Borrowed Time

July 29, 2013

More than 6,000 in my country die each day –

But one out of these precious six-thousand today strikes closer to home.

Just a few months ago, a chest x-ray revealed a relentless cancer, spreading through his lungs; eating away at his body; and leaving him shocked, frustrated, and desperately fighting for life.

Clinical staff spoke of him in quiet tones, aware that the dying man was not emotionally prepared to breathe his last.

He arrived at the clinic – confined to a wheelchair pushed by a family member. Only his hollow coughs and the pumping of his oxygen tank broke the silence. He waited, face expressionless.

What can you say to a dying man?

“How are you doing, Fred?”

He looked up from his wheelchair with sad eyes as I led the way for the mournful procession into an exam room.

“Okay,” he paused. “I have no appetite. I can hardly taste anything anymore.”

As I took his vital signs, I glanced at his three relatives sitting by the side of the room. They shared quiet whispers as I worked.

What can you say to a dying loved one’s family?

“Have you been enjoying the summer weather?” As the words spilled from my mouth, I wondered why I even asked.

They shrugged, and glanced at each other. “I guess,” one replied.

Of course. Who would be enjoying the weather today when they knew a loved one would not be enjoying it with them tomorrow?

Wrapping a blood pressure cuff around his right arm, and placing the chest piece of a stethoscope, I listened to his heart’s steady rhythm.  In maybe a matter of days, this heartbeat will cease.

I paused before I left him, wishing that I could speak with him further, assure him of God’s faithfulness, and pray with him.

Before turning to leave, I softly placed my hand on his denim sleeve. “It was nice to see you again, Fred. I hope you have a good day.”

He nodded, looking up at me. “Thank you – and you too.”

I paused in the clinic hallway, closing the door behind me and trying to hold back a flood of emotions.

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It was the last look, the last interaction I would have with him in this world. I wonder what I could have done more to help him, and if the little that I did do made any difference to poor Fred.

My heart sank at the news of his death, and I wondered if he was prepared to die.

But oh friends…

Sin is a malignant poison, eating away at the souls of every creature. Humanity fights for life, desperate for love and peace, but so often turning away from its only Source.

The Lord never promised that our trail would not be marked with pain and tears as well as peace and joy. He never said that our hearts wouldn’t break and be broken again. But in this reality we find the beauty of His tender mercy – He does not promise to remove hardship and sorrow, but instead plants Himself by our side, to stand as our shield and support through every storm of life.

No pain is too great to overpower “the love that will not let me go.”

How do I dare to relax and enjoy the prospective “peace and safety” of today, when I know that precious souls lying in my pathway could spiritually (or physically) die tomorrow?

Waiting for a touch of love and compassion, yearning to know the peace that passes all understanding.

What is my life saying to this dying world of ours?

We’re living on borrowed time. More importantly, on God’s time. Are we living like it?

No Conditions

Her attitude was not unapproachable, but neither was it friendly and inviting. The elderly woman slowly rose from the wooden pew, straightening her back and gazing straight ahead. I noticed her short grey hair and gold rings dangling her ears, but more prominent was her aloof and crusty demeanor.
Rising from the piano bench with sheet music nestled under my arm, I approached the pew where the stranger stood. I could see that a visiting non-denominational family friend was eager to introduce us. It had been by her invitation that this new visitor made an appearance at my quaint country church.
"Are you coming to potluck?" I pressed an invitation.
The older lady tugged at the handle of her pocketbook. "Oh, I don't know."
"Are you sure? The food is really good," Mrs. Fontaine, my friend added.
"I really hope you can come," I urged with a smile.
The older woman consented. "Alright."
Church members had slowly wandered downstairs to the fellowship hall where busy cooks had been setting out quinoa salad and heating plates of roasted vegetables, baked beans, and casseroles.
I led the way and stood next to my new "friend" in line. I sensed her lingering aloofness as I urged her to join the potluck line, making efforts to draw her into conversation. If I could only reach through this crustiness and show her that I care,” I thought to myself. To help her to see that this warmness in my heart is real, and no pretense.
I led her to a chair and sat next to her at the long table. To my delight, she slowly softened and the conversation grew pleasant as she asked me questions about homeschooling, my family, and my life.
I was blessed by inviting a stranger to potluck and in getting to know her. She lingered after the meal, interacting with church members and smiling.
I gave her hug before she left. "Please come and visit us again - we would love to have you back."
"Thank you," she nodded. "It was very nice meeting you."
Mrs. Fontaine left to drop the visitor off at her home a mile from the church, and returned to share a story with us.

