Don't Wait

by Charles R. Swindoll at crosswalk.com

2 Corinthians 6:1-10

Remember me? I'm the guy who promotes waiting. Allowing the Lord to open the doors, clear the way, smooth the path, shove you through. You know, all the stuff you expect a preacher to say.

But I do think we can get so good at waiting that we never act. We yawn and passively mutter, "Maybe, someday" as we let opportunities slip away. Like having friends over for ice cream or going on a picnic. Like using the fine china or celebrating a birthday . . . or slipping away for a weekend of relaxation and romance . . . or sailing for a day . . . or spending a week away with the family. "Not this year . . . but maybe, someday . . ."

Don't wait! If you continue such passivity, someday will never come—and you'll regret it for the rest of your days. I realized this anew when I read the following in the Los Angeles Times. Ann Wells writes:

My brother-in-law opened the bottom drawer of my sister's bureau and lifted out a tissue-wrapped package. . . . He discarded the tissue and handed me the slip. It was exquisite; silk, handmade and trimmed with a cobweb of lace. The price tag with an astronomical figure on it was still attached.

"Jan bought this the first time we went to New York, at least eight or nine years ago. She never wore it. She was saving it for a special occasion. Well, I guess this is the occasion."

He took the slip from me and put it on the bed with the other clothes we were taking to the mortician. His hands lingered on the soft material for a moment, then he slammed the drawer shut and turned to me.

"Don't ever save anything for a special occasion. Every day you are alive is a special occasion."

I remembered those words through the funeral and the days that followed when I helped him and my niece attend to all the sad chores that follow an unexpected death. . . .

I'm still thinking about his words, and they've changed my life. . . . I'm not "saving" anything; we use our good china and crystal for every special event—such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, the first camellia blossom. . . .

"Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary. If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, l want to see and hear and do it now. . . . I'm trying hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives. And every morning when I open my eyes I tell myself that it is special.¹

Every day is that special day you've been waiting for. Seize it!