A Personal Story

I’m starting March with a personal story and reflection on my recent encounters with opportunism, rather than one of my usual faith-based tales. Sometimes, it’s important to share what really happens and learn from it. I hope this serves as encouragement for you to focus on what truly matters most.

Opportunism Versus Faith

Call me old-fashioned, but I like to begin with dictionary definitions.

According to Merriam-Webster, opportunism is “the art, policy, or practice of taking advantage of opportunities or circumstances, often with little regard for principles or consequences.” It represents a self-serving approach to situations, commonly used in politics or personal affairs to achieve immediate or personal gain—sometimes at the expense of ethical considerations.

Faith, on the other hand, is defined as “allegiance to duty or a person; loyalty, fidelity to promises, sincerity of intentions, or firm belief in something for which there is no proof.”

You may be wondering: what do these two words have to do with one another? Are they related at all?

In truth, they represent everyday choices—a way of living. Although opportunism and faith differ greatly in action, their root is the same: the heart. One prioritizes self; the other prioritizes others. An opportunist acts in favor of personal gain, regardless of the harm it may cause. A faithful person is bound by conviction to place others before themselves.

Why am I making this distinction? Because when you experience both of these lifestyles through the people around you, you cannot help but be impacted—either deeply hurt or deeply blessed.

Let me share a few personal experiences.

In October of last year, I received the most dreadful phone call from my father. My mother was in the emergency room, about thirty-five minutes from where I lived. As my husband drove me to the hospital, my mind flooded with a storm of emotions.

When we arrived, my father met us outside and told us she hadn’t made it.

My heart broke. My legs gave way beneath me.

My father and husband helped me into the room to see her. I caressed her forehead while trying to process the doctor’s words. After he left, a hospital staff member came in to discuss arrangements.

That’s when I noticed my mother was still wearing her pearl earrings and her gold necklace with a heart-shaped ruby. I managed to remove the earrings, but I couldn’t unclasp the necklace.

Ten minutes later, when I returned to the room, it was gone.

Taken.

The nurse could not explain what had happened. In my grief, I did not pursue it. I had more urgent matters to handle. But there it was—opportunism. Someone taking advantage of our deepest sorrow without a trace of conscience.

Outrageous.

Then, at the end of November, I asked my husband to mail the Christmas cards I had lovingly handmade for friends and family abroad, including my son’s birthday card. The postal clerk asked whether he wanted to add tracking, but since they were “just Christmas cards,” he declined.

The cards never arrived.

Not one.

My son never received his 22nd birthday card. My family and friends never received their Christmas greetings.

Opportunism again—someone disregarding integrity for personal gain.

Disgraceful.

And yet, that is not the whole story of humanity.

In my youth, I had the opportunity to study theology. On weekends, I visited members of a small congregation in a very poor village. Each Sunday, I spent time with a different family, and what I encountered in their homes was love without measure. Though they had little, they offered me the very best they possessed. I never once felt like a burden; instead, I felt welcomed, valued, and truly cherished.

Precious memories.

Years later, shortly after we moved abroad, my husband needed urgent surgery. I felt alone and vulnerable in a new country. He was working while I was studying. We had two young boys. How would we make ends meet?

The pastor of the church we had just begun attending brought us food hampers for months, along with homemade meals. No questions asked. No expectations. No conditions.

Just help.

Providential.

I could continue describing encounters with opportunism and the scars they left. I could even excuse such behavior by saying it is ingrained in culture, present at every level of society.

But I would rather count my blessings.

There are people who live by a different code—like the one described in Hebrews 11:1:

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”

They have not seen the Savior, yet they believe in Him. They live as though this world is not all there is. They treat others as they themselves would wish to be treated.

There are hearts full of self—and hearts full of Jesus.

Which one are you?