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"Why don't you?"
"I will not step foot in a Seventh-Day Adventist church."
She hung up the phone, adamant in spite of the petition. Although her brother wasn't a member, he worshiped with an Adventist congregation and found true fellowship and biblical preaching there. Faithfully he prayed that she would step out in faith and attend an Adventist church, even though he knew her answer was firm.
Mrs. Fontaine was a relative, and she invited her to attend a local church. "A thirteen-year-old is preaching, and the Cosgrove girls will have special music. You should come! I will pick you up at your house."
On Saturday morning as Mrs. Fontaine's car pulled into the church parking lot, the visitor with her could not hide her astonishment. She hesitated, half laughed, and spoke in one breath, "I can't believe this." How did you know? Why did you bring me here? What are we doing here?
"We're here, so let's go inside."
Thus, the two ladies stepped into our small Seventh-Day Adventist church - and for one of them, it was the first time.

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Months later, my visitor friend has stepped across the threshold of an Adventist Church for the third time. gives when the offering plate is passed to her pew….
She listens as a benefit concert for my sister’s Youth For Jesus trip, and she gives...

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And now as I sit here, I wonder….

How many times am I content to leave friend, a stranger?

How often do I rob others of the blessing of sharing fellowship, and giving to further God’s work, by my lack of open-armed welcome?

How many blessings have I missed by neglecting to love enough, neglecting to embrace the unlovely?

I think I can understand now why His mission is accomplished when we love the world as He did.

This is the love that seeks out the lost child who was found by “another master.” Breaks the chains of bitterness, and melts the hearts of stone.

It is so easy to love the lovable. I think that I’m a loving person when I love those who love me. But what if our love for God is only measured by how much we love those we love the least? What if God’s estimation of our love for Him is only so much as we love the most naturally repulsive to us?

"Love to man is the earthward manifestation of the love of God. It was to implant this love, to make us children of one family, that the King of glory, became one with us. And when His parting words are fulfilled, “Love one another, as I have loved you” (John 15:12); when we love the world as He has loved it, then for us His mission is accomplished. We are fitted for heaven; for we have heaven in our hearts." DA, pg. 641

He made the greatest sacrifice that love could make. He loved the world with His life, with His death, and ultimately – eternity.

Love has no conditions in the heart of God. It only gives and lives that it may continue to be shared and lived through the lives of others. If every single soul on this planet rejected His voice, He would still love.

If we can embrace the world – every stranger, every lonely heart, every soul thirsting for a touch, for the opportunity to give….

Only then, we have begun to know this love.

When God Says No

"May I ask what kind of novels this class requires students to read? Could I have some examples?"

She nodded. "Of course."

Lightly tapping my fingers on the wooden table, my eyes gazed into the cool gray ones of the college advisor. She tucked a stray wisp of curly blond hair behind her ear and leaned back into her office chair.

My mother sat nearby, jotting down book titles on notepaper. My college advisor began listing titles, highlighting storylines that I had never before heard of. Nevertheless, we proceeded to sign up for classes. (This particular class - though it had nothing to do with my degree - was mandatory.)

God's leading seemed so clear and distinct. I had finally decided on what I wanted to do, and a community college had recently established the program I was interested in. The enrolling process had progressed smoothly, and everything apparently fit into place. With excitement I looked forward to learning new things and being a witness in new territory.

Clutching a list of classes in hand, I skipped up to the door of our family's log cabin with exciting news about progressing college plans. It wasn't long before I took out my laptop and searched the sample book titles on the internet, scanning over Wikipedia summaries with a friend.

Time almost stood still. I can't read this. Foul language, immoral elements, murder and bloodshed, violence. There was no doubt in my mind that I couldn't fill my mind with such filth, much less analyze and discuss it with detail in the classroom.

Praying for wisdom, I picked up my phone to dial Kate, my college advisor.

"May I have a religious exemption? Each of the novel examples you listed contained material with bad language, violence, and immorality. As a Christian, I can't fill my mind with these things."

She paused. "I can ask the dean about this, but it may take me a week or so to get back to you. However, I would like to mention that considering issues outside of your worldview can be extremely beneficial. A lot of things can be learned by embracing the world with an open mind. The same issues you find in the selected reading, you will find in today's society."

I listened as she continued.

