Someday—perhaps sooner than you think—you will stand before God. Not in a crowd. Not beside your pastor or your wife or your family. Just you. One soul. One life. Standing in the light of His holy presence, where all things are laid bare. John writes in Revelation that the earth and heaven fled away from the face of God. All that is left is just you and a Holy God.
And in that moment, we won’t wish we had spent more time scrolling through our phones, or building bigger barns, or surrounding ourselves with comforts, or collecting things just for ourselves. No one will say, “I should’ve worked more overtime,” or “I wish I’d upgraded the house again,” or “I regret not taking more vacations.” Instead, with eternity staring us in the face, we’ll wish we had lived differently. We’ll wish we had lived for what outlasts the earthly.
Jesus said it plainly: “For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” (Mark 8:36) He also said, “For the Son of Man shall come in the glory of his Father with his angels; and then he shall reward every man according to his works.” (Matthew 16:27) Let’s ask it now—before it’s too late—what will we wish we had done?
Loved God with all our heart. Not just acknowledged an awesome God with a mere nod. Not fit Him into the leftover corners of our schedule. But loved Him with one holy passion. With fire and awe and devotion. No idols. No divided loyalties. Rather, a steady gaze upon Him… “Thou shalt love the LORD thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might.” (Deuteronomy 6:5) Worshiping Him—truly worshiping Him—not just on Sundays, but in the stillness of our hearts and homes, in the quiet places of prayer, in the middle of a hard day. We’ll wish we had bowed more often and lifted our heart to the heavens.
Loved others deeper. Our wife. Our children. The body of Christ—the Church. The hurting and the forgotten and refugees. We’ll remember moments when we chose irritation over grace, selfishness over compassion. We’ll wish we had held our tongue. Embraced our child a little longer. Told our wife more often, “You are a gift from God.” We’ll wish we had forgiven our brother in Christ and laid down that grudge. Jesus said, “By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another.” (John 13:35)
Shared the Gospel with the lost. Not casually. Not once in a while. But daily. Boldly. With tears and trembling. The gospel is not just good advice—it is the good news of salvation from God Himself. It is life to the dead. Hope to the hopeless. I think we’ll wish we had seen souls the way Jesus did—moved with compassion. We’ll wish we had passed out more tracts, spoken more truth, cared less about looking strange and more about people escaping eternal judgment. We’ll wish we had introduced the unreached nations to the gentle, loving, all-powerful and awesome God of the universe. “Knowing therefore the terror of the Lord, we persuade men…” (2 Corinthians 5:11)
Hated the world’s system. We’ll wish we had not flirted with the world. Not admired it. But hated it. Because it is the enemy of God, we’ll wish we had been much more careful. That we had shut the door to the entertainment that dulled our spiritual fire. That we had unplugged from voices that choked our faith. Apostle John wrote, “Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him.” (1 John 2:15) We’ll wish we had seen the world not as a playground, but a battleground.
Walked in honesty and truth. We’ll wish we had been real. Clean hands. Pure hearts. No pretense. No double life. Honest in business. Honest in our confession. Honest before God and man. God inspired the Psalmist David to write, “LORD, who may abide in Your tabernacle? Who may dwell in Your holy hill? He that walketh uprightly, and worketh righteousness, and speaks the truth in his heart…” (Psalm 15:1-2) But friend, by the time we’re standing there before God’s throne, it will be too late to change. No more chances. No more redos. The Book will be opened. The record will be read. So let’s live now in light of that day. Let’s love Him with our whole heart. Let’s burn with holy desire. Let’s throw off the weights and run. Because when the heavens roll back like a scroll and the trumpet sounds, nothing—nothing—will matter but this: Did I live for what really matters?
What will you wish?
– Harold R. Troyer