Tag Archives: Faithfullness

When Death Finally Finds Me


No one lives forever.  In less than a week I will be closer to 60 than 50 and am astonished at how quickly the moments of my life keep racing by.  Everyone admits we will all die someday, but “someday” always seems to be an ambiguous and nonspecific point in the distant future.  We convince ourselves that “someday” will never be this day.

But soon enough for all of us, “someday” will become “today” and we will cross that great divide and pass on into death.  And some of us, whether or not we admit it, are closer to that day than others.  Contrary to many inspirational speakers of our day, thinking about death is not an exercise in morbidity or negativity.  From a biblical perspective, it is an exercise in circumspection and wisdom.  Moses puts it this way in Psalm 90: “The years of our life are . . . soon gone, and we fly away. . . .  So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.”

Thoughts about death fundamentally change our attitude in life and the manner in which we spend the precious time God so graciously grants each of us.  The only question we must ask ourselves today—and every day God gives us life—is this: Am I letting God use me for His glory?  Am I being truly and fully faithful to Him right now?

Lord God, help me remember the brevity and transience of this life.  Give me the grace to trust in and follow You all the days of my life, starting with today, so that when “someday” finally comes, I can meet You in the glorious life that is to come free of all shame and regret.

For Such a Time as This


Growing up, I often dreamed of living in another time and place.  Some long to live in the future, fascinated by imagined and fantastic things that might someday become possible and common-place.  I, on the other hand, always felt like I was born too late, ill-fitted for life in the present age.  The quixotic past I envisioned living in was safer, slower, less technological and complex.

It’s easy, after all, to romanticize the imagined past and the dreams of the future when you don’t actually live in them.  It’s far harder is to live well within the messy and difficult realities of the present.

Many things make me want to live in the past, but the recent rapid rise of digital information technologies has been especially instrumental in increasing this nostalgic yearning.  The explosions of tech innovation and the accompanying breakneck pace of cultural and academic alterations in teaching have disoriented, dumbfounded, and discouraged me.  The methods and means of education are changing so rapidly, I wonder if I’ll be able to finish my career as a professor if I cannot quickly adapt to these relentless and radical technological transformations.

I frequently catch myself thinking, “Perhaps if I was born about fifteen years earlier, I would not have to worry about all these changes.  I would be approaching retirement and could let younger generations figure it all out.” But if my health and mind hold out, there could many years of teaching opportunities ahead.  God has been reminding me that like it or not, I will have to face these challenges in the here and now.  And when you really think about it, what other time do we have to live within but the actual present?

I suspect that many have wrestled with the longing to escape the difficulties of today by wanting to live in the future or the past.  And while we can certainly learn from the past and look to the future, God still calls us to live well in the present—the exact time and place in which He has chosen us to live and move and have our being.  As such, none of us were born too late or too early.

As Mordecai reminded Esther, we were born for such a time as this, created at just the right time for God’s sovereign plans to be revealed and fulfilled in and through us.  I doubt Esther wanted to risk her life to save her people from extermination, but it was the time and place in which God had positioned her.  That moment gave her the opportunity and responsibility to live well in the present. She accepted it with courage and used it wisely.

If we are willing to embrace with faith and joy the place and time in which God has positioned us, and if we are willing to live—really live—in that actual present, I suspect God will grant us many opportunities—big and small—that we alone are meant to accept and fulfill.  They may or may not be, like Esther, life-risking, nation-saving endeavors, but in the here and now of God’s purposes and plans they still matter immensely nonetheless.  May we therefore attend to and live well within the present prospects God grants us so long as it is still called today.

Lament of an Unexceptional Writer


Looking through some catalogs the other day, I came across the fourth volume in a five-volume systematic theology series being written by my PhD mentor, Veli-Matti Kärrkäinen.  It’s a massive 520-page tome that only represents one fifth of the entire work.  Besides these works, he has also written and edited more than twenty other books, over one hundred articles and chapters in collected works, and shows no signs of diminishing his voluminous output.  He does all of this on top of a full-time seminary teaching position that includes not only regular class responsibilities but also the mentoring of several PhD mentees.  He is also a part-time pastor of a Finnish church in Southern California since Finnish (not English!) is his native tongue.  In addition, he is docent of ecumenics at the University of Helsinki and is active in the World Council of Churches.  I’m assuming he also finds time to spend with his wife and children since he is happily married and the father of two.

I share this to make a point.  There are some people in this world who are not only exceptionally brilliant, they are exceptionally energetic and disciplined as well.  I know this because it takes much more than intelligence and energy to write books and articles.  It takes discipline and a lot of hard work.

As a writer, I have a folder in my computer entitled, “Thoughts on Files.”  When an idea or sudden flash of insight strikes me, I take a few moments to write down the beginnings of what I want to say about the issue, event, or idea.  As of this writing, besides numerous (bad and amateurish) poems, I have sixty blog posts (two of which are poems) and over a hundred and forty other “thoughts on files” saved for future development.  There are also sketches and outlines for at least three major books and several articles.  The fact is, I have tons of ideas I want to develop and communicate to others with more coming all the time.

If I am honest, however, it seems likely the vast majority will never be developed into even short works of writing, let alone a fully developed feature-length articles or full-blown books.  I could live another lifetime or two and never have enough time to write all I want to write.  Doubtless, additional lifetimes would only produce additional ideas that would continue to pile up in the “to be developed someday” folder.

When I think about it, it drives me to lament.  It does not bother me much that I may never engender a widespread readership or that my blogs will never go “viral.”  What vexes me more is the great likelihood that I will never have the satisfaction of taking all these scraps and pieces and weave them into a coherent and helpful whole that might be used by God for His glory and the edification of Christ’s body, the church.

Between the daily responsibilities of my teaching and mentoring ministry coupled with my family life and other interests, it is unlikely I have the intelligence, energy, or discipline to bring these thoughts to any semblance of full fruition.  Like the journals, letters, books, essays, memos, and poems of countless other average writers through the corridors of time, they will all turn to dust and be forgotten to the world in a relatively short span of time.

My lament, then, is not so much a lament of frustration or anger: “Why did you make me this way, God?”  Rather, it is a lament that my time and energy keep running out.  I think in my heart of hearts, I did want to make a larger and broader contribution to the body of Christ, perhaps by leaving behind a bestseller or two.  But in the end, the impact I have, though felt in much smaller ways, will be no less significant, so long as I am faithful to gifts and abilities God has given me.

They may not be gifts on a level with the exceptional whom we can certainly appreciate and admire.  Nevertheless, His gifts to me are still precious, and He only asks me to offer them up and use them for His glory.  I raise, therefore, not merely a lament, but also a sacrifice of thanksgiving and praise to God for all I have been given, be it much or little when compared to other writers.

As writer-extraordinaire John Lennox puts it in Against the Flow, “We must learn to be content with the significance that God gives us . . . and contentment comes when we understand that it has pleased God to make us just as we are” (81-82).

Thank you, Lord, for gifting Your church with exceptional writers.  And thank You, too, for making me just as I am and helping me use my gifts for Your greater glory and honor.