2 Timothy 4:6-8

Many people think about the last years of life as an opportunity to just relax. But this does not align with God’s purpose for us; He wants us to serve Him all the days of our lives.

Let’s look at the apostle Paul’s journey and explore what it means to finish well. He spent time pouring into others until the very end of his life. Consider the letters he wrote to Timothy from a prison cell prior to being executed. In every season of life, God calls us to serve others.

And notice how, when writing about his life, the apostle chose words descriptive of a battle. He understood the human struggle against sin as well as the challenges of pain and persecution in the trials we all face–even in doing kingdom work like preaching Christ to a fiercely resistant society.

This godly servant’s life was also marked by surrender. His mindset is obvious in these words: “present your bodies a living and holy sacrifice, acceptable to God, which is your spiritual service of worship” (Rom. 12:1). He was not afraid of Nero, nor was he struggling to stay alive. Paul trusted God to determine everything about his life, including where he would go, what he would do, and when he would die. Death did not scare him, because he knew he would dwell with Jesus forever.

God doesn’t require our lives to be perfect in order to finish strong. We can live life fully and be ready to meet our Maker by surrendering, walking victoriously with Christ, and serving others. If Jesus called you home today, would you–like Paul–be confident that you lived well until the end?

 Ballet lost some of its wonder when it was explained. It was a class that was supposed to lift my mind, lighten my spirit, and boost my grade point average. Instead it became a one-credit nightmare: a class dedicated to dissecting moves I could not duplicate, within a semester that seemed to slowly dismember my romantic fascination with dance.

 Explanations sometimes have a way of leaving their questioners with a sense of loss. Students note this phenomenon regularly. Expounded principles of light refraction and water particles seem to explain away the rainbow, or at least some of its mystique. Air pressure, gravity, and the laws of physics deconstruct the optical mystery of the curve ball. Knowledge and experience can ironically leave us with a sense of disappointment or disenchantment. 

 I recently read an article that scientifically explained the glow of a firefly. The author noted the nerves and chemical compounds that make the “fire” possible, pointing out that it is merely a signal used for mating and is in fact far from the many romantic myths that have long surrounded it. As one who delights in the stories of science but simultaneously a fanciful story before a sky ignited with bugs, I put the article down with a sigh. And then a thought occurred to me in a manner not unlike the description itself: The light shines in the darkness and the darkness does not overcome it.(1) Where nerves and photocytes seem to explain away the glow of the firefly, have we any more erased the miracle of light? 

 However accurate or inaccurate our explanations might be, they sometimes have a way of leading us to short-sighted conclusions. They have also led us to outright incongruity. Brilliant minds try with great effort to define humanity as an impersonal collocation of matter, an adult germ in a vast cosmic machine. We have brusquely described life as a tale told by an idiot, signifying nothing, only to claim that this should not lead us to despair. We have declared our appetites and our reason the gods of a better religion, while insisting both God and religion to be an invention of the human psyche. We scoff at the notion of a savior who frees the captive or restores the fallen, while maintaining we live with every qualification for human dignity, distinction, and freedom. Are these even realistic applications of our own philosophies? Do the explanations warrant the conclusions? 

 On the contrary, we seem to undermine our own mines. Why should a tale told by an idiot have players of any intrinsic value? Why would an impersonal, cosmic accident see herself as a personal, relational being worthy of dignity? What we are attempting to explain away in one sentence, we are arguing for in the next. 

 Explanations need not always lead us to the conclusion that all is lost. But neither should our explanations lead us to conclusions that contradict our own accounts. Thankfully, in both cases, there are times in life where we find, like Job, that we have spoken out of turn and discover there may be more to the story. Sitting through the whirlwind of God’s own 63 questions, Job exclaims: “I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.”

Ever thankfully, I believe there is invitation that both invites great disclosures and discloses in great mystery. “Call to me,” the God of wisdom tells the prophet and the people. “And I will answer you and tell you great and hidden things that you have not known.” The presence of light can be overlooked, but it cannot be explained away. Can we any more explain away the presence of God?

 Jill Carattini is managing editor of A Slice of Infinity at Ravi Zacharias International Ministries in Atlanta, Georgia.

 (1) John 1:5.

