't know it. Then you
have four days of unbelievable symptoms. And then you die.

Britain closes it's borders, but it's too late. South Hampton, Liverpool ,North
Hampton, and it's Tuesday morning when the President of the United States
makes the following announcement: "Due to a national security risk, all flights
to and from Europe and Asia have been canceled. If your loved ones are
overseas, I'm sorry. They cannot come back until we find a cure for this thing."

Within four days our nation has been plunged into an unbelievable fear. People
are selling little masks for your face. People are talking about what if it comes to
this country, and preachers on Tuesday are saying, "It's the scourge of God."

It's Wednesday night and you are at a church prayer meeting when somebody
runs in from the parking lot and says, "Turn on a radio, turn on a radio." And
while the church listens to a little transistor radio with a microphone stuck up to
it, the announcement is made. "Two women are lying in a Long Island hospital
dying from the mystery flu." Within hours it seems this thing just sweeps across
the country. People are working around the clock trying to find an antidote.
Nothing is working. California. Oregon. Arizona. Florida. Massachusetts. It's as
though it's just sweeping in from the borders.

And then, all of a sudden the news comes out. The code has been broken. A cure
can be found. A vaccine can be made. It's going to take the blood of somebody
who hasn't been infected, and so, sure enough, all through the Midwest, through
all those channels of emergency broadcasting, everyone is asked to do one
simple thing: "Go to your downtown hospital and have your blood type taken.
That's all we ask of you. And when you hear the sirens go off in your
neighborhood, please make your way quickly, quietly, and safely to the
hospitals."

Sure enough, when you and your family get down there late on that Friday night,
there is a long line, and they've got nurses and doctors coming out and pricking
fingers and taking blood and putting labels on it. Your wife and your kids are
out there, and they take your blood type and they say, "Wait here in the parking
lot and if we call your name, you can be dismissed and go home."

You stand around scared with your neighbors, wondering what in the world is
going on, and that this is the end of the world. Suddenly a young man comes
running out of the hospital screaming. He's yelling a name and waving a
clipboard. What? He yells it again! And your son tugs on your jacket and says,
"Daddy, that's me."

Before you know it, they have grabbed your boy. "Wait a minute, hold it!" And
they say, "It's okay, his blood is clean. His blood is pure. We want to make sure
he doesn't have the disease. We think he has got the right type." Five tense
minutes later, out come the doctors and nurses, crying and hugging one another -
some are even laughing.

It's the first time you have seen anybody laugh in a week, and an old doctor
walks up to you and says, "Thank you, sir. Your son's blood type is perfect It's
clean, it is pure, and we can make the vaccine." As the word begins to spread all
across that parking lot full of folks, people are screaming and praying and
laughing and crying.

But then the gray-haired doctor pulls you and you wife aside and says, "May we
see you for a moment? We didn't realize that the donor would be a minor and we
need . . . we need you to sign a consent form." You begin to sign and then you
see that the number of pints of blood to be taken is empty.

"H-h-h-how many pints?" And that is when the old doctor's smile fades and he
says, " We had no idea it would be a little child. We weren't prepared. We need
it all!" " But - but..." "You don't understand. We are talking about the world
here. Please sign. We - we need it all - we need it all!" "But can't you give him a
transfusion?" "If we had clean blood we would. Can you sign? Would you
sign?"

In numb silence you do. Then they say, "Would you like to have a moment with
him before we begin?"

Can you walk back? Can you walk back to that room where he sits on a table
saying, "Daddy? Mommy? What's going on?" Can you take his hands and say,
"Son, your mommy and I love you, and we would never ever let anything
happen to you that didn't just have to be. Do you understand that?" And when
that old doctor comes back in and says, "I'm sorry, we've - we've got to get
started. People all over the world are dying." Can you leave? Can you walk out
while he is saying, "Dad? Mom? Dad? Why - why have you forsaken me?"

And then next week, when they have the ceremony to honor your son, and some
folks sleep through it, and some folks don't even come because they go to the
lake, and some folks come with a pretentious smile and just pretend to care.
Would you want to jump up and say, "MY SON DIED! DON'T YOU CARE?"

Is that what He wants to say? "MY SON DIED. DON'T YOU KNOW HOW
MUCH I CARE?"

"Father, seeing it from your eyes breaks our hearts. Maybe now we can begin to
comprehend the great love you have for us. Amen."