Al Gore says he invented it. Microsoft Explorer discovered it. AOL mailed it in. But Google gave the internet legs. It serves as the road map that makes the information superhighway navigable. Google helps you find stuff, which means, sadly, that it also gives directions to the dark side of town. Whether it’s porn or gossip, google knows where to go. Internet assassins can overcome their virtual invisibility by tying their star to someone more recognizable, and then lynching them. I know it’s shocking, but it can be done. Trust me. Google then invites the curious in and we’re all given a tin horn that reads Deputy Vigilante.
Despite that hard reality, it can be used for good. Google enabled me to track down a dear old friend that I have now been praying for for years. It has found for me sundry youtube tutorials that taught me how to unstick my 4-wheel drive, and how to clean the inside of my vent-less fireplace. Google has also been good enough to track down important information, like what the final score was of the first college football game I ever went to. (For those of you who care, Pitt beat Temple 35-24, with sophomore Tony Dorsett rushing for over 100 yards.)
Which got me to thinking about people it would have been impossible to reach pre-google. Not long ago I used this handy tool to track down a classmate of mine from junior high school. This particular classmate, I’m sorry to say, was teased quite a bit. I’m even more sorry to say that not only did I not stick up for him, but I participated in the cruelty. Google helped me track him down. He is a highly respected attorney, and he had an email address. I wrote him an apology, repenting for the ways in which I had wronged him, and he, nearly thirty years later, graciously forgave me.
In like manner, as I started working on my book The Call to Wonder, largely inspired by GK Chesterton, I remembered that one of my college professors had taught during a Fantasy Lit class, that both Tolkien and Lewis were driven by a profound sense of wonder, a sense I believed they may have learned at the feet of Chesterton. During the class I had no idea what my professor was talking about. Twenty years later it started making sense to me. I thought he might be encouraged to know that the wisdom he planted twenty years ago was bearing fruit not only in my life, but in the lives of those who were reading my book. That professor, Dr. James Dixon, was acknowledged in the book, but google enabled me to let him actually know that. Google helped me track down another influential professor in my life to thank her, Kathy Van Til. She passed on to His reward a few days ago. I am blessed to know that I was able to thank her before her homegoing.
So here’s a suggestion. Use google for good. Find someone that you have lost, that either is owed an apology or a thanks. Better yet, do both. Be as specific as you can, both as you repent and as you give thanks. You may heal old wounds. You make put wind under someone’s wings. You will bless someone else. I’m guessing you’ll be glad you did, and so bless yourself. And then, do it again.