Morning  “The myrtle trees that were in the bottom.” / Zechariah 1:8

The vision in this chapter describes the condition of Israel in Zechariah’s
day; but being interpreted in its aspect towards us, it describes the Church
of God as we find it now in the world. The Church is compared to a myrtle
grove flourishing in a valley. It is hidden, unobserved, secreted; courting no
honour and attracting no observation from the careless gazer. The Church, like
her head, has a glory, but it is concealed from carnal eyes, for the time of
her breaking forth in all her splendour is not yet come. The idea of tranquil
security is also suggested to us: for the myrtle grove in the valley is still
and calm, while the storm sweeps over the mountain summits. Tempests spend
their force upon the craggy peaks of the Alps, but down yonder where flows the
stream which maketh glad the city of our God, the myrtles flourish by the
still waters, all unshaken by the impetuous wind. How great is the inward
tranquility of God’s Church! Even when opposed and persecuted, she has a peace
which the world gives not, and which, therefore, it cannot take away: the
peace of God which passeth all understanding keeps the hearts and minds of
God’s people. Does not the metaphor forcibly picture the peaceful, perpetual
growth of the saints? The myrtle sheds not her leaves, she is always green;
and the Church in her worst time still hath a blessed verdure of grace about
her; nay, she has sometimes exhibited most verdure when her winter has been
sharpest. She has prospered most when her adversities have been most severe.
Hence the text hints at victory. The myrtle is the emblem of peace, and a
significant token of triumph. The brows of conquerors were bound with myrtle
and with laurel; and is not the Church ever victorious? Is not every Christian
more than a conqueror through him that loved him? Living in peace, do not the
saints fall asleep in the arms of victory?

Evening   “Howl, fir tree, for the cedar is fallen.” / Zechariah 11:2

When in the forest there is heard the crash of a falling oak, it is a sign
that the woodman is abroad, and every tree in the whole company may tremble
lest to-morrow the sharp edge of the axe should find it out. We are all like
trees marked for the axe, and the fall of one should remind us that for every
one, whether great as the cedar, or humble as the fir, the appointed hour is
stealing on apace. I trust we do not, by often hearing of death, become
callous to it. May we never be like the birds in the steeple, which build
their nests when the bells are tolling, and sleep quietly when the solemn
funeral peals are startling the air. May we regard death as the most weighty
of all events, and be sobered by its approach. It ill behoves us to sport
while our eternal destiny hangs on a thread. The sword is out of its
scabbard–let us not trifle; it is furbished, and the edge is sharp–let us
not play with it. He who does not prepare for death is more than an ordinary
fool, he is a madman. When the voice of God is heard among the trees of the
garden, let fig tree and sycamore, and elm and cedar, alike hear the sound
thereof.

Be ready, servant of Christ, for thy Master comes on a sudden, when an ungodly
world least expects him. See to it that thou be faithful in his work, for the
grave shall soon be digged for thee. Be ready, parents, see that your children
are brought up in the fear of God, for they must soon be orphans; be ready,
men of business, take care that your affairs are correct, and that you serve
God with all your hearts, for the days of your terrestrial service will soon
be ended, and you will be called to give account for the deeds done in the
body, whether they be good or whether they be evil. May we all prepare for the
tribunal of the great King with a care which shall be rewarded with the
gracious commendation, “Well done, good and faithful servant”

Wail, O cypress, for the cedar has fallen.   Zechariah 11:2

 When in the forest there is heard the crash of a falling oak, it is a sign that the woodman is around, and every tree in the whole company may tremble lest tomorrow the sharp edge of the axe should find it out. We are all like trees marked for the axe, and the fall of one should remind us that for every one, whether as great as the cedar or as humble as the cypress, the appointed hour is fast approaching.

I trust we do not, by often hearing of death, become callous to it. May we never be like the birds in the steeple, which build their nests when the bells are tolling and sleep quietly when the solemn funeral peals are startling the air. May we regard death as the most serious of all events and be sobered by its approach. It ill behooves us to play while our eternal destiny hangs on a thread. The sword is out of its sheath—let us not trifle; it is ready, and the edge is sharp—let us not play with it. He who does not prepare for death is more than an ordinary fool—he is a madman. When the voice of God is heard among the trees of the garden, let fig tree and sycamore and elm and cedar all hear the sound.

Be ready, servant of Christ, for your Master comes suddenly, when an ungodly world least expects Him. See to it that you are faithful in His work, for the grave shall soon be prepared for you. Be ready, parents, see to it that your children are brought up in the fear of God, for they will soon be orphans. Be ready, businessmen, make sure that your affairs are in order and that you serve God with all your hearts, for the days of your earthly service will soon be over, and you will be called to give account for the deeds done in the body, whether they are good or bad. May we all prepare for the tribunal of the great King with a care that will be rewarded with the gracious commendation, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”1

1Matthew 25:21

Family Reading Plan     Ezekiel 29   Psalm 78