Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come . . . (Ecclesiastes 12:1).
To those who take time to consider the calendar's swiftness, Harrison's comment resonates with wisdom lost on a lot of people. Maybe even his partner, Lennon. But who has not turned photo album pages and wondered: was I really that young? That thin? Healthy? Happy? Hopeful? Whose mind hasn't time‑warped back to incidents twenty, thirty, fifty years earlier and thought: It seems like last week?
Near the end of his life, Solomon discovered what many of us who are older try to convince those who are younger: Time passes quickly. Very quickly. So quickly, it is the source of worn clichés: Time flies. Where did the time go? In the nick of time.
But clichés cannot conceal the cold certainty that our calendar pages continue to drop like autumn leaves in a wind storm – and the time will come for each of us when our time runs out.
Former Beatle John Lennon wrote a song whose lyrics endure to this day. It is a tragic song. I consider the lyrics deceptive, even devilish, because they encourage the listener to imagine there is no heaven, or hell . . . and by implication, no God, no Jesus, no sin and no eternal judgment.
And then I remember Lennon’s partner, George Harrison. A year before his death at 58, Harrison remarked that the last forty years of his life passed so quickly, they seemed like the snap of his fingers.
To those who take time to consider the calendar's swiftness, Harrison's comment resonates with wisdom lost on a lot of people. Maybe even his partner, Lennon. But who has not turned photo album pages and wondered: was I really that young? That thin? Healthy? Happy? Hopeful? Whose mind hasn't time‑warped back to incidents twenty, thirty, fifty years earlier and thought: It seems like last week?
Near the end of his life, Solomon discovered what many of us who are older try to convince those who are younger: Time passes quickly. Very quickly. So quickly, it is the source of worn clichés: Time flies. Where did the time go? In the nick of time.
But clichés cannot conceal the cold certainty that our calendar pages continue to drop like autumn leaves in a wind storm – and the time will come for each of us when our time runs out.
When that happens, we will be glad to have remembered – and served ‑‑our Creator while we had the time, because there is a heaven. And a hell. And a judgment for those who have chosen to live as if those things are illusions of the imagination.
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