T.G.I.F.

When you get my age, life goes by so fast, it seems like everyday is Friday. If you do not have routine in your life, something is very wrong. Every morning, 5 am, I observe the lord's supper in my kitchen: small piece of bread, small sip of wine, thanking our blessed lord for sins forgiven and his healing through his strifes (Isaiah 53). I do not know how one survives this sin-disease cursed world, without this assurance. Every Friday night, I write down all the blessed activities of the week, and ask for help for the next week. This is my Friday routine.

During the Depression, a Kentucky school teacher, Fern Rives, wrote a book entitled, Friday, Thank God!, in the book she goes over all her activities involving students in the school for one week. We can understand why a teacher is glad for Friday to come, this little known writer, three books to her credit, probably never made very much money, and had little notoriety in life, but from the book title has come an epigram: “Thank God It's Friday” heard around the world every week. The author was older than me, but I well remember the activities at the end of the week. Saturday was the big day in any southern town, streets crowded with shoppers and visitors. Country people, working hard the entire week, “went” to town on Saturday. You could see them visiting friends up and down the streets. It was a time for love and laughter to and with one another.

Stores did a tremendous amount of business on Saturday, were open late on Saturday night, because to everyone, Friday and Saturday were payday. The American spirit was alive and well, new clothes for Sunday, food for the after-church spread. The people who worked hard during the week, on the farm, in the cotton mills, in the sawmills, in every area of activity for which they were paid, knew the joy of responsibility, earned pay, the thrill of accomplishment.

I am sorry to say that today's youth are glad to see Friday, Thank God It's Friday, but simply because they can escape the drudgery of the soft, spoiled life to which they have become accustomed, to spend the entire weekend in “party-mode”. Grown up males and females, who at one time were glad to have the commerce of the weekend, stores were always closed on Sunday in observance of Lord's day, are now found lounging at the golf course, the country club, the watering holes around town, sports events (watching millionaires play ball, or drive vehicles). Stores are now open on Sunday, Walmarts are crowded, the descendants of the parents and grandparents, who found comfort and inspiration at worship services on Sunday, gave them reason for living, assurance in dying, now are in the stores, shopping for things. Who needs God and church when there are some many things in the world to make us happy? Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. (1 John 2:15) Who needs God when the government has gobs of money, when the creature, not the creator can supply your every need?

I have a hankering for the good old days, but I tell every young person to enjoy every day. At best, we have been promised 3 score and 10 year, which would put most of us expecting to live to about the age of 70. Some of us may make 80 or more, if you are 75 and want 80, you have 1825 days left. If you have reached 70 you have 3650 days left until you reach 80. I am 79, I have 51 days left until my 80th birthday, if I were to “graduate” on my 80th birthday.

I have heard many ask the question, if you only had one day left, what would you do? If you were to be executed by government, your life taken away at a certain time on a certain day, the government would provide you with a chaplain, a last meal of your favorite food, and a chance to tell your loved ones good bye. The same government does not care whether you eat or not, cares nothing about your relationship with your relatives, is doing everything possible, with the help of a controlled news media, to destroy your spiritual relationship. You really do not know if you have behaved yourself, if you are not in the government's death row (we are all on death row, just what second, what minute, what day: last breath here, first breath there).

Live every minute as if it is your last, I can say with all sincerity, all assurance, that there is nothing whatsoever I would change or do if my last breath were today or tomorrow, or whenever. I can say with eternal security, I look forward to leaving any time, there is nothing I would change in my daily routine.

There is nothing I can do to make God love me any more. There is nothing I can do to make God love me any less. There is nothing I can do with the world, the flesh, the devil even relatives, neighbors, friends, that would cause them or God to love me more or less. God allowed Moses to live to the age of 120, he was still in good health, still had good eye sight, in fact, God allowed him to go up on a mountain and look over at the promised land, to which he would not allow him to go. One of the most wonderful chapters in the Bible is the 32nd chapter of Deuteronomy in which Moses described what would happen to the Jews in this world. God had talked directly to Moses, and there were no surprises. If you have the holy spirit of God in your life, there will be no surprises. What the justice of God demands for sin, the love of God provides in judgment.

I have been blessed to give many thousands of dollars in awards and scholarships, two awards go to outstanding pastors (2,500 dollars each) in honor of my great grandfather Elder P.T. Lucas who preached and pastored throughout eastern North Carolina. He was born in 1854, and died at age 58 in 1912. He was a father of 12 children, two died young, the others, including my grandmother were left nice estates. Can we even imagine a man, entirely on horse and buggy, no electric power lines anywhere, accomplishing what he did in wealth and Christian influence at that time in history. Just think what it was like, the destruction of the civil war, education facilities, the large farms which he owned. The responsibilities of raising that many children. He was bedridden for one year before his death, his funeral held in a large family church which he built...and we think we have a hard time, I even get sorry for my self cause I have been totally blind most of my life.

I doubt if any of our hard-working, taxpaying, patriotic, god-fearing ancestors complained about life, the day of the week, or anything else, most lived and died without ever having seen a hard surfaced road, telephone. They knew the loss of children to nefarious disease, theirs was a faith not only to live with but one to die by. Because thy loving kindness is better than life, my lips shall praise thee (Psalm 63:3)