I am a big country music fan. I haven’t always been. I grew up with my mother playing Alabama and George Strait cassettes in the car until I was nauseous. Funny how life changes you.

I recently heard a song on my radio that was timely. In the last few months, my schedule has been jam-packed beyond belief. Then along comes a song that reminds me of the deceptiveness of time. We move along as though it is an endless well from which we can draw. I don’t know about you, but I know that I can easily let my Outlook calendar get packed with work, school, or theater related stuff. Somehow, the really important things always seem easier to push out.

But how long do we have? Tim McGraw sings about a man who discovers that his young life is facing a potentially life-ending illness in “Live Like You Were Dying”. The man’s response to the sudden news is a radical change in his lifestyle. He goes sky diving, Rocky Mountain climbing, and spends 2.7 seconds on the back of a bull. His relationships suddenly have a high priority, becoming the husband and friend he should have been.

I started to reflect on how I’m living my life. Am I living it recklessly, thinking that I’ve got years and years left? Or am I investing each moment in the things that truly matter? Proverbs 27:1 says, “Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring forth.” James puts it even more succinctly in James 4:13-14 when he writes, “Now listen, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to this city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.’ Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.”

Of course, it is wise to plan and to live in a forward-thinking way. But when we look at our calendars, where is the priority? Is it one more meeting at the office? One more political function? One more, dare I say it, meeting with a committee at church? All of these are noble things, and I've done my fair share of each. Still, the day will come when I will look back and wonder why I didn’t forego that extra meeting and spend the time playing basketball with my daughter, going camping with the family, taking my wife to dinner, or telling that dear friend about a Savior that loves him.

“Live like you were dying.” Good advice. I’ve got some calendar cleaning to do. Thanks for the reminder, Tim.

Chris Goldston