"I strongly suggest that you should take this class. You will face many of the issues discussed during the course of your life, and it could be very beneficial to you in the long run. You can always step out of the room when the class discusses a sensitive issue to you," she suggested, and then added with a hint of warning, "Just so long as you're willing to face the consequences for it."

"Thank you," I told her. "I understand what you're saying. I'm not afraid to face these issues, but I can't consciously fill my mind with them, as a Christian. I would still appreciate it if you could share my request for the religious exemption."

Anxiously I awaited a reply. Second thoughts about my career, my school of choice, and the years ahead affected by this decision glazed through my mind. I hoped that the requested exemption would be granted so that I could attend this school, but hesitated to wonder if this had been God's plan after all.

I received the phone call. The matter had been discussed, and I had to decide between taking this class - or not attending the college period. As this door firmly shut with a resounding thud, I wondered and waited.

This event marked the beginning of a long pathway of considering different options and researching one online program after another only to move on. Finally we were led to Allied Health Institute based in Florida. It offered the same degree in Medical Assisting that I had planned on taking from the community college. It was difficult to contain my excitement on the day my school started. It didn't begin walking down the echoing hallway of my community college, but at my computer in my bedroom.

7 months later, I am satisfied. This is what He wanted. Even though it wasn't what I was looking for at first, this program gave me the opportunity to stay at home everyday and keep up the practical skills of life interspersed with studying. It is preparing me to become a certified medical assistant when the winds of change shift into crisp fall breezes.

Tracing back over the past few years, many events have taken place where I had been convinced that God was leading. He was - but so often, not in the way or direction I expected, and even hoped. Future years hold many things in store, but I'm aware that His leading will often result in dreams maybe far different than mine.



But when God says "no," I can cherish the trust that He knows better than this human heart. Why is it so easy to distrust Him Who sees all things, when I myself am blind? How can my heart ever think that He doesn't understand, when my own heart is cold and numb, but His has felt all of the pain of sin for me.

When God says "no," His children can be assured that He has something better in store. When the doors close with a resounding echo that strikes at the core of our heart, we can trust His to know better.

Fallen Soldier

“I don’t want to live that life anymore.” His tone was firm, his piercingly blue eyes resolute. As our dusty vehicle wound through the snow laden countryside, I marveled at his dramatic testimony and complete heart change.

With surprise and delight I had heard of our family friend’s conversion to the truth, but it was wonderful to see it for myself. The parties, secular lifestyle, violent video games, worldly films, and rock music had been eagerly laid aside and exchanged for earnest Bible study, humble prayer, and a passion for serving God. I could sense his enthusiasm and joy, and it was evident that he longed for the purity of heaven to rest in his heart.

He traced through the past months, the long years. “That life has no appeal now,” he expressed to me firmly. “I was living an existence only for myself and found no fulfillment or peace. You can be glad that you were never caught up in the ungodly teenage dating scene - for I was. It was so cheap and a such a waste of time.” His gaze drifted to the grimy snowdrifts, clogged with stones and dirt from the edge of the road nearby. Except for faint dialogue between our mothers in the front seat and the gentle whirring of the car engine, everything was quiet.

Slightly pausing, he turned to me. “What I have now is something that I cannot bear to lose. I don’t want to live that life anymore, and never will I return to it again.”

The chilly winds of spring melted into the warmth of glowing summer sunshine. Months later I saw him again, and he greeted me with the same broad grin and enthusiasm I appreciated before. He had brought a young lady with him, and she pleasantly shook my hand with a sweet smile. As we joined friends and family for Friday night vespers, she looked up at him apprehensively, hoping that his mother would approve of her.

Although she was a nice girl, I worried because she did not believe what he did or possess similar convictions. But hopeful and eagerly, he shared his faith and engaged in Bible studies with his girlfriend. Together they attended a small and peaceful Adventist church every Sabbath, and I was sure his most heartfelt prayers were for her to experience his faith and change of life.

I can say little about the months that followed. Seasons brought change, and winter snows melted again to welcome the delicate beauty of spring in New England. But a trace of sadness stained a happy day when I heard that a strong soldier was slipping away. His family and friends detected a marked change in the young man resulting from the influence of his girlfriend. His humble, yielding nature desired to please her.

Slowly they stopped attending church, and their boundaries as a dating couple were dropped, one-by-one. Because of her influence, they attended a prom together and danced. She began to share her beliefs with him, and he was swayed to change his own.

As I quickly scrolled down the page of a social networking site one Friday afternoon, I stopped to read one of his posts. The language he used astonished me. Did he really write that? How could this be real? His enthusiasm for the truth was so firmly stamped in my memory that I hardly separate it from the person he was now. As I slowly realized just how much he had dramatically changed, a prayer caught at the back of my throat and weighed deeply on my heart.

