As if it weren’t enough that a monumental solar eclipse is one week away, the world is abuzz with ominous predictions of a looming nuclear war with North Korea. None of us might live to unwrap our Christmas presents this year. We might all be blown to smithereens. We might all die in nasty, horrible ways. The world might end in one gigantic kaboom.
What in God’s name are we to do?
Me—I’m gonna make breakfast.
As a preamble, though, I’ll pour a cup of coffee for my wife, take it into the bedroom, and wake her up. I’ll kiss her Good Morning and whisper a prayer of thanks that God brought her into my life four years ago. We’ll relish these moments together of greeting a new day, the day the Lord has made.
We’ll rejoice and be glad in it—even if it is the Apocalypse.
Later, I’ll fry some bacon and eggs, then toast some bread, remembering that the Creator gave us pigs and chickens and wheat fields. He gave us farmers and ranchers and grocery store workers. He provided us with countless people to ensure that crops are grown, livestock are raised, and food ends up in our fridge. In other words, he gives us this day our daily bread. And he gives us family and friends to enjoy that daily bread with.
So, on this day when the world ends, I’ll savor the bacon, relish the eggs, butter my toast, and look into the faces of those I love, with whom I’m privileged to eat this final meal.
Then I’ll hit the road for work—provided the earth hasn’t melted into oblivion yet. I’ll say Hello to my coworkers, fire up the diesel engine in my truck, and drive around San Antonio making deliveries. I have customers to serve, after all.
@@Just because the world is ending doesn’t give me the right to shirk my duties.@@
By the time I clock out, if the earth is still in one piece, I’ll drive back home. My wife and I will pour a glass of red wine and talk about our day. We’ll laugh together at some joke one of her patients told her. I’ll complain about a traffic jam I was caught in. We’ll weave together the day’s stories—good and bad, uplifting and depressing—as we continue to mesh our lives of love together on this last day of the world.
@@How in God’s name are we to prepare for the end of the world?@@ C. S. Lewis has some good advice:
“If we are all going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it comes find us doing sensible and human things—praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts—not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our minds.” ("On Living in an Atomic Age")
In other words, if the end of the world is coming, just keep right on loving those whom God has placed in your life. Fry some bacon for your family. Go to work and serve your customers. Play a game with your children. Call your mom.
Corrie ten Boom once said, “There is no panic in Heaven.” She’s right, of course. @@You’ll never see Jesus wringing his hands over a tweet from Trump.@@ You’ll never see him break out in a cold sweat over Kim Jong-un or solar eclipses. The old spiritual is right, “He’s got the whole world in his hands….”
More importantly, those hands that cradle the world are scarred. And those scars from ancient Roman nails betoken love. The love of God in Jesus is our confidence when the world seems to teeter on the brink of self-destruction. If he loves us—which he does—then let us love one another, fully confident that whatever goes down, the love of God in Jesus won’t let us down.
We are safe and secure in the scars of Jesus. So, until the end of the world comes, I’ll keep on thanking God for family and friends, frying bacon, and fulfilling the duties of my vocation.
Won’t you do the same?