My Time Wasn't Come Yet

Francis Bourdillon, 1873

"You see, my time wasn't come yet," said Dick Jones, as he jumped down from the parade and ran to get his boat into the water, for he saw the ladies and gentlemen approaching whom he was to take out that beautiful calm day.

Old Jerry Clark shook his head as he looked after him. "I doubt your time'll come before you're ready for it, Dick," said he, "if you don't mend your ways." But Dick was out of hearing.

Dick Jones was a well-known man in the place. He was one of the best boatmen there, and visitors liked to go out with him, for he was very lively and a great talker and full of stories of his adventures. They were mostly true stories too. Few men had gone through more dangers than Dick, or had more narrow escapes. He was just describing the last of them to some of his mates, when he broke off at the sight of his party coming.

It had happened the winter before. Dick's winter work was very different from his summer work. In the winter he did not row visitors about on the calm sea; then he made one of the crew of a fishing lugger and was often out in rough weather. One night in the winter before, the lugger had been caught in a storm and driven out to sea and forced to run for shelter to a distant port. Several of the other boats was lost in that storm, and Dick's lugger was almost given up for lost. He was telling his mates about it (not for the first time by any means) and describing how nearly the lugger had been swamped! "I never had such a narrow escape before," said he, "but, you see, my time wasn't come yet." And so he ran off laughing.

Yet he was old enough to have had more thought, for he was by no means a young man. One escape after another had he had—and still no thought, no care, no change; even his own words might well have made him think: "My time wasn't come yet." Then it will come some day—am I ready for it? But no such question occurred to him. Whether a serious thought crossed his mind in the hour of danger, I know not; but if it did, it all blew over with the storm. Safe ashore again, he thought no more of his "time" but went on as before, just as light and careless as if he had nothing to live for but to please himself.

As for being grateful to God for saving his life or considering what such mercies and warnings called him to, I fear he troubled himself with no such thoughts. I wonder whether he goes on so still or whether his "time has come"; perhaps, as old Jerry said, it has come before he was ready for it.

Whether he goes on so or not, there are plenty who do—many who outwardly lead a very different life perhaps from Dick Jones, who have nothing to do with the sea and have never been in danger of drowning, but who are nevertheless like him in careless unconcern about the future state and their own souls.

"My time wasn't come yet," or, "My time is not come yet." This is the most that any man can say—the youngest, the strongest, the most stout-hearted. "Not yet"; you cannot get beyond that. There is nothing between you and the future state except that "not yet." For your time will come. You cannot help its coming. You cannot put it off for a moment. Your time depends not on your will, but God's. You cannot lift a finger against the will of God. When He says your time is to come—then come it will. Even Dick Jones seemed to allow this. "You see," said he, "my time wasn't come yet," as if he was aware that all rested with God and that no one could tell beforehand whether his time was to come then or not.

Nobody ever can tell that. God keeps that secret to Himself. Not only in danger at sea or in any other special danger—but at all seasons, we never know whether our time is at hand or not.

When Dick Jones spoke of his "time," he meant his time to die. How could he speak of it so lightly? How can anyone speak lightly of his time of dying? If death ended all, even then it would be too solemn to be spoken of so. But it does not end all. "It is appointed for men to die once—but after this the judgment" (Hebrews 9:27)—the judgment and then the eternal state. Can you think of that and still speak jokingly of your "time," especially if you know that you are not ready and that if you were to die now, the judgment would go against you?

How amazing it is that any man can be so thoughtless, so foolish, so mad! "My time wasn't come yet." He had had an escape, a narrow escape. If his life had not been saved—ten what would have become of his soul? For he was not ready to die. Yet he did not take the warning and from that time begin to prepare. No, he went on just as before; perhaps he is going on so now. He is not ready; he is in danger of the judgment; he may die at any moment; his "time" is sure to come sooner or later. But he does not care. "Let it come!"

So he says. No, he does not say so, but perhaps he lives so. Does this touch you, reader? Are you such a one? Oh think! Eternity is no trifling matter. Your soul is at stake. Your "time," your dying time, is drawing nearer every day, and you know not how near it may be. And you are not prepared for it; you are not even preparing. The only way to be ready to die, is to be washed from guilt in the blood of Jesus. That precious blood is open to you; Christ's salvation is ready for you as a free gift. Why has not your "time" come yet? Why are you this day a living man? Is it not in mercy, because you were not ready? But your time will come. Let it not come too soon. Make sure that it will not come too soon, by fleeing to Christ. Then it cannot come too soon. Then it cannot take you by surprise.

Your time for this has come: "It is time to seek the Lord" (Hosea 10:12). "Seek the Lord while He may be found, call upon Him while He is near" (Isaiah 55:6). He is near now; He may now be found. This present time, is your time for seeking Him. It may be the only time. Do not let it slip.