One evening not long ago, Joan was about ready to fix dinner. I forget what we were having, but I remember she asked what I would like with it. She asked if I would prefer noodles, rice or potatoes.

Giving it intense thought, I responded: "Whatever."

A little later, after dinner, we were sitting at the table when Joan asked: "Would you rather do the dishes or bathe Owen?"

Now given that these are two very enticing possibilities, I contemplated them seriously and responded: "Whatever."

Well, a little while later, after the dishes were done, Owen was bathed, and both boys were off to bed, Joan asked: "What would you like for dessert? We have ice cream, cookies and a piece or two of pie."

You would think this would be a decision I would want to make. But what did I say?

Yup, you’re right: "Whatever."

Today, "whatever" is about as common a response as you can find. It isn’t "Yes." It isn’t "No." It’s "Whatever." It’s a way of saying, "I don’t care. You choose because it doesn’t matter to me." And that would be fine if it were only about side dishes or desserts. But that is not the case. It seems to have affected the way we approach far more important matters.

Last year, we had one of the most hotly contested presidential elections in years. Clearly it was a case in which every vote mattered. Yet throughout the campaign poll after poll showed little interest in the process or the candidates. On election day, less than half of all eligible voters bothered to mark a ballot. People were saying, "whatever" to who would be president.

Every night, more than a million children go to bed homeless and hungry in the United States alone. The situation is no better than it was five years ago or 10 years ago. Yet there has been a collective "yawn" about these people. "Whatever" seems to be the nation’s response whenever its raised.

Meg Greenfield of Newsweek has even suggested that a "Whatever" attitude has been at the heart of the nation’s response to the wall-to-wall scandals among public figures over the last few years. Overwhelmed by their number, people reply "whatever."
It’s just another way to say, "I don’t care."

We live in a "Whatever" world, a world filled with cynicism and withdrawal, a world where many people, particularly our younger people, simply find it too hard to care.

Yet as people of faith, we can never be comfortable in such a world. We can never be happy in a "Whatever" world because God is not a "Whatever" God. God cares. God cares passionately about each of us. And it shows in Jesus Christ.

Jesus was in Galilee when some Pharisees came to warn him that Herod was out to get him. Herod was a powerful man. As ruler of Galilee, he could do pretty much what he wanted and what he wanted was rid of Jesus. But Jesus didn’t budge. He told them that he would be at work in Galilee for a few more days and that then he would go to Jerusalem.

Now the text doesn’t say it, but I can hear a change in Jesus’ voice as he mentions that word "Jerusalem." As he thinks about that great city, as he thinks about all the prophets who have gone there before him, as he thinks about how the people have rejected God’s care time and time again, Jesus begins to grieve.

"Jerusalem, Jerusalem," he says, "how often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!"

Here is a man who knows that he is going to Jerusalem, that he will be rejected by the people, arrested by the authorities, suffer at the hands of his enemies and be executed for no crime at all. And yet, he weeps--not for himself but for the very people who will reject him. His heart breaks because he cares for them, seeks for them salvation, is willing to do whatever it takes to gather them under God’s wings. He weeps over Jerusalem--and all humanity--because he has the heart of God and God cares.

And those who follow Jesus, follow his example.

Two men were sitting at lunch one day when the topic of church came up. The first said that his congregation had a new preacher.

"What happened to the old one?" his friend asked.

"We didn’t much care for him, so he left."

"What didn’t you like about him?"

"It was his preaching," the man said. "He kept telling us we are sinners and that if we didn’t repent we would face the judgment of God."

"Oh," the second man said. "So what does the new one preach?"

"He tells us that we’re sinners and that if we don’t repent we will face the judgment of God."

The second man looked a little confused. "I don’t understand," he said. "What’s the difference?"

"The new one," his friend noted, "has tears in his eyes when he says it."

What was the difference between the two? The new one cared. The plight of people mattered enough for him to weep over their place before God.

Since college, she had worked in a shelter feeding and clothing the homeless. Every night she would go there and see the faces of too many people seeking two few beds. She would watch as too many children came in with too many needs.

Then one morning, she just collapsed. It finally got to her--the long hours, the overwhelming need, the seemingly hopeless task.
Some folks said she was depressed. Others said that she was burnt out. But when they finally went to talk to her, when they finally asked her what had happened, she had a better word for it. She called it "grief." In the name of Christ, she cared for so many for so long. Her heart was simply broken by the needs of these children of God.

  A reporter was covering the conflict in Sarejevo several years ago when a little girl on the street right in front of him was struck by a sniper’s bullet. Before the reporter could move, a man scooped up the little girl and began pleading for the reporter to drive them to the hospital.

What could the reporter say? Without hesitating he loaded them in his car and began making his way to the hospital.

As they went, the man said: "Please hurry. My little girl’s still alive."

A few minutes later he repeated his plea through his tears. "Hurry, please. She’s still breathing."

And still a few minutes later: "Please hurry. My little girl is still warm."

And hurry the reporter did. But by the time they arrived at the hospital it was too late. The girl’s wounds were too severe.

Later, the man and the reporter went into the restroom to wash the child’s blood from their hands. As they leaned over the sinks, the man said to the reporter: "Now comes the hard part."

"What’s that?" the reporter asked.

"Now I have to find the little girl’s father and tell him she is dead."

The reporter was stunned. "I thought you were her father! I thought she was your child!"

"Aren’t they all our children?"

It is a good question isn’t it?

When was the last time we wept over the teenagers in Corpus Christi who are getting pregnant and having children?

When was the last time we wept for the homeless men and women who live under the Crosstown Expressway?

When was the last time we wept for the children who aren’t getting the education they need to succeed in the future?

When was the last time we wept over the people who don’t know Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior?

When was the last time we wept because people refused to let God gather them under God’s wings?

We live in a world that often doesn’t care. We live in a world that says "whatever" to such people and their struggles. But we can never do so because we serve a God who weeps for them, who longs to bring them under God’s wing, who says not "Whatever" but "Whatever it takes, I will bring them in."