So I was trying to study today (as I do almost every day -- the "try" part, I mean, but not necessarily to exclude the actual act of studying), but despite having set aside every tangible distraction and having isolated myself with my academic texts in a small, plain, rectangular study room accompanied by naught but a table and chairs, I found it absolutely impossible to focus. Though my outward eyes had nothing stimulating to turn to, my contemplative mind made up for their emptiness in a gazillion anxious thoughts about... SUMMER BREAK!!! Ah, it stands four weeks away from me. So close, yet so far. And I thought the end of high school would be the last time I would find myself considering such a paradox. What a lie. With that, I recalled how I had dealt with this difficulty in past years. With the prospect of a temporary, three-month liberation close at hand, it had always been a motivating factor, driving me to push through the final weeks of academic torture with my greatest diligence and most expending effort, knowing that salvation and rest were near in coming. Then I wondered if elderly Christians feel the same way. As I do consider myself to be a disciple of Christ, I believe that this life here on earth is temporary and fleeting. I personally was at a time separated from my Maker who from the start I had natural reason to love, thank, and obey -- in essence, to worship. But I screwed it up. When my Maker told me not to lie, not to covet, not to lust, I decided I didn't care about what He told me to do. I wanted to do things my own way and forge my own destiny. And as the completely perfect and holy being who my Maker is, in His own perfect nature He could not tolerate coexistence with my iniquities, and the natural consequence of them was death. My death. My eternal death. I was dead. And there was nothing I could do about it. But for no other reason than His stubborn, irrational love for me, He gave His own son's life for a nobody's life. For a slave's life. For a rebel's life. For my life. I don't know of any other masters who would give their lives for their runaway slaves. But now, through the gracious sacrifice of my Master, our relationship has been reconciled. He's shown me that He is more than just my Maker and my Master, but also my Hope, my Deliverer, my Friend, my King. He's my God. I daily rejoice that our relationship is assuredly unbreakable and that we will forever be in bliss together. He waits for me, His beloved slave, to enter eternity in His presence. But not yet. This "good news", the gospel message, about what God has done for me is not meant to be kept to myself. It needs to get out there. It needs to reach the ears of everyone out there who hasn't heard it yet. It needs to capture the attention of everyone's who distracted by the pursuit of things that are passing away and that don't mean diddly squat in eternity. And how's it supposed to get out there? God chose me. And all His other useless slaves. No pressure. And that's essentially the reason why I'm still here on earth. Yeah, that's it. That's it. Now if only it happened that simply. Not everyone is so ready to listen to what you have to say. And naturally, you can't really blame them. Really, who wants to admit to being a useless slave with an entire lifetime purposed to telling others that they're also useless slaves? It's much more attractive to think that you can create your own paradise with your own success accomplished by your own hard work done by your own two hands. Too bad that's a lie. But again, no one is going to swallow that because I said so. So if people won't listen to my words, I'll just have to show them through my actions. I'm going to set myself apart from what the rest of the world says is good. I'm not going to pursue respect or wealth or attention. I already have everything that matters from God. Then when I'm distinct from everyone else, they'll see me. I'm going to love the way that I've been loved: proactively, ungrudgingly, unceasingly. Then when I love them, they'll listen to me. Then when I share the gospel, the rest is between them and God. But most of all, I'll do all of that with great and exceeding joy (which, as opposed to happiness, is constant) in light of what God has already done for me. Now if only it were that easy. Despite being redeemed and reconciled with God, I'm still living in the exact same physical body and life that I was living before I was saved. I still have an innate desire to violate the basic principles that God gave me for my own good and do the very thing that started this whole mess in the first place. By His continued grace, He will forgive me again and again, over and over, but that doesn't make it acceptable. Sin grieves the heart of God and I am repulsed by it. And when I'm not, I'm even more repulsed that I would be so wicked as to take so much away from God, my Friend, and yet still tolerate the very thing He hates. So I seek accountability. I ask other brothers who share this same frustration in their own relationships with God to encourage me, support me, and spur me to goodness while I do the same for them. But the reality is that they're human too and they can't be around me 24/7. As I daily rejoice in my relationship with God, I am also striving against the desires of my own flesh. This I will do for every day of my life on earth. Every. Stinkin'. Day. Of course, there are good days and bad days, good times and bad times. I'm blessed when someone who's been going to church for his whole life finally understands the gospel for the first time in college. I'm sorrowful when someone rejects the gospel and dies in a car accident the next day. But even though every day poses its unique challenges and even though life is hard, I know I'm not exerting myself for nothing and I know I won't be doing this forever. I'm always mindful of the bigger picture, the bigger goal, the bigger prize once I finally and sweetly die: eternal rest and holy communion with my Lover. And that's why I wondered if elderly Christians feel the same way. (Get it?) I hope that when I'm elderly, I will. | 
