God Issues Today: "To Predict is Difficult ..."

Author, educator and commentator Dr. James Denison has been pastor of Park Cities Baptist Church in Dallas, Texas since June, 1998. Prior to that, he was pastor at churches in Atlanta, Georgia, as well as Midland (at First Baptist) and Mansfield, Texas.

"To predict is difficult . . . especially with regard to the future." So goes the old Chinese saying. Last night we heard President Obama vow that America will recover from the current economic crisis. This prediction followed Ben Bernanke's statement that he expects to see an economic recovery by 2010. Wall Street had a very good day as a result, but no one really knows what will happen next. I assume that I'll finish writing this morning’s essay and that you'll finish reading it, but neither of us can be sure. We're both one day closer to eternity than we've ever been.

Such is the solemn reminder of Ash Wednesday. February 22 was Quinquagesima Sunday, marking 50 days before Easter. (I didn't know that five minutes ago, but a quick visit to the online Catholic Encyclopedia has made me more liturgically competent.) Today is the Wednesday after Quinquagesima Sunday, called dies cinerum ("day of ashes") or Ash Wednesday.

Those who worship in the Catholic tradition will go to Mass today, where their priest will dip his thumb into ashes made by burning the remains of palms blessed on last year's Palm Sunday. He will then mark the worshiper's forehead with the sign of the cross while saying, "Remember man that thou art dust and unto dust thou shalt return." This ceremony dates to at least the eighth century, and may be much older.

I don't really like thinking about my own mortality so early on a Wednesday morning. I'd rather be writing about something unusual or fun in the day's news. That's just why I need to observe Ash Wednesday—if not by attending a Catholic Mass, then by contemplating the message I would hear if I did. It is a simple fact that the hands which are typing these words on my laptop computer will some day type their last letters. My eyes will read their last words. I don't know that this is my last essay to write, but I don't know that it's not.

Yesterday I reread C. S. Lewis's classic sermon, The Weight of Glory. Near its end, Mr. Lewis observes: "There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations—these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit" (italics his). Every person you see today will outlive everything else you see today.

As will you. So order your life by eternity. The Westminster Catechism is right: "Man's chief end is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever." How will you do both today?