I hope you live to tell about it

Last night, I went to sleep tired.

Since I've had a few weeks off work before starting my new job, I've been taking it easy. I've spent my days reading, writing, relaxing, and spending quality time with my husband - things I haven't had time to do for a long time.

Oh, and I answer my cell phone a lot more, too. (I have a bit of a reputation.)

Needless to say, I haven't been very tired lately. Not emotionally, physically, or even sleepy. I haven't done anything disciplined, consistent, or stressful. I've resesarched new projects I'm working on, done some homework, washed dishes. Normal things for me. But when you sleep until 11am and watch an episode of Teen Mom in between each chore you do, your day is not very productive. Or tiring.

Yesterday was my first busy day since I quit my job. I went bridesmaids dress shopping with one of my best friends, and afterwards, we went out for lunch. We drank martinis, ate delicious food, and shared stories about life and love and work. My brother visited me and my husband, and we all went out and watched the Pitt game. And all day I thought to myself, I have read about this feeling. This joy and contentment. This seizing of moments and time.

Ah, yes. This is exactly what Solomon was talking about.

Seize life! Eat bread with gusto,
Drink wine with a robust heart.
Oh yes—God takes pleasure in your pleasure!
Dress festively every morning.
Don't skimp on colors and scarves.
Relish life with the spouse you love
Each and every day of your precarious life.
Each day is God's gift. It's all you get in exchange
For the hard work of staying alive.
Make the most of each one!
Whatever turns up, grab it and do it. And heartily!
This is your last and only chance at it,
For there's neither work to do nor thoughts to think
In the company of the dead, where you're most certainly headed.
-Ecclesiasties 9:7-10 (The Message)


But there is a reality here that I like to ignore. Living comes with dying.

Eventually, there won't be another day to procrastinate away your ambition. There won't be time to develop ideas for thrift stores and social programs. There won't be time to dream of opening music venues and coffee shops. There won't be a next week's paycheck to tithe or a different day to say you'll serve. There won't be time to talk about the things we really wanted to do.

Eventually, I will die. And so will you.

When I get to heaven, I want to have stories to tell. When I sit at His grand table with the disciples. The forgiven. The faithful. After I die, I want to live to tell about it. My life before that was never really mine. I want to join the conversation about the times I was faithful and opened myself to the beauty God had for me in life on earth. I want to talk about the fear that accompanied that faithfulness. I bet they'll pass me the bread and share a similar stories. I want to talk about the risks taken for His Kingdom come, and how He carried us and gave us ideas and desires. I want to see their scars that reflect His. I want to have similar scars to show. I want to kiss His feet and sob and sing when He offers me wine.

When I get to the table, I want to be relieved because I'm exhausted, not disappointed because there was so much more I wanted to do.

You know that sigh of relief you felt when you finally finished the mile run your teacher made you do in gym class in middle school? It was long and tiring, (and you knew you had to look stupid in your Umbro shorts and baggy t-shirt), but you felt so good when you accomplished it, because secretly, you thought you wouldn't make it? I hope to feel a little something like that.

When you're sitting home watching Teen Mom and washing a dish or two, you will not go to bed tired. You won't take any risks, and you won't read your Bible for hours like your told yourself you would "if only you had the time". When all is said or unsaid, done or never started, I hope you're tired.

I hope when I die, I live to tell about it. And I hope you'll be there to pass the bread.