You can't take it with you

So I was at Dave & Buster's recently, yesterday in fact, with some friends of mine I hadn't seen in awhile. After chowing down on some savory dinner, we got down to the important part: the games.

If you haven't been to Dave & Buster's before, it's somewhat difficult to describe, except to say that it's kind of like a Chuck E Cheese except it's not weird for adults to play too.  The objective in many of the games is to amass tickets, and you can exchange tickets for prizes when you're finished. The more valuable the prize, the more tickets it costs; for example an Xbox game could be 10,000 tickets while a D&B branded mug might cost 400 tickets. In my nerdiness, I tried to figure out the approximate dollar value of a ticket and the expected return for each game I played but that's neither here nor there.

As I perused the store after winning exactly 1111 tickets, including a 500-ticket jackpot I hit on my final play (see photo), I realized I wouldn't have a use for most of the stuff I could redeem my tickets for anyway.  And I didn't plan on coming back - at least not for a very long time - so I couldn't really take my tickets with me.

At that point it occurred to me that this is very much like how money is in the world; in my world, at least, I should say.  As I focused on gaining as many tickets as I could, I surely missed out on some bonding opportunities with these friends I don't see too often. And when I left the arcade, it's not like I could take the tickets with me in any meaningful way.

In the same way I imagine pursing a career as my first priority, and marginalizing my family and friends, would ultimately leave me unfulfilled.  Sure, I may end up with a lot of cold, hard cash, or "tickets," and maybe a slick car and a big house, or "prizes," but if I spend all my time in the proverbial arcade of life chasing after things that will ultimately have no value to me when I die, what good is it?

If, however, I had focused my time getting to know my friends better instead of piling up stacks of tickets, maybe I'd have made a bigger impact on their lives instead of walking out with some silly trinkets.

So perhaps if I spend more time developing relationships and making a positive impact in peoples' lives than worrying about my job and finances, I'd not only feel fulfilled but actually make a difference.

Those tickets ultimately end up in a shredder, and the trinkets in the trash.

I couldn't take them with me, and I won't be able to take the "real" ones with me either.

Neither will you.

The End

So it's December 21, 2012.

Actually, it's early morning on the 22nd by now in the eastern reaches of the globe.

And the world's still here.

The verse I shared with friends days before May 23, 2011, Harold Camping's prediction of the End by adding and multiplying several unrelated numbers in the Bible, still applies today:

“But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, but My Father only."

Synoptically stated in both Matthew 24:36 and Mark 13:32.

So even though Camping is supposedly a Christian, he evidently didn't take the Bible too seriously.

The Mayans, on the other hand, weren't even trying to predict anything; they just thought planning out their calendar a couple of thousand years would be enough to suit their purposes. They most likely figured they would have ample time to update but were unfortunately too busy finding themselves on the wrong side of a certain clash of civilizations with the Spaniards to be bothered to edit their calendar.

That said, the question remains: what if today was the "last day?"

What would I do, how would I act?

Well, Paul certainly lived as if the end were near (see Philippians 4:5) - he even told people not to get married partially with this in mind.  He spread the Gospel and went through untold amounts of pain and hardship, knowing that Jesus could come back at any moment.

So do I live my life the same way?

Ashamedly, no.

My close friend made the apt point that if the world was ending tomorrow (or today) it shouldn't change the way we live our lives as Christians; we should always be sharing the Gospel with the expectation that Jesus' return is imminent.

So although I do share my faith with others from time to time, typically in a dialogue whereby I listen to them describe their beliefs first and foremost, this should serve as a reminder to me to do so more often and with a greater sense of the gravity of such conversations.  I invited a friend to church this week as a matter of fact - I hope God continues to provide opportunities like that as I become more obedient in following through on them.

Although it seems like it's taking awhile for Jesus to return, Peter points out in 2 Peter 3:8-10:

"But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance. But the day of the Lord will come like a thief."

So I don't pray that Jesus would return soon anymore; I pray for more time for people to repent and believe, and for me to help in that process any way I can.