One day we'll all be there. For some of it will be gurneys, for others it'll be beds at home, but someday we will be horizontal, flattened by a life lived and expiring. And when we look back on our life what will we think? "I wish I'd watched more TV, I wish I'd eaten more ice cream, I wish I'd pursued more hobbies, I wish I'd bought more stuff, earned more money and I wish I'd had more 'me time'."
No my guess is we'll think about people. We'll wish we'd spent more time with our kids, more time loving our wives, more time welcoming strangers - that sort of stuff. Kingdom stuff.
My brother's been challenging me recently to think about my death bed and to live accordingly. It's really helpful, though most everything in me wants to pursue me these days. But when I'm actually on THE BED, I'm not going to be thinking of me, I know it. And I don't want my BED to be one of sweaty regret.
Even dwelling on my BED to try and live better can be a little ego-driven. I need some other source to live well. Some other source to do what I don't naturally want or can even do.
I NEED God. I need God just as much now as I'll need him on my bed. So how many breaths do I have? I don't know, but every breath is a gift breathed into us by God, every moment a treasure, and every millisecond an opportunity arises: Will we live for God's Kingdom and truly live, or will we live for our own kingdom and die? Thrive or shrivel, the choice is ours.
We'll all die physically, but wouldn't it be great if our deaths were restful (even though possibly painful), but restful with God's rest, his great Sabbath, because with as much as we will have stumbled and tripped through life, we will have sought to live our life in God, for him and for others.
I write what I wish for. For on THE BED the walls between our reality and God's are paper thin and I'd love to break through with joy. And the good news is I will, we will, so be encouraged.
