Just a moment, now, you who say, “We are
going to such-and-such a city today or tomorrow. We shall stay there a year
doing business and make a profit”! How do you know what will happen even
tomorrow? What, after all, is your life? It is like a puff of smoke visible for
a little while and then dissolving into thin air. Your remarks should be
prefaced with, “If it is the Lord’s will, we shall be alive and will do
so-and-so.” As it is, you get a certain pride in yourself in planning your
future with such confidence. That sort of pride is all wrong. No doubt you
agree with the above in theory. Well, remember that if a man knows what is
right and fails to do it, his failure is a real sin. (James 4:13-17)
It’s easy to
think about today as just another day, isn’t it? You know, an average, typical day
where we go about life concerned with our to-do lists, preoccupied by
appointments, focused on family, and thinking about our desires and needs. On
the average day, we live life caught up in ourselves. On the average day, we
don’t consider God very much, if at all. On the average day, we forget that our
life is like smoke. The truth is, there’s nothing normal about today. Just
think about everything that has to function properly just to survive. Take your
liver, for example. The only people who really think about their liver are
people whose livers don’t work right. The majority of us take our livers for
granted, including other internal organs that we’re dependent upon to live.
Or, what about
driving down the road at 70 miles per hour, only a few feet away from cars
going in the opposite direction, and at the same speed? Someone would only have
to jerk his or her arm and we’d be gone. I don’t think that’s particularly morbid;
that’s just reality. It’s crazy that we think today is just a normal day to do
whatever we want to with it. And to those of us who say, “We’re going to such-and-such a city today or
tomorrow. We shall stay there a year doing business and make a profit,”
James writes, “How do
you know what will happen even tomorrow? What, after all, is your life? It’s like
a puff of smoke visible for a little while and then dissolving into thin air.”
(James 4:13-14)
When we really think
about it, what James says is a little disconcerting. But even after reading
that verse, do we really believe that we could vanish at any minute? Or do we
instead feel, somehow, invincible? Frederick Buechner writes, “Intellectually
we all know that we will die, but we do not really know it in the sense that the
knowledge becomes a part of us. We do not really know it in the sense of living
as though it were true. On the contrary, we tend to live as though our lives
would go on forever.”
I used to
believe that there were just two kinds of people in the world: natural worriers
and naturally joyful people. I’m in the worrying camp, but I don’t call it
“worry.” I use euphemisms like, “I’m just a little concerned,” or “The
situation makes me feel a bit unsettled,” or “I guess I’m just over-thinking
the situation,” or “I suppose I’m just a tiny bit stressed.” I’m a problem
solver. That’s my job. So, I have to focus on things that need fixing. Certainly God can see that my intensity and anxiety are work-related, can’t he? Didn’t
he give me my job in the first place? So, I worry because I take the work he’s
given me very seriously. Right?
But then there’s
this perplexing command from Paul, penned from a Roman jail, to a little church
he and Silas established in Greece: “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it
again: Rejoice!” (Phil. 4:4) Notice that it doesn’t end with “ … unless you’re
doing something extremely important.” No, it’s a command for all of us, and it
follows with the charge, “Don’t worry about anything.” (Vs. 6) Pretty
staggering.
I’ve found that
when I’m consumed by my problems – stressed out about life, or my job – I
actually convey the belief that I think my circumstances are more important
than God’s command to rejoice. In other words, I have the “right” to disobey
God because of the magnitude of my responsibilities. But worry implies that we
don’t quite trust that God is big enough, or powerful enough, or even loving
enough to take care of what’s happening in our lives. And stress says that the
things that we’re involved in are important enough to merit our impatience, or our
lack of grace toward others, or our tight grip of control.
Basically, these
two behaviors communicate that it’s okay to sin and not trust God because the
stuff in my life is somehow exceptional. In a word, worry and stress reek of
arrogance. They declare our tendency to forget that we’ve been forgiven, that
our lives here are brief, that we’re headed to a place where we won’t be
lonely, afraid or hurt ever again, and that in the context of God’s strength,
our problems are small. So why are we so quick to forget about God? I mean, who
do we think we are, anyway? I don’t know about you, but I have to relearn this
lesson often. Even though I glimpse God’s holiness, I’m still dumb enough to
forget that life is all about God and not about me at all.
It’s like being an
extra in an upcoming movie. An extra. Scrutinizing that one scene where
hundreds of people are milling around, just waiting for that two-fifths of a
second when you can see the back of your head. Maybe your wife or your mom get
excited about that two-fifths of a second with you – maybe. But no one else
will even realize it’s you. Even if you tell them, they won’t care. It’s
two-fifths of a second of a shot of the back of your head among hundreds of
heads. But then what if you rent out the theater on opening night and invite
all your friends and family to come see the new movie about you? People would
say, “You’re an idiot. How could you even begin to think this movie is about
you?” Unfortunately, many of us are like that extra because we live like the
movie is all about us. Here’s the real movie.
