Good times gone

All good things come to an end. That’s what I’m told anyway. I’m not sure that statement is meant to make me feel better, so much as it is an attempt to bring me back to rational ground. Clearly, no one would tell me this unless I was mourning the loss of something. At best, this tragic adage helps me let go of good times gone, but the message carries no hope.

I am a man. I want to be a rock, my own foundation. I want to build an environment where I can be powerful and effective towards my goals. But I am a man—just a man. The higher I get the harder I fall, perpetually renting happiness; and just when I get comfortable my landlord kicks me out. I want to own some piece of happiness, cultivate it and secure it. I’ve paid my dues—I deserve it.

What a fool I am! What can I own when God has purchased my very soul from damnation? I am a servant to my divine author, and He calls me to be self-less. It is by submission to His mysterious and sometimes frightful, but entirely good will that I secure any measure of peace. Satan tries tirelessly to dissuade me, to make me a coward; but the Lord is my strength, and I am His soldier empowered by grace to fight for His glory.

My father in heaven loves me indeed, and it sorrows Him watching my vain struggle to secure fleeting happiness from worldly attachment.  So He blesses me with a blinding sight (blind now, sight later I hope).  His own purpose for me is far more spectacular than what I can now imagine.  If only I could see the full implications of His work!

In conclusion, good things do not end, for there is no goodness but our immortal God Himself. I will mourn the end of happy moments, but with new hope and excitement that God has entrusted me to bear a burden for his purpose. He blesses me with tastes of heaven, but doesn’t delude me into thinking I’ll get my fill just yet.  In this valley I trust and serve the Lord, my Savior, and I await good things to come.