No matter how calmly or cautiously one shuffles down the slippery slope, they will slip. Yielding to temptation in any form however sweet, will tear down your armor. It may come to you in the form of a lovely girl, or a charming guy, but one that does not share your faith or conviction will only add to a constant struggle for those who want to stand firm.

A soldier of the cross was meant to fight, and God’s strength was there for him to stand all along. Again I was reminded that the strength of a true soldier is determined, not by how many risks he can take before he falls, but how strong he is to resist initial temptation when it comes. If Eve had remained at Adam’s side, together they could have successfully turned from the enticements of the enemy and remained obedient to the Father. If we cling to the right and continue to resist every onset of temptation, nothing can draw us from the Lord’s side.

My friend sacrificed his passion for the truth and resolve to remain separate from the world for his girlfriend’s sake, and heaven weeps to watch him turn away. Is yielding to the very thought of temptation worth risking so much?

...please pray for heaven's fallen soldiers.

The afternoon sun gleamed upon my beloved Vermont hills, bathing them with a warm glow. Buried deep in the pages of the Desire of Ages, I paused to ponder a meaningful chapter. Closing my eyes, I could imagine the scene….



Gleaming coins fall with a demanding clatter, lining treasure chests with abundant wealth. Many individuals clearly delight to pour generous offerings into the treasury as onlookers stare with mixed amazement and admiration.

Hesitating timidly, a poor widow approaches the place of offering. She shrinks back. Comparing her gift with what the rich offer only makes her sorrowful that this is all she has to give. What difference will two mites make, buried by and lost amid the other contributions?

Aware that she may be going hungry tonight, she hurriedly throws her gift in and turns to leave. But the tender gaze of Jesus stops her. Soft tears pool in her eyes as His words touch her heart with an unspeakable warmness.

“Of a truth I say unto you, that this poor widow hath cast in more than they all.”




I am convinced that if she had more, she would have given it.

A heart of faith and love was the priceless treasure God desired above all else. Inspiration tells us: “Her heart went with her gift.” She gave all that she had.

The Savior had watched quietly. Little did the givers know that He was acquainted with every single coin they had ever possessed. Their ulterior motives accompanied a half-hearted gift. All they offered Lord was a good deal of silver, brass, and copper.

Yet a widow’s mere two pence was worth more than everything the others had offered, because it was her all.

God looks not so much at the quantity compared to others, but at the percentage. Have you given Him your everything? Out of all the wealth in the world, there is nothing God considers so precious as the entirely devoted heart.

Unseen

"Johnny, do you want to take a ride down the driveway in my wagon?"

The little face lit up in a grin. I tucked a basket through my arm and began to skip down the graveled driveway, steadying the wagon with its precious cargo behind me.

Nothing was extraordinary about the day. The gray sky was rimmed with looming clouds, heavy with rain and threatening to shower. The woods surrounding us were silent without so much as a chirp of a bird or the rustling of a leaf, and the air was motionless and still with the damp smell of late summer.

As I pressed forward to the meadow, an uneasy and restless feeling slowly grew inside of me until I became nervous. Endeavoring to reason away this strange and un-called for impression, I continued to pluck berries from leafy bushes lining along the driveway and placing them in my basket.

But just because I feel a bit edgy doesn’t mean anything, I told myself. Wandering through small thickets of brambles and clumps of persistent weeds, I stooped to find luscious blackberries under the dark green leaves of bushes partly hidden by tall weathered grass. Jonathan, still sitting in the wagon was not far away, playing with a wildflower he was saving for Mamma.

Maybe you should return back to the house. Feeling unsettled, I realized that this impression was becoming too hard to ignore. Just a few more berries… I told myself. And then we’ll go home.

I leaned forward, nearing the tree line with my back turned to Jonathan, intently reaching for the object of my gaze.

Suddenly a feeling of dread and apprehension intensified to such a level that I leapt out of the area with a cold fear that startled me. Any doubts that I had previously entertained, disappeared into thin air in the space of seconds. With no hesitation now, I tore through the short brush with a prayer for safety and strength on my lips.

My heart pounding, I dared not look behind me as I ran, pulling the wagon as Jonathan clutched his flower and the wheels rattled. I would feel no sense of safety until I and my little brother reached the house.

