Let’s eat and drink for tomorrow we die. Fine, thought St Paul (tongue in cheek) if this life is all there is, (1 Corinthians 15, 32. What do I gain if, humanly speaking, I fought wild beasts at Ephesus? If the dead are not raised, “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die”. )
But if there is a life beyond and a judgement beforehand, God thinks this is a very bad guide to life.
Isaiah 22. 12, 13. In that day the Lord, the Lord God of hosts called for weeping and mourning, for baldness and wearing sackcloth; and behold, joy and gladness, killing oxen and slaughtering of sheep, eating flesh and drinking of wine.
“Let us eat and drink,
For tomorrow we die.”
For many people today, this is their guide to life. How do we get inside their head? How can we shock them into sense? It’s the Spirit’s work, but He uses us.
I wrote this a few days ago—the idea came to me on a train—don’t know why:
Recite this out loud:
Let’s eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.
If we like, though, let’s diet, for appearances’ sake
And when the mood takes us, be civilised,
Unless the mood takes us, otherwise.
But let us not make many waves, not shake
The foundations, don’t start.
Let’s keep calm and our comfort at heart,
For tomorrow we die.
Let’s, as a side effect, rape the whole Earth,
Reluctantly take her for all she’s worth.
Let’s not ask, why not? Let’s milk her dry,
For tomorrow we die.
Let us not think of the stroke of midnight.
Stuff the glass slippers, the coachmen turned mice.
Let’s have a do like– there is no tomorrow;
Tomorrow we die.
Let me love you, the ones who are closest to me,
But the deal only comes with a guarantee,
You don’t clip my wings, I’m free to fly
For tomorrow I die.
And when it’s too late and we’re in it too deep,
Let’s have second thoughts, and think, “Oh, no, not yet.”
Then let’s start the weeping and gnashing of teeth,
And eternal regret.
