After all my classes, I headed down to my Jeep for some lectio divina; I am in desperate need of rekindled relationship with Yahweh. We exchanged several words, and I expressed to him my thoughts and concerns and emotions over the last few days. He led me to Psalm 49, the words of which sank deep within me:

Listen, everyone, listen--earth-dwellers, don't miss this. All you haves and have-nots, all together now: listen. I set plainspoken wisdom before you, my heart-seasoned understandings of life. I fine-tuned my ear to the sayings of the wise. I solve life's riddles with the help of a harp.

So why should I fear in bad times, hemmed in by enemy malice, shoved around by bullies, demeaned by the arrogant rich? Really! There's no such thing as self-rescue, pulling yourself up by your bootstraps. The cost of rescue is beyond our means, and even then it doesn't guarantee life forever, or insurance against the Black Hole.

Anyone can see that the brightest and best die, wiped out right along with fools and dunces. They leave all their prowess behind, move into their new home, The Coffin, the cemetary their permanent address. And to think they named counties after themselves!

We aren't immortal. We don't last long. Like our dogs, we age and weaken. And die.

This is what happens to those who live for the moment, who only look out for themselves: death herds them like sheep straight to hell; they disappear down the gullet of the grave; they waste away to nothing--nothing left but a marker in a cemetary. But me? God snatches me from the clutch of death, he reaches down and grabs me.

So don't be impressed with those who get rich and pile up fame and fortune. They can't take it with them; fame and fortune all get left behind. Just when they think they've arrived and folks praise them because they've made it good, they enter the family burial plot, where they'll never see sunshine again.

We aren't immortal. We don't last long. Like our dogs, we age and weaken. And die.

The psalm (here in The Message version) contrasts those who devote their lives to themselves and those who devote their lives to God. The writer of this psalm shows how futile it is to live for oneself and how it is such a blessing to "live for God and God alone." God told me through this, "It's better to come with Me. I promise."

Setting the Bible down, I made a rugged decision: my hopes, my dreams, my aspirations, my life--my all!--are now in the lap of God. Let Him do what He wants with it. I'm tired of always worrying about it and losing sleep over it. He has to deal with it now. I will worship and serve Him wherever He takes me. He has called me to yet another higher level of discipleship. If I remained where I am now, God would still use me and be intimate with me. But He has called me to something greater, something I have no clue about. So I guess I'll follow Him. I'm sure it'll be better. He isn't a liar.

The implications of this move are beginning to appear, are beginning to make themselves known. I know Yahweh is smiling upon me; it is a wonderful feeling!

But if serving the LORD seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your forefathers served beyond the River, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you are living. But as for me and my household, we will serve the LORD. - Joshua 24:15, NIV