Don’t Count on Tomorrow Because Life Can Change in an Instant
- meetgodattheedgeof
- Jan 21
- 4 min read
Today’s testimony is brought to you by our Heavenly Father.
James 4:14
How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.
Today, I feel led to do this a little differently. This is both a testimony and a message the Lord placed on my heart—a reminder that we truly don’t count on tomorrow, even when we assume it will come.
My older brother was the type of person who had a short temper with anyone. It didn’t matter if you had known him his whole life or just for a few minutes. I’ve seen him threaten store employees and even our dad. He had no regard for authority.
His life started down this path in high school. Despite going to church with the rest of our family, he rebelled and went down a dark road. Looking back now, it’s clear how easily we forget that when we stray from God, we begin living as if tomorrow is guaranteed—when Scripture tells us not to count on tomorrow at all.
Joining the army seemed to make things worse. He came home with the strength and means to back up his threats. He was formidable. I was the closest to him. We looked almost exactly alike, just eight years apart. That closeness seemed to transcend all the obstacles he created. We were buds, and I would defend him whenever Mom or Dad had something negative to say.
The life he chose eventually led him to Texas. He seemed to fit in nicely and found like-minded friends. I still don’t know if that was a good thing. Moving to Texas felt like an escape for him—just leaving California made him feel like he was leaving Mom and Dad’s rules behind, living as though he had all the time in the world.
The hardest part was not seeing each other and not being part of each other’s families. My kids did get to meet him, and they loved him instantly. That was truly a blessing. He asked about them every time we spoke on the phone. I’m thankful now for every conversation, because when you realize you can’t count on tomorrow, even small moments matter.
One of my brother’s worst choices was leaning into alcohol as a form of escape. I honestly believe he was ashamed of what he had done to many relationships but didn’t know how to put it into words—so he never said anything. I forgave him, but others held onto grudges, and that only widened the divide.
Because of the alcohol, my brother’s health was terrible. Every few weeks he was in the hospital—diabetes, leg issues, heart issues. I could tell it was starting to scare him. The brother I once thought was fearless was actually driven by fear. That realization shook me and reminded me again why we don’t count on tomorrow—because life can change faster than we ever expect.
But he never let up.
He drank a gallon of whiskey every weekend. This was cutting back after doctors warned him.
One night, I got a call from his wife saying my brother was in the hospital for pain in his leg. I told her I would pray for him and asked her to keep me updated.
A few hours later, she called again—her voice full of worry. As they were moving him in the bed, his leg slipped off. The pain sent him into cardiac arrest.
All I could think was, Oh no, Lord—we need You. In moments like that, you realize how fragile life really is and why God tells us not to count on tomorrow.
The next call was filled with crying. I couldn’t understand what she was saying. I told her we needed to be strong for him and to pray. I thought she was just overwhelmed. She hung up.
Seconds later, my sister called.
“Kev… Jason just died.”
Sitting in my chair, it felt like my body split in two. I cried out, “Lord, give me strength!” over and over. Every missed phone call, every visit that didn’t happen, every unspoken word came flooding back. I fell apart. I threw my phone across the room. I didn’t want to accept that he was gone—gone because I had unknowingly counted on tomorrow.
My brother did not live the life of a Christian. He didn’t have visible proof of faith or salvation, and that weighed heavily on my heart for a long time.
Then, a day later, his wife told me something I didn’t know.
While my brother was in pain at the hospital, a chaplain stopped by his room. In desperation, my brother said, “I will listen to everything you have to say if you help me readjust my leg.” So the chaplain did.
That, my friends, is where my hope rests.
None of us know what happened in those final moments. None of us know what was said or prayed. But God does. And even when we don’t count on tomorrow, we can trust God with eternity.
So don’t count on tomorrow.
You are not guaranteed it.
The people you love aren’t guaranteed it.
Even the people who cause you grief aren’t guaranteed it.
Talk now.
Call now.
Pray now.
Reach out like tomorrow may never come.
Thank You, Father, for one more day.
Amen.
