Guilt, sin, and death – and we are helpless before them, although responsible, for them. Christ is our only hope as the One who knew no sin but became sin for sinners (2 Cor.5:21). Either we are cursed, or we gratefully trust that He became a curse for us (Gal.3:10, 13). Rejoice not in chocolates and days off and shows, but in the sinless person of Christ, and His death, and resurrection.

Calvin begins his Institutes of the Christian Religion with the comment that ‘Nearly all the wisdom we possess, that is to say, true and sound wisdom, consists of two parts: the knowledge of God and of ourselves.’ If we start with Socrates’ ‘Know thyself’, we soon run into three obvious problems with all of us.
First, we all have a guilty record before God. If God should mark our iniquities, who could stand before Him? (Ps.130:3) We all fall short of the glory of God (Rom.3:23), and in the judgment every mouth will be stopped (Rom.3:19). No one will mount a defence. Small wonder that David could pray: ‘For your name’s sake, O Lord, pardon my guilt, for it is great’ (Ps.25:11). The Judge of all the earth does justly, but that is only to restate the problem so far as sinners are concerned.
Secondly, we all have sinful hearts. As Jeremiah put it: ‘The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?’ (Jer.17:9) Out of the human heart comes all the evils that defile us (Matt.15:19). The more we experience of life, and of our own selves, the more we realise that there is madness in our hearts (Eccles.9:3). Augustine of Hippo has been much criticised for over-reacting to his Huckleberry Finn-Tom Sawyer type misdemeanour in joining with some friends in order to steal some pears. They were not hungry, so they ended out throwing the pears at some pigs. So why did they steal the pears in the first place? Many years later a reflective Augustine recalled: ‘our real pleasure consisted in doing something that was forbidden.’ He did what had no reason behind it – rather like the old vandalising of phone booths.
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As Nicholas’s third birthday approached, and with nothing provoking us to sense anything outside the ordinary, my wife, Jana, happened to notice a small number of brown splotches on his skin. Their emergence had been subtle; vaguely circular or oval in shape, and not especially large, they had surfaced at seemingly random spots on his body. She showed them to our pediatrician who, to our surprise, told us to get him checked out by an ophthalmologist. Her counsel was driven by a concern that the splotches could be indicative of a disease called neurofibromatosis, its most common form referred to as “type 1” (NF1, for short). 

