IT IS springtime in Texas, and the wild flowers are once again in full bloom. Yesterday there were bare hillsides; today the hills are covered in carpets of blue bonnets . Pastures have been painted a bright golden yellow, and roadsides are a maze of purples, reds, and pinks . I stand in awe as I look at God's handiwork and marvel at the beauty of His creation. I point out their beauty to anyone who will listen, and I wish I had the power to make them last forever. However, I know in just a short time, the flowers will be gone, replaced by grass that will also die, as summer turns into fall and then into winter.
A voice tells the prophet to "Cry out!" (Isaiah 40:6). Isaiah asks, "What shall I cry?" The voice replies, "All men are like grass, and all their glory is like the flowers of the field. The grass withers and the flowers fall, because the breath of the LORD blows on them. Surely the people are grass. The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever."
Man's glory is also short. However, I have access to the power of God's word that can allow men to live forever. Why am I not as eager to share that message as I am to point out the flowers of the field?