It's almost here.
Weekends are hard for me lately. I love being able to sleep whenever I want, but I feel aimless and sad sometimes.
I'm sure the world has something to do with it. I'm one of those kooks who believes Jesus will return in my lifetime. Not last Saturday, obviously, but the Bible seems pretty clear that one of these days, Jesus will come back (I'm also one of those kooks who believes the Bible is accurate and reliable both as a historical resource and a prophetic utterance. I know. Really weird).
Anyway, as I look around, trying to "see the signs" as Jesus tells us in Matthew 24 and Mark 14, I wonder just how much longer any of us will be here. Being a naturally melancholy and apathetic personality, I wrongly go to the "what's any of it matter, then?" side of the argument and go back to bed.
Douglas Adams would be proud.
What I should do is grab my Bible and walk the neighborhood telling people about the saving grace of Jesus Christ. But I'm just not that kooky yet. Besides, I hate being stared at.
Numerous times in the last year, I've muttered to God, "I don't want to see the end of the world." I'm reminded of that scene between Frodo and Gandalf in The Fellowship of the Ring. You know the one.
"I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened," says Frodo.
"So do all who live to see such times," says Gandalf, "but that is not for them to decide. All you have to decide is what to do with the time that is left to you."
That is the decision. It's really the only decision I ever have.
Teach me to count the days, Lord, and to make the days count.