"Jesus is Coming . . . I'm not going to need it."

This week, DiAnne and I have the privilege of spending time in Gulf Shores with Tim and Marla Logan, two of our dearest friends.

We met them back in 1989 when I started working as the Youth Minister at West Huntsville Church of Christ. Tim was the deacon over youth, and he and Marla were absolute rockstars at mentoring, supporting, guiding, and just being there when we needed it most.

What started as teamwork turned into a bond that’s outlasted jobs, moves, and life changes. We can go months, or even years, without seeing each other, and within minutes, it’s like we never missed a beat.

At this point, it’s not just friendship. It’s family. And honestly? It feels like a glimpse of eternity.

Because let’s be real: the older I get, the more I realize that most of what we stress about isn’t going to last.

Way back then, they’d laugh when I’d say, “Jesus is coming. I’m not going to need it.” This week, they laughed at it again. We even laughed about the fact that I always say it when they are around.

The thing is… I really mean it.

Because when Jesus returns (and He will), your money won’t matter. Well, how much you have won’t matter. What you did with it? That’s another story.

Your GPA? Irrelevant.
That guy who cut you off in traffic? Not worth the energy.

But that friend you keep meaning to text back?
That family member you’re not speaking to?
That neighbor you always wave at but never really see?
That stuff might echo into eternity.

So here’s a little thought experiment:

If Jesus came back next Thursday, what would instantly lose value?
Your crypto wallet? Your job title? That passive-aggressive text you’ve been crafting for three days?

The promotion? Temporary.
The politics? Temporary.
The savings account? Definitely temporary. (Still important—just not eternal.)

People often ask me, “Do you think we’ll know each other in heaven?” I don’t have a concrete, provable answer. But I think so.

I think my friendship with Tim and Marla will stretch beyond the pages of time. I think one day, in the presence of God, I’ll look over at them and say,
“See! Told you I wasn’t gonna need it.”

People. Relationships. Grace. The stuff that doesn’t make headlines but might just make heaven.

Try this: for just one day, live like His return is hours away.
Watch how fast your priorities reshuffle and how much more important people become than things. 

Jesus doesn’t flatten the world. He re-focuses it. He doesn’t erase ambition. He redefines it. He doesn’t cancel careers, bank accounts, or hobbies. But He does ask: “Where’s your treasure?”

Jesus doesn’t cancel your life goals. He just puts them in the right category: “useful but not ultimate.” He’s not against money, but He does condemn hugging it too tightly. He never said to stop loving life. He just warned not to waste it chasing shadows.

So maybe this week we start living like He’s showing up sooner than expected.
And maybe—just maybe—we stop investing in what’s already expiring and start loving, as if forever starts now.

Careers fade. Headlines change. Investments rise and fall. And that new iPhone?

Jesus is coming. I’m not gonna need it anyway.