Only One

Only One

I’ve been in my new home for several months, but I continue to learn things about this tiny 1950s ranch—the kinds of things one only learns by living in a place over time. I’ve learned that the back door is impossible to jimmy if I’ve walked out without my keys, and after paying a locksmith $129 for my mistake, I decided this is probably a good thing, after all. I’ve learned where the gutters drip and which fence boards need replacing; I know the sounds the air conditioner and furnace make as they cycle off and on and where water pools on the driveway after a heavy rain.

I’ve also learned that when I only have one of something, I pay special attention to it. This is the only home I’ve ever purchased. I have no plans to purchase any other. I treat my one home with attentive care. I tend to it and love doing so. Having only one of something sharpens my focus on that thing. It increases my care of it.

I have only one life. I will not have another. It’s this life I must cultivate, invest, steward, spend. And I have only one Savior—my Father’s only Son. If all goes as I pray it does, I will spend every bit of this life I’ve been given bringing honor and glory to the only begotten Son of God. But the offering up of this one life (while it may have been decided decades ago) is not done once for all time but in increments of minutes, hours, and days. That means every decision counts. Every word counts. Every seemingly insignificant interaction is ripe with opportunity, for good or for ill.

Mary Oliver, in her poem “The Summer Day,” presents the challenge this way: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

I plan to spend my only one, on my Only One. What about you?

I’m asking GOD for one thing, only one thing: to live with him in his house my whole life long. I’ll contemplate his beauty; I’ll study at his feet.

Psalm 27:4, MSG