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Source: https://www.sermonindex.net/speakers/ea-johnston/a-brief-window/
W. Graham Scroggie said of Stephen the Martyr,. Stephen's day of ministry had scarcely begun, when it was violently ended. But the greatness of one's life must not be looked for in length of days. Stephen means crown, and early did he receive his.
I look around at the brevity of life, friends, and sometimes it scares me. I haven't done enough for God, and it shames me. Men who have touched my life and influenced me have dropped like flies and are gone to glory.
Stephen Alford's gone, and Adrian Rogers is gone, and J .I. Packer is gone, and I almost myself was gone with a heart attack recently. We only have a brief window in which to serve God and our generation, and that brief window will soon be closed when we close our eyes in death.
Vance Havner said, If we serve such a dynamite God, then why are so many of us living firecracker lives? I'm afraid that too much of my life has been the fizzle of a firecracker, when it should have been more dunamis power from an extraordinary walk with Almighty God.
In 2 Kings and chapter 13 we read,. And Elisha died, and they buried him, and the bands of the Moabites invaded the land at the coming end of the year, and it came to pass, as they were burying a man, that, behold, they spied a band of men, and they cast the man into the sepulture of Elisha, and when the man was let down and touched the bones of Elisha, he revived and stood up on his feet.
We have but a brief window to work and get the gospel spread, and how we make use of that time impacts eternity one way or the other, but when the window closes in death, we are done and our opportunities are over.
There are a scant few men who labor and die where the Almighty keeps the window cracked open, like a Whitfield or a Finney or a Moody, where you can still come and touch the bones of Elisha and be revived and get life.
Most of us have our time in but one generation, and we are gone, and then our memory and our influence is lost forever. What we do with the time God gives us is crucial to how we live. Do we carry a burden for the souls of men?
Do we agonize in prayer for the lost around us? Do we actively witness in our own wicked community? If we don't tell them about the Jesus who came down here so we can go up there, then who will? The Mormons will get to them, and the Jehovah Witnesses will get to them, and all the other cults will get to them while we fiddle and fuss and fool around with things that have no eternal worth.
Who's going to weep over our lost people today if we won't? Who's going to agonize over the sins of society and pray for revival to grip the land if we don't? Are we willing to renounce all, to renounce our life as we know it, and go all out for God and our generation?
During the second great awakening, a missionary by the name of Titus Cohen bought a one-way ticket and sailed from New York to the big island of Hawaii to reach the natives with the gospel. There, he traversed hills and streams, endured great hardship in a hot jungle to spread the gospel of Christ Jesus.
The natives were first and different to the gospel message, but in 1835, while he was in the midst of preaching an outdoor sermon, God sent a powerful revival to the island of Hawaii, and our witness recorded the terrible scene.
There was trembling, weeping, sobbing, and loud crying for mercy, sometimes too loud for the preacher to be heard. And in hundreds of cases, his hearers fell in a swoon. Some would cry out, the two-edged sword is cutting me to pieces.
God's presence was so real it was disturbing. Wicked scoffers who came to mock dropped like dogs and cried, God has struck me. One man, a humble missionary willing to forsake all for Christ in his generation, knew he had but one window of opportunity in which to work, and he sacrificed all and saw mighty revivals where thousands came to Christ, so that when he died, the natives referred to him as the St. Peter of Hawaii.
Duyomudi knew his window was brief for saving souls, and he threw himself out on the full stretch for God in his generation. He had heart trouble and he could barely stand, so he leaned against the pulpit, and with his head bowed, he prayed for the people there to come to Christ as the choir sang, Just as I am, without one plea.
Mudi prayed, every head was bowed. Then he asked that all who had received blessing should rise quietly in their places. Mudi heard the sound of feet on the wooden floor as two hundred rose, and looking up, he murmured, My God, this is enough to live for.
Oh, how I want to burn myself out, like a mudi for God. A brief window, and then we're done. A brief window, and then we're gone. Only one life, it will soon be past. Only what's done for Christ will last.