The end of a day is a sobering thing.
As I write this, I’m watching it happen out the window of a jet bound from Tampa, Florida to Chicago. Having risen at 4am—long before sunrise—in order to fly down to Tampa, I am now tired. Happy to kick back and do not much of anything.
But as I peered out the window of our 737, I saw the crowning tip of the sun in its last gasp of orange glory. The crest of the glowing ball is now out of view. I watched it slip away, pondering those last seconds of color and bombast. All that remains now is a fading backlit sky of near turquoise and burnt orange.
Seeing all this take place in real time has gotten me to thinking. This day—that has now turned into night—will never be repeated. Ever. Whatever moments that might have been—but weren’t—might never be…forever.
The extraordinary potential woven into the DNA strands of this day is now dimmed. I’m not trying to wax poetic here. I truly am sobered. Because…
Whatever I MIGHT have said for Jesus Christ today but did not…
Whatever I might have DONE for Jesus Christ but did not…
Whatever kindness I might have shown someone else for Christ’s sake but did not…
…Well let’s just say the opportunity for today has come and gone.
“But,” you say, “Jon, you’re being too hard on yourself.” Am I? You say, “There’s always tomorrow.” Yet Scripture says, “Boast not yourself of tomorrow, for you don’t know what a day will bring.”
Only one life
‘twill soon be past.
Only what’s done for Christ
Will last.
Darkness is now all that’s left in my window view from the 737.
One final reminder that the end of a day…is a sobering thing.