it’s almost 9am. it probably will be by the time i finish writing this. i say that to say this:
how much does time really matter? how does the way i live reveal what i think about time?
i wake up every morning unconsciously confident that i’ll make it through another day. but the frost covered tree outside my window, sitting in front of a deadly white sky, tells me that i’m living only by grace…i can’t be confident in my humanity. all i know for sure is that i want Jesus to come back ASAN (as soon as now) cuz i’m tired of waking up to the certainty of death.
a radio program just ended that talked about the death penalty. remember Dead Man Walking? the real nun was being interviewed. she’s very active in assisting death row victims’ families; the death of their loved one is often prolonged.
we’ll kill your son on june 3, 1996. oops. sorry. how about february 17, 2003? oh. nah, that won’t work; staff party. okay. january 28, 2005 for sure.
when they executed Timothy McVeigh, i said a prayer. i hoped maybe he’d repented. i thought about how fabulous it would be to see him in heaven. i know–my mind’s a bit weird at times. but honestly, that day reminded me that i’m not the final judge. but that he requested Invictus be read as his final words, made me think that repentance was far from his reality.
yet so many times my actions say that i am the master of my fate: i am the captain of my soul. what makes me different? what keeps me out of the execution chair?
hope. hope that despite today, tomorrow can be better. knowledge that at least one of my yesterdays was good. with that knowledge and hope, my normal skepticism gets pushed aside long enough for me to look at the frost covered tree sitting against a death white sky outside my window and see blue.
i won’t take a life to make a point. i’ll live mine.