Semper Paratus

I bought my first life insurance policy when I was 22 years old. I suppose the birth of my son Jason had prompted this old retired NCO to call on me and make his pitch. As a young Airman in the Air Force I knew I wouldn’t be able to scratch together much of a premium but there was no doubt about the need to prepare. When I reenlisted with the intent to make a career of military service it was again with an eye on the future and a provision for security. As the years continued on it became ever more evident that my earlier choices in education would fall inadequate to properly prepare for a second career to bring me into retirement from the work force and ease me into the gray days of life, so I reengineered my academic outlook and took on the groundwork of preparation. All along in life there are notices, hints, testimonies and declarations that if one fails to prepare for the inevitable the consequences will be bleak. Notwithstanding those who have decided to rely on the munificence and capacity of the government to come to their aid at the end of their working years (or the end of their years), I believe we’ve all been witness to the reality of the inadequacy of such a strategy, and now that the government has exercised the hubris to take on even more of a load I’m certain we shall all come to observe, in short order, the folly of our hope in government.

Jesus taught this same principle in the parable about the foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the wind blew, and the streams rose to destroy his meager attempts at preparing for the tempest. For, the storm is sure to come and your foundations will reveal your effort. This is an axiom in all parts of life, and it matters not if you have set yourself above the admonitions of God. On his death bed, Henry David Thoreau was asked by his aunt if he was at peace with God, to which his reply was, “I was not aware we had quarreled.” His flippant response in the face of such a serious embarkation revealed volumes about his preparation. Unwillingness to recognize the chasm that exists between my sin and His provision seems all the more preposterous when I realize that the work of preparation has already been accomplished and all I have to do is accept the gift. In preparing for my retirement in the senior years, it would be like someone left me an endowment so that my living costs and medical expenses would all be satisfied at no cost to me – I merely would have to acknowledge the source. I was prompted to remember this recently when I heard an old favorite Church hymn by Elvina M. Hall from her 1865 writing of “Jesus Paid It All.” The refrain goes like this: “Jesus paid it all; All to Him I owe; Sin had left a crimson stain; He washed it white as snow.”