by Steven Clark Goad
4:14b). "Man, whadya say when you get that kind of news? So I went sky divin'; I went Rocky Mountain climbin'; I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fu Man-chu." So go the words of a popular country song. Not that I would select those activities, mind you, if I'd just been told I was terminal (which I am), but there is something urgent about living when we've just been informed we haven't much time left in this old world. Terri Shaivo is gone. Karol Wojtyla (John Paul II) is gone. Oscar Osburn and Steve Ford and Aggie Bra-man and Bessie Beers and J. D. and Lester and Sibyl Leah and Emily are all on the other side now. And there is absolutely nothing we can do about it, except mourn perhaps, or rejoice. For, you see, church, we are all term-inal. Not one of us gets out of this alive. My step-mom Lucy was just given two weeks. Am I being unduly morbid? I think not. Realistic would be a better word. Stay with me. Most of us have been urged to think of what we might do differently if we knew today was our last on planet earth. Granted, it's a sobering thought. Bull-riding would not be at the top of my list, if only in deference to the blessed bull. Yet I do believe we might "talk a little sweeter" to those we know. Mom spent her last lucid days trying to share Jesus with as many as she could. What a neat example for a teenage son. Hmmmm. If today were my last, would I do what I did yesterday? Would that much TV consume my time? Would the newspaper and Time and Newsweek and Reader's Digest redden my eyes? Would I mow the lawn one last time, wash the car, get my hair cut (chuckle), tell someone off, plan summer vacation, mop the floor, empty the trash, get set up for that giant yard sale? Or would I, just maybe, be more selective with my choices? Oh, yes! I would definitely have a last supper with some of my dearest friends. I would be sure to remind them how much they mean to me and how I loved them so. I would speak to my sons and sister and dad and Jere and Carl and God. Yes! For sure!! I'd have a serious, focused, arduous talk with the "Holy Father." I wonder why I didn't do that yesterday. And instead of doing a crossword or reading the comics, I just might savor the Sermon on the Mount and Stephen's bold farewell add-ress one more time. Life is precious. Most of us cherish it-cling to it tenaciously. A few wish they had never been born. Life is a valuable gift from God. But it pales in comparison to salvation. "I came that you might have abundant life," said the Master. Only in him can it possibly be lived abundantly. Yet life is temporary. Eternity is forever. So how shall the living secure their hearts? One day at a time. That's how. One step at a time, dear Savior. I cannot take any more. Moment to moment. Thus, when you speak to another, do so kindly. When you are about to do something that belies your stewardship/discipleship, choose the higher road. Relish each day in the shadow of the cross. There may be no more tomorrows. So, "love a little deeper" as that smaltzy song says. One more try. I suppose what I am struggling to say is, be sure to live like you were dying. Jesus did. |
|---|
| Return To Perspectives |
|---|