account

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock. Time, as inevitable as good things going bad, marches resolutely on. A quarter the way through my fortieth year, I am taking account. In all things, every situation, good, bad, and indifferent, I see one common rule that very closely resembles something Solomon penned in his book of Proverbs. It is this: In order to live peacefully with yourself and your place in this world, you must keep on top of things. You must work hard. There is no coasting through life and being proud of that accomplishment. There are no accomplishments if there is no striving, stretching, discipline, toil. That proverb says something about the drawbacks of apathy and laziness. There are no rewards for letting things roll by that need attention, and no real satisfaction for things done half-ass.

I know this. Ironically, I find myself longing for time in which to do nothing at all at this place in my alotted years. The passion and motivation for things I used to live for, creating, helping others, influencing, has seemed to have at least burned down, if not, out. I find that people who need my patience and gentle direction I become easily annoyed with in a short time span. I used to love being among people who desire to minister. Nowadays, I just look forward to being left alone with my wife and sons to enjoy whatever activities we wish to take part in. I think it very strange to feel this way. Why do I feel this way? Perhaps its just good old-fashioned burn-out (of hyphe-nated words).

As for my music, the fire and inspiration that used to leap into my head through my eyes and ears from every scene and experience must be gone fishing. And that's ironic, too, because that's exactly what I want to do! A huge chunk of all I want to do! Where I used to pine for time alone with a certain guitar and a pen and pad, now I long just for time to sit down. David, the Psalmist, wrote about "whilst I was musing by the fire..." That's it. That's what I want to do. Not for the rest of my life, but certainly for a good while! I seem to have nothing to say, no particular opinion to exposite any more. I think my dreams are asleep, and refuse to be roused. Maybe they have grown tired of waiting on me?

This is problematic for my future, because of the affect this could have on my sons. When I was a child my parents were able to push past whatever serious concerns they had about what the future may hold in order to model and excercise that great American optimism for us, their children. Presently, being a father, husband, etc., I realize that I do not have that kind of optimism about futures in America. I observe my sons listening to all the banter about the future of our nation, and working it all through in their minds. They are not dull, and can see the cause for alarm. This concern I carry is a burden they must shoulder already, and more so everyday as they mature and become. I wish I could say to them as my parents said to me, "No worries. This is America, and the right will prevail." I cannot say that to them because I do not believe it is true. Instead I am saying, "We may soon be experiencing some turbulence here, because we are strangers and aliens, not of this world, boys."

A quarter the way through my fortieth year, I see the deception of things I held as true, and the truth and immovability of things I highly doubted. When I was young, it felt as though everything remained the same and I longed for change. Now life moves at such a mind-numbing pace, everything is in constant transition, and I long for saner, quieter moments.

But in the midst of the chaos trying to swallow us all, I see a few threads that run, unscathed, through it all. They are behind the scenes; no, under the scenes. They are the eternal things. I remember my Dad used to speak of them in hushed tones. He would say, "Aubrey, the things that people are after, money, property, prominence, these things that you can touch with your hands and see with your eyes are but shadows and do not really exist. But the things you cannot see and touch, those will last forever."

At forty, I understand what these things, these threads are. They are love, faith, faithfulness, honesty, moral and ethical guts, compassion, meekness, diligence, discipline. And so I tell my sons, when I see that concern collecting in the corners of their eyes, to store up treasures in heaven. I tell them because that is the destiny of those who love God and who are called according to His purpose. And because where your treasure is your heart is. And where your heart is, you will be there, with it, forever. We all have some accounting to do. What will you really have when you get to the bottom line? In this accounting I conclude: I want it to be something that will last forever.