God creates the
world. Then people rebel against God, and God floods the earth to rid it of the
mess people had made. Several generations later, God singles out a 99 year old
man called Abram and makes him the father of a nation. Later, along come Joseph
and Moses and many other ordinary and inadequate people that the movie is also
not about. God is the one who picks them and directs them and works miracles
through them. In the next scene, God sends judges and prophets to his nation
because the people can’t seem to give him the one thing he asks of them –
obedience. And then, the climax: the Son of God is born among the people whom
God still somehow loves. While in this world, the Son teaches his followers
what true love looks like. Then the Son of God is murdered and is resurrected
and goes back up to be with God. And even though the movie isn’t quite finished
yet, we know what the last scene holds – it’s the throne room of God where
every being worships God who sits on the throne, for He alone is worthy to be
praised.
From start to
finish, the movie is obviously about God. He is the main character. How is it
possible, then, that we live as though it is about us? Our scene in the movie,
our brief lives, falls somewhere between the time Jesus ascends into heaven
(Acts) and when we will all worship God on his throne in heaven. (Revelation)
We have only our two-fifths-of-a-second-long scene to live. Don’t we want that
two-fifths of a second to be about our making much about God? First Corinthians
10:31 says, “So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the
glory of God.” That’s what each of our two-fifths of a second is about.
So, what does that
mean for us? Well, what that means is that we need to get over ourselves. That
may sound a little harsh, but that’s what it means. Because maybe life’s pretty
good for you right now. God has given you this good stuff so that you can show
the world a person who enjoys blessings, but who is still totally obsessed with
God.
Or, maybe life
is tough right now, and everything feels like a struggle. God has allowed hard
things in your life so you can show the world that your God is great and that
knowing him brings peace and joy, even when life is hard. Like the psalmist who
wrote, “I saw the prosperity of the wicked …. Surely in vain have I kept my
heart pure …. When I tried to understand all this, it was oppressive to me until I entered the sanctuary of God.”
(Psalm 73:3, 13, 16-17; emphasis added) It’s easy to become disillusioned with
the circumstances of our lives compared to others’. But in the presence of God,
he gives us a deeper peace and joy that transcends it all. In other words, it
doesn’t really matter what place we find ourselves in now. Our part is to bring
God the glory – whether eating a sandwich on a lunch break, or drinking coffee
at 12:04 a.m. so you can stay awake to study, or watching your four-month-old
take a nap. The point of our life is to point to Him. Whatever we’re doing, God
wants to be glorified because this whole thing is His. It’s His movie; it’s His
world; it’s His gift.
But even though
God has given us this life – this brief scene in His movie – we still forget
we’re not in control. It’s like having a newborn and now the 5 year-old wants
to carry the baby around the house. You’re constantly telling them to be
careful because the baby’s fragile. But when will the newborn no longer be
fragile? Two? Eight? In junior high? College? Married with kids of their own?
Life’s always fragile, and it’s never under control. And isn’t it the easiest
thing at that point to start living in a guarded, safe, controlled way? To stop
taking risks and to be ruled by our fears of what could happen?
Turning inward
is one way to respond; the other is to acknowledge our lack of control because
it makes us run to God. Just think about it. Throughout time, somewhere between
forty-five billion and one hundred twenty-five billion people have lived on
this earth. That’s 125,000,000,000. In about fifty years (give or take a couple
of decades), no one will remember us. Everyone we know will have died. No one
will care about the job we had, or the car we drove, what school we attended,
or what clothes we wore. Take Stan Gerlach, for example. Stan was a successful
businessman, a flag football coach, and very well known in his community. He
was asked to give a eulogy at a memorial service of a friend when he decided to
share the gospel. At the end of his message, Stan told the mourners, “You never
know when God is going to take your life. At that moment, there’s nothing you
can do about it. Are you ready?” Then Stan sat down, bowed his head like he was
praying, and died. Attendees tried to resuscitate him, but there was nothing
they could do – just as Stan had said only minutes earlier.
Imagine what it
must have felt like for Stan. One moment, he’s at a memorial service for a
friend saying to a crowd, “This is who Jesus is!” The next, he’s standing before
God hearing Jesus say, “This is who Stan Gerlach is!” One second he’s
confessing Jesus; a second later, Jesus is confessing him. It can happen that
quickly.
Ready?
Grace,
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