It has hardly been a blink, and we are towards the end of January. For all the good intentions and ruminations of December, I am still merely standing at the stocks, not having started the run. Strange, it seems that humans can whistle away so many days without assent; the days just barrel on whilst we are engrossed in nothingness. Stagnation can so imperil and stump us.
The endgame is a life lived well for the LORD. We were made and saved, for and with purpose; our days, definitely numbered, are not to be squandered away. Reality will testify that they have simply seeped through our fingers. We are bogged down, assuaged and pasted by an array of cares and concerns; our fruitfulness is jeopardized by the choking of the weeds. It is a relief, to be jerked to our senses, to avoid repeating this insidious outrage. We are redeemed, not by gold and silver, but by the precious blood of the Lamb. Ought we to surrender our days pursuing the glimmering glitter? Are our days dedicated to the LORD and His purposes? Who really has scuttled our race? Will we offer, a sullied and decrepit account of our days, to the One who paid so high a price for us?
Thankfully we are not left to our own devices. We have His Counselor, His Church, and His word to constantly redirect our attentions, if we would listen. Mercifully, we would be graced to relent, our taut necks in obedience to the One who loved us and gave for us, His life in evidence.
The endgame is a life lived well for the LORD. We were made and saved, for and with purpose; our days, definitely numbered, are not to be squandered away. Reality will testify that they have simply seeped through our fingers. We are bogged down, assuaged and pasted by an array of cares and concerns; our fruitfulness is jeopardized by the choking of the weeds. It is a relief, to be jerked to our senses, to avoid repeating this insidious outrage. We are redeemed, not by gold and silver, but by the precious blood of the Lamb. Ought we to surrender our days pursuing the glimmering glitter? Are our days dedicated to the LORD and His purposes? Who really has scuttled our race? Will we offer, a sullied and decrepit account of our days, to the One who paid so high a price for us?
Thankfully we are not left to our own devices. We have His Counselor, His Church, and His word to constantly redirect our attentions, if we would listen. Mercifully, we would be graced to relent, our taut necks in obedience to the One who loved us and gave for us, His life in evidence.
The days of our years are threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, yet is their strength labour and sorrow; for it is soon cut off, and we fly away. Who knoweth the power of thine anger? even according to thy fear, so is thy wrath. So teach us to number our days, that we may apply our hearts unto wisdom. (Psa 90:10-12)
Ready to start continuing the race?
God bless.
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