Honest, we didn't mean to be in northern Kentucky on Kentucky Derby weekend - but obviously thousands of people did. In trying to avoid flooding as we traveled, that's exactly where we managed to be. So there we were in the middle of rampant Derby Fever. No, I didn't bet on anybody, and I refuse to wear one of those floppy hats.
The restaurant where we had dinner made sure the TV was on so everyone could watch the world's most famous horse race. High-stakes horsemanship, a drama-packed "run for the roses." Over in two minutes.
It actually is pretty amazing to watch. Those horses explode with raw power and give-it-all intensity, driving with everything they've got to win their race.
So should I. Like the original thoroughbred Jesus-man, Paul. In his final words of his final letter before he made he made the final sacrifice for Jesus, he said, "I am already being poured out...I have finished the race" (2 Timothy 4:6-7). Nothing left at the finish line. Just like his Master.
I've been thinking a lot lately about the fact God calls our life in Him a race. Not a jog. But a race to a finish line. Except we don't know how much longer we have before we reach it.
So it calls for thoroughbred intensity. Not casual, go-to-church, business-as-usual Christianity. Even if I live to be 108, there are so few days to make the eternity difference I was put here to make. No days to waste. No opportunities to miss. No "maybe later" for the "I love you"...the "thank you"...the "here am I, Lord"...the "let me tell you about my Jesus."
I'm making Moses' prayer my prayer: "Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom" (Psalm 90:12). Like Randy Alcorn says, "Thirty seconds after we die, we will know how we should have lived." How about getting that figured out now instead of then?
Because my finish line isn't a carpet of roses. It's Jesus. And the "well done" is the only prize that matters.