Yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring—what your life will be! For you are like vapor that appears for a little while, then vanishes. —James 4:14
I love surprising. But I hate being surprised.
Normally, planning parties isn’t my thing. I’d rather drive a nail or sink a long putt than set up a punch bowl or stretch streamers across a room. But as my late wife and I approached our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I got an idea. I’ll surprise Bobbie with a party, I decided. I’ll fly the kids in and have it a few weeks before the actual date. She’ll never know. I had never been so motivated in my life. I loved planning this party. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on the punch bowl and stretch those crinkly streamers around the room. I love surprising.
Over the years, I have had many surprises happen to me. Some of these were supposed to be good—a party on my thirtieth birthday—and some weren’t intend- ed to make my day—a phone call on my forty-fourth birthday that announced the demise of my business. In both cases, I didn’t like the surprise at all—nope, not even my thirtieth birthday party.
My family and my business associates will tell you they’ve heard me say many times: “If you think you see something coming, tell me about it. Don’t surprise me.” I’m serious about this. I love surprising, but I hate surprises.
In Luke 12 we read a parable about a successful farmer. This farmer broke sales records year after year and spent his money like crazy, building more barns to house all his earnings. His neighbors were, frankly, surprised by all this success. This made the man even happier. He loved surprising.
Then one night, in the middle of his peaceful and prosperous sleep, the man took his last breath of fresh air. Fully expecting another day of productivity, this fool expired. He went to bed, tucked in serenely next to his wife, and woke up in the presence of a sovereign God whom he’d completely ignored. This man was not happy. He hated surprises, too.
Life features plenty of surprises. It has been and it will continue to be this way. I’m sure this is true for you as well. Surprises have been commonplace. Much of what has happened to you was not part of your original plan.
The apostle James has something to report to us: “Come now, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will travel to such and such a city and spend a year there and do business and make a profit.’ Yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring—what your life will be! For you are like vapor that appears for a little while, then vanishes” (vv. 13–14). Now you’re here. Now you’re gone. Poof, surprise!
Before you and I go to bed tonight, we ought to do something. We ought to brace ourselves like we do when a balloon is about to pop right in front of us. We may have a tomorrow, or we may not. We may have another birthday, or we may not. Clear up your broken relationships. Confess your foolishness (sin) to God and to people who need to hear from you. Tell your wife she’s amazing and hug your children until they let out that little grunting sound.
Our lives have been filled with surprises, and there are more just around the corner. We’d better get ready by doing right day after day.