No Backup Plan
This past week was such a head-scratcher for me. A lightbulb moment that happens from time to time. The realisation didn’t occur during prayer. I wasn’t reading my Bible when it happened. It wasn’t because someone said something profound to me.
Nope, it was just one of those strange moments where a thought landed in my mind and refused to leave. You know that sudden “aha!” moment, or is it more like getting zapped and your brain does a little flip?
I keep thinking about it, no matter what…
THERE IS NO BACKUP PLAN!
Yeah, I get it. I know, I know. It sounds obvious, right? We’ve all known that forever.
I’ve known we only have one life to live… I’ve just never lived as if I believed it.
Oh, my… I’ve spent so much of the only earthly life I’ll ever have worrying. Worrying about things that never happened. Worrying about what people thought of me. Replaying too many conversations that everyone else had probably forgotten before they even got home. I’ve spent too many years trying to keep everyone happy, trying not to disappoint anyone, trying to become the version of myself I thought people would like a little more. I’m just going to say people-pleaser here.
I’m a regular person. I’ve compared my ordinary life to someone else’s highlights. Focused on everything I didn’t have instead of seeing everything I did. Comparing my achievements to others’ and deeming myself a failure because my journey differed from theirs has been my practice.
Then another thought hit me.
We can’t change the past, obviously. We can replay it over and over. We can wish we’d done things differently. Maybe we’ll think about how things would be if we’d gone another way. We can picture better talks and results, but we can’t go back and change anything. As cool as that would be, it doesn’t exist. We accept that fact right? That we can’t change the past?
So why do I keep living today as though I’ll get another chance later?
Maybe I’ve been treating life like it’s just a practice run. Like the real thing will start someday. The version of me that ceases comparing myself to others. The person who stops caring about others’ opinions. The version where I like my body instead of hating it. The me who’s kinder to myself. This is the version where I finally feel good enough. The version where I finally get my life together.
But there isn’t another version.
THIS IS IT.
This body’s gotten me through all the tough times. This personality is the one God intentionally knitted together. These everyday moments are what He’s given me. This isn’t just a warm-up for the main event. This is my life.
So, here’s what I want you to see.
This life is messy and glorious and confusing, and beautiful all at the same time. We laugh, we cry, we grieve, we celebrate, we get things wrong, we grow, we heal, we stumble, and we keep walking. That’s not a failure. That’s part of being human.
The tragedy isn’t that life is short.
The tragedy is how much of it I’ve spent somewhere else.
I’ve been so focused on what’s next that I missed the good stuff happening now. Forgetting to appreciate the person God made me, I became too consumed with who I desired to become. I’ve wasted too much effort trying to prove what Jesus already took care of at the cross.
James says our lives are like a mist. They appear for a little while and then they’re gone. I don’t think God tells us that to make us afraid. My guess is He tells us because we forget. We forget how precious ordinary days really are. We forget that today’s conversation, today’s kindness, today’s chance to forgive, today’s opportunity to trust Him won’t come around in exactly the same way again.
This one life is a gift.
It’s tough sometimes, no doubt. Life hasn’t always been what I hoped. It’s mine because the God who loves me gave it to me.
If my true destination has always been Jesus, then I don’t want to waste another chapter worrying about opinions that won’t matter, chasing things that will never satisfy, or wishing I was living someone else’s story.
If the hard chapters teach me to lean on Him, I’ll take them. I’ll take the messy chapters because they’re still shaping me. I’ll take the ordinary chapters because one day I’ll realise they were never ordinary at all.
You know, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life staring at my failures. I wanna ask God what He’s teaching me with them. I’m tired of guilt trips whenever I don’t measure up. I want to take the grace offered to help me get back up.
Because I’m going to say it again. There is no backup plan.
There never was. There never will be.
This isn’t the rough draft. It’s not a practice run. There is no option to click for a complete do-over. This one life, beautiful and messy and full of grace, is what God gave me. I’m done wasting time on wanting and waiting for a different story. I want to keep Jesus right beside me for this. Because I’m going to say it again, there’s no backup plan. He is the plan and I’m all for it.
Love, Sarah xx.
Reflection: If you knew this wasn’t a rough draft, how would today have been different? What worries or comparisons have been quietly messing with the gift of life God already gave you?
“Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.”
- James 4:14 (NIV)
Father, I am grateful for your reminder that this existence is a blessing. I ask for your forgiveness for the time I have dedicated to anxiety, self-comparison, a life different from my own, or an identity You did not intend for me. Help me stop treating this life like a rough draft and start receiving it as the beautiful gift it is.
I need help to trust You with the future, cherishing the present, and keeping Jesus, my ultimate destination, in sight. When I fall, remind me Your grace is reaching for me. Point me back to what truly matters when I slip up.
Let me not waste another chapter of the story you’re writing. Amen, in Jesus’ name.
good!
Thank you once again ❤️