Decades ago, theologian Francis Schaeffer authored a book that asked, How Should We Then Live? This remains a valid question today, although it would be difficult to reach a consensus on the right answer. But whether we realize it or not, we’re offering our own answers by how we approach each new day.
“Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.” I don’t remember when or where I first heard that, but it’s true – simplistic as it seems. We worry about what will or could happen tomorrow, then before we know it, ‘tomorrow’ has suddenly transformed into today – and there’s a brand-new tomorrow to fret over.
Not one of us is guaranteed tomorrow. Regardless of our age, all we’ve got is today. We can choose to dwell on our yesterdays; we can reach for the future like trying to grasp the just-out-of-reach brass ring on a merry-go-round, or we can focus on today and decide how to go about living it.
One way of looking at it would be to, “Live like there’s no tomorrow.” But even that’s up for interpretation. Some would take that as license to indulge in whatever practices and pleasures they please. Like the old advertising slogans, “Grab the gusto” or “You only go around once.” This approach might provide brief excitement and gratification, but thrills fade quickly. Then what?
A better approach, I believe, is to recognize each day as a gift from God. We can rejoice at having been given another chance to enjoy His creation, whether it’s billowy clouds in a bright blue sky, vast expanses like the Grand Canyon, a baby’s laugh, or a beautiful field of wildflowers. We can revel in relationships, appreciating cherished family members and friends. And we can strive use and further develop the talents, experiences and passions we’ve cultivated over time.
It’s not wrong to dream about what we’d like to do in the future. We can make plans, whether for the weekend, next week, next month or next year. But all we have for certain is today – the next minute, the next hour. We all know people who no longer have that.
Recently my high school graduating class held another reunion. I wasn’t able to attend this one but did receive a report afterward and saw photos from the event. Out of our class of 305, about 45 alums were able to participate.
It was fun to look at the updated images of old classmates, even if I didn’t recognize many of them. (The passing years have a curious way of changing our looks.) But one photo was sobering. It was of a poster entitled, “In Remembrance,” listing classmates known to be no longer with us. The list contained 94 names – nearly one-third of our class.
Most had passed away in recent years, but others had died decades ago, including two who lost their lives in combat while serving in the Vietnam War less than one year after graduating. I still remember having spent time with some of them in class, performing in the high school band, or at school events.
I don’t mean to sound morbid. It’s just a tangible reminder of an old Latin saying, “Tempus fugit” – time flies. When we received diplomas marking the end of our high school years, we all felt excitement and wonder, and maybe some nervousness, not knowing what the future held. I doubt many of us understood then that every new day would indeed be a new gift, undeserved but available either to use productively or squander in vain pursuits.
The Scriptures provide reminders of this. Writing to believers in the ancient city of Ephesus – yet very applicable for us in the 21stcentury – the apostle Paul admonished:
“For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord. Live as children of light…and find out what pleases the Lord…. Be very careful, then, how you live – not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil” (Ephesians 5:8-16).
This doesn’t suggest time itself is inherently bad. However, time has a disconcerting habit of racing by quickly and we can’t recapture it. We all have different talents; we don’t all have identical material resources. But regardless of affluence, age or social standing, we each have the same amount of time – 24 hours, 1,440 minutes every day. So, we should be about, as another translation expresses it, “redeeming the time.”
In James 4:14 we read, “You do not even know what will happen tomorrow! What is your life? You are a mist [a vapor] that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” So, getting back to the question, “How should we then live?”, what are we going to do with the time allotted?
Living like there’s no tomorrow isn’t necessarily bad; it can be a very positive thing. Yes, we can have fun or relax at times with no particular goal in mind. But life’s most fulfilling when it’s being invested – lived intentionally, not simply spent. We can best do this by determining to engage in worthwhile endeavors.
The apostle Paul put it this way in Galatians 6:10, “Therefore, as we have the opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.” Another apostle, Peter, urged us to live following the example of how Jesus lived, ultimately giving His life for us as the once and for all atonement for sin. His life, without question, was filled with intention. Our response? “Consequently, [the Christ follower] does not live out his remaining time on earth for human passions, but for the will of God” (1 Peter 4:2).
When we awaken each morning, perhaps it would be good not only to thank the Lord for another day, but also to ask, “How would You like me to use it?”
No comments:
Post a Comment