In the Twinkling of an Eye

“In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump; for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall all be changed.” 1 Corinthians 15:52

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Strange title, I admit. Like a New Year’s Eve kiss, where will it go? Forget the part about the dead showing back up. Just to get changed is exciting enough.

Christmas is history. The frenetic shopping, the oohs and ahs of unwrapping, all that’s over in the twinkling of an eye. The remains include a desiccated and needle-dropping Christmas tree, volumes of ‘re-gift’ opportunities and a prodigious quantity of sugar sufficient to anesthetize an elephant.

News reports that $90 billion of merchandise will be returned or exchanged. The binge balloons, credit card fast-draw holsters proliferate, e-bay is overloaded, and common sense has collapsed. We’re left with an assortment of odds and ends to tidy up before 2018 will even consider showing up. Yet the cycle continues.

This week’s lull is prologue for the buildup to, or the letdown from, the final stroke of midnight on Sunday. Because in the twinkling of an eye, friends, 2017 will vanish like the exhalation of your last breath.

The ‘twinkling eye’ theme has been hijacked from Scripture by the songs of Dylan and Cash, two greedy grave robbers who exhume literary bones from the Good Book for filthy lucre. They ‘borrowed’ from the brain of St. Paul on the discourse of the dead rising and the part about changing.

Now, Brother Paul was not a pundit who promoted some political prophesy when mentioning “the last trump” (note: the ‘t’ is lower case). He might have foreseen, however, that many would be hopeful this particular ‘trump’ will be the last flash in the pan. He cleaned up the misnomer quickly by referencing “trumpet” in the next breath.

I once played a trumpet in a military band. And from personal testimony I can promise you that my notes would have raised the dead. I was soon ‘changed’ to a rifle platoon, and my golden trumpet given to someone who could ‘taps’ the dead to rest. Oh, well.

Now I’m all about change, hard as it is to accept. Not the kind that affects me, of course. I like things the way they are. But, the harshest thing about change is to accept that my mind has lied to me. No, my financial ship has not arrived; and No, all women don’t find me appealing.

This hint was obvious when my Christmas stocking was stuffed with enormous quantities of magical emollients guaranteed to erase wrinkles. Nothing has changed here except money from one pocket to another. Blemishes generate big bucks.

Before long the trumpet of 2017 will draw its last breath, blow its last note and leave its ghost to history. And in the twinkling of an eye, a millisecond in time, 2018 will become a living and breathing epoch.

Before the carcass of 2017 is rolled away, maybe it’s a good time to take a deep breath and assess our own ‘there-go-I’ situation. Now me, I like breathing and do it often. It’s healthy. A good breath will go a long way, so don’t take it lightly. Those who do may not like the change they’ll get.

Some friends lament the days of heavy breathing. Not me. I confess it’s been a long time since I’ve experienced it, much less even given thought to it. No need to visit the cemetery of the deceased. The slow-paced gasping group is sufficient; let the blowhards bellow on by chanting yogic oms.

Our culture measures time in years, not in moments. We give scant attention to the tides of our breath. Maybe we’re afraid of connecting with the rhythms of nature. For as the breath goes, so go the years.

This intervening week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve is a good time to reflect on our deeds and thoughts. Turmoil is always waiting. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if our eyes would reveal our love, and our smiles wipe out our wrinkles?

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In the twinkling of an eye 2017 will end its journey. But let’s remember, with every new breath, a New Year’s Day can begin anew. Happy New Year.

Bud Hearn
December 29, 2017