No one considers, nor is there knowledge or discernment to say, “Half of it I burned in the fire; I also baked bread on its coals; I roasted meat and have eaten. And shall I make the rest of it an abomination?”
Earlier this year, my wife, son, daughter and I built snowmen in the five inches of snow we were graced with, and I didn’t want a status quo, carrot-nosed, stick-armed snowman; I wanted something more memorable. So I carved a gangly nose and deep-set eyes and pointy ears and a toothless smile on a gargantuan horned-headed figure, and though it was craftsmanship more fitted to Dr. Frankenstein than Michelangelo, I was proud of it. Yet, only five minutes after adding the finishing touches, I watched it collapse into a faceless heap. Now, I might have wept like a baby on the spot had common sense not intervened with two very important insights: first, that God wasn’t buried under all those snowflakes; and second, that His works don’t melt away like mine do.
Christian, don’t follow the wave of people out there who got up this morning to make money and advance a career and pad their portfolio. They’re only adding snowflakes to a life that’s destined to dissolve.