It was January 2008 when, to the sheer delight of his new big brother, we brought Nicholas home from the adoption agency. He was all of eleven days old. Despite the lack of any prenatal care whatsoever, all signs pointed to a perfectly healthy baby.
But as Nicholas’s third birthday approached, and with nothing provoking us to sense anything outside the ordinary, my wife, Jana, happened to notice a small number of brown splotches on his skin. Their emergence had been subtle; vaguely circular or oval in shape, and not especially large, they had surfaced at seemingly random spots on his body. She showed them to our pediatrician who, to our surprise, told us to get him checked out by an ophthalmologist.
Her counsel was driven by a concern that the splotches could be indicative of a disease called neurofibromatosis, its most common form referred to as “type 1” (NF1, for short). When the condition is present, tiny bumps – imperceptible to unaided examination, and typically benign in and of themselves – eventually form on the irises of the patient’s eyes.
The visit to the eye doctor was uneventful; much to our relief, she found nothing, but she told us to come back in a year. At that second visit – Nicholas was four years old – she found them. In medical terminology, they are called Lisch nodules, named after the ophthalmologist who discovered their connection with NF1.
There is no formal test for NF1; rather, there is an established checklist of symptoms, with two or more positives taken as an indicator of its presence. Lisch nodules and the brown splotches are both on the list. One of the doctors gave us a brochure and links to a few websites. Collectively, these resources laid out for us a well-populated continuum – a range that runs from inconsequential to life threatening – of potential outcomes for NF1 patients. There are some who, over the course of a full lifespan, never knowingly experience a single symptom; they go to their graves happily unaware that the disease had ever taken up residence in their bodies. There’s another cohort that’s far less fortunate: the roughly five percent of patients for whom the condition results in cancerous tumors.
The extensive array of possibilities between those extremes was disquieting. By the time Nicholas was categorized as an NF1 patient, the bone deformities and enlarged skull that sometimes occur would have already been apparent, so we were able to cross those off the list. As he headed off to school, we would need to watch for learning disabilities – if they were going to happen, they would likely surface no later than the third grade. Blindness or loss of hearing could emerge before or after that point, and during adolescence he might develop scoliosis. When full grown, NF1 patients are sometimes small in stature.
There are no predictors for any of this. Specific manifestations, or the severity of those manifestations, might bear no similarity whatsoever between identical twins who inherit the condition from a parent. As a general rule, however, NF1 typically results in an indeterminate number of benign tumors which can form virtually anywhere in the body. That “anywhere” can mean inside the body where, although inconspicuous to the eyes, they might exert pressure on a vital organ. More frequently, they surface in plain sight, sometimes to the point of disfigurement.
Once the Lisch nodules surfaced and the doctors classified Nicholas as an NF1 patient, my wife and I coped in different ways. Jana, imbued with all the dispositions, sensibilities, and impulses that naturally accompany motherhood, found that the doctors’ conclusions filled her with a deep, abiding sadness and provoked a measure of angst that sat lurking in the background of her day-to-day existence. But she kept these things to herself. I did my best to push the matter off to the side. At a practical level, things changed very little for us on a day-to-day basis. There was little to do. Except pray.
Jana was not yet Catholic, and while I knew she had an active prayer life, it was largely hidden from me. But as Nicholas’s doctor’s appointments approached, she would quietly settle into a fasting routine, a subtle but sure sign that she was ramping things up. Not knowing exactly how this miracle business works, my own prayers progressed through a fairly comprehensive checklist. If God, in his divine wisdom, would not completely heal Nicholas, perhaps he might restrict things a bit, keep the really bad stuff like cancer and blindness off the table. I prayed my way down this path many times, usually making allusions to those instances in scripture where Jesus had healed a child. I’m not sure if I was reminding myself or God that he had done this before.
I think that if my silent prayers had somehow been audible to disinterested bystanders, they would have sensed a genuine belief on my part that God could heal Nicholas, as well as a conviction that sending up such a request wasn’t an entirely unreasonable thing to do. But if one of those imaginary bystanders had asked me what I expected would eventually happen, I don’t have any idea how I might have answered that question.
On March 8, 2016, I took Nicholas – now eight years old – in for his annual appointment with the ophthalmologist. These visits were never quick: there was a protocol that always entailed a few rounds of preliminaries with technicians and interns. But one look at the waiting area told me that we were in for a long afternoon.
When our name was finally called, we were escorted to an examination room where Nicholas climbed into the patient’s chair. I sat off to the side. Eventually, a woman walked in – maybe a technician, maybe an intern.
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If you knew the world was going to end tomorrow, what would you do? Many people believe multiple things must happen before this ending occurs. But regardless of your interpretation of the end times, THIS final end is sure, and Peter speaks as if it could come anytime. We must come to Christ—fully and deeply—and prepare ourselves. We must live in light of the end, in holiness, godliness, peace with God and others, and blameless lives (which can only happen through our dependence upon Christ). 

There is an end to this world. It’s coming. No one knows the day or hour, but it will happen as sure as we are breathing. The Scripture is very clear about this, as was Christ Himself.
The apostle Peter describes it clearly in 2 Peter 3. He tells us what we need to know to realize it is coming and how we should prepare. So, what will happen at the end of time, and what should we do in light of its coming?
1. SCOFFERS WILL DENY IT BECAUSE IT HASN’T HAPPENED YET.
Know this first of all, that in the last days mockers will come with their mocking, following after their own lusts, and saying, “Where is the promise of His coming? For ever since the fathers fell asleep, all continues just as it was from the beginning of creation.” (Vs. 3-4)
You may be in that group. But Peter gives the immediate rebuttal to this argument. He reminds them God created the world, God destroyed the world by water (in Noah’s day), and this world is now destined to be destroyed by fire (Verses 5-7). He (and only He) has the power to accomplish this.
God is sovereign over this world. It exists because of Him and will be destroyed by Him, just as He promised. And that destruction will be His judgment upon His enemy, Satan (who has temporary authority in this world), and all men who have rejected Him.
2. GOD’S TIMING IS PERFECT AND PATIENT
Those who deny this ending don’t understand God’s relation to time. He is withholding this judgment for a season in His mercy so that many can come to repentance.
With the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years like one day. The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance. (Vs. 8-9)
3. IT WILL COME SUDDENLY AND THE WORLD WILL BE DESTROYED WITH INTENSE HEAT
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