To this day, I do not know why such a feeling was impressed upon me, except that there was danger. I could only reason that God saw something that I did not, and instead of removing that danger, He called me to run from it.

Friends, don’t wait for temptation to be removed from your life - flee from it. The enemy seeks only to leave us lost and void of hope, crushed in his hands by the bonds of sin.

Our frail human reasoning cannot be compared with that of the divine. Resisting His voice - even if we don’t understand or can’t explain His commands - will only result in our loss, and His sorrow.

And when you cannot detect the slightest hint of danger on the horizon, do you trust God’s eyes to see it for you?

Chapter Five...

People gathered in the living room, quietly chatting together as the light from the fading sun spread streaks of evening beauty through-out the midsummer sky. Songbooks were passed around the circle, and someone chose a favorite. As Anthony played his guitar nearby, I sat on my aunt’s old wooden piano bench and watched the faces around me.

The children wiggled in eager anticipation for the weekend ahead, while the mothers rested from their daily labor. A young man brought his young non-Adventist girlfriend to open the Sabbath with us, and a middle-aged couple who had faced their share of hardship and loss in their lifetime sat nearby.

After we knelt for prayer and asked God for a blessing from His Word, Pastor Nathan began to tell a story of a missionary sleeping on a ship who was being vehemently shaken awake by a desperate sailor. He was asked to pray to His God, lest they all be victims to the violent elements of a tempest.

This man knew that God was displeased with him. He had disobeyed and not been content to rest in the center of his Lord’s will, and in an act that could have been suicide, anger, despair, or all three, he ordered the sailors to throw him overboard.

In a short while, we realized that Pastor Nathan was re-telling a story that we all knew well - the tale of the prophet Jonah who ran away from God. But in reality, many of us had but skimmed the surface of a much deeper meaning hidden beyond mere words in this small book. We realized that the story of Jonah’s experiences closely resembled our lives, in some way or another.

Why do you think that the book of Jonah ends with God asking a question? our friend asked us. His gaze swept the room, and then he continued. “Because this story is your story…

“Ask yourself where you are in the tale of Jonah. Maybe you are hearing God calling, and are wondering whether you should choose His plan for your life, or run in the opposite direction. Maybe you have taken the boat to Tarsus and a sailor is shaking your shoulder, waking you up to reality. Maybe you have just been spit upon the seashore in a daze, and now your eyes are turned towards Nineveh and the mission that God has called you to accomplish. Whatever the case, the story of Jonah is your story.

“Jonah chapter five remains yet to be written. How are you going to write it? Are you going to continually choose Jesus in your daily walk, or will you follow after selfishness? What will the rest of the story be….” A hush rested in the room.

“When I get to heaven, I will ask you how it was written. And I look forward to hearing how you wrote chapter 5.”

Growing up, I had little concept of how infinitely precious time was. It was hard for me to comprehend that one day I would be a teenager or learn how to keep a home. I knew what I wanted to be someday, and envisioned myself living an adventurous life full of victory for God, but those future years seemed so distant, so far away.

But as I sat in my aunt’s living room in late July of 2011, surrounded by my friends, family, and church members, I realized that the years had flown by, and I was soon to reach a turning point in my life. It was only a matter of time when everything I had learned in my home would be put to practice - and to the test. No longer did I have years ahead of me to cultivate being faithful, diligent, meek and gentle at heart in this my present situation. If I did not know how to thoroughly put my trust and faith in God now, I would be thrown into life without the stable, abiding hope that would last despite hard times which were sure to come. In God’s Word, I needed to be completely educated. With His Spirit, I needed to be entirely transformed.

Upon the ledger of heaven, someday I would surely see the story of my life written out as only an angel can. What if I read it, and found that I could have done more to share the gospel than I did? Would I shed tears of regret for moments that I spent in idleness which I could have used for the Master’s sake?

The reality of the life that lay ahead me, still fresh and new in youthfulness, touched my heart that summer night. Stubbornness to my own ideas of life would only hinder my way, and pride would destroy it’s blessing on others. The time God would grant me in the future would attest one day to my faithfulness to follow His dreams - not my own.

Oh Christian, tread carefully as you walk this narrow path. We cannot go back and erase the past, so let us move forward with Christ’s strength lest we ruin the future and end up with a chapter five that is not worth writing. We have only one, single life to live. As each moment ticks past, we cannot unravel time, and we cannot change it. Whether your story will be one of entire victory and surrender completely to our Lord, or if it’s not as beautiful as you know it could have been had you proved entirely faithful, will be determined by your decision.