The memories that stick with me from childhood are interesting.

As a child, I noticed that when my mother read a book she always read the last few pages before she started the book. I somehow took it upon myself to explain to her that she shouldn’t read the end of the story before she read the beginning. I didn’t stop with just the explanation. I remember getting mad at her for starting at the end of the book. “Mom, you are ruining the story by reading the end. It’s supposed to be something you discover”.

With the advantage of living several more decades, my childhood opinion is open for review.

In fact, there are many days when knowing the end of the story gives me the strength to walk on.

I don’t know how many chapters there are in the story of my life.

If I were to work at it, I could divide my life into segments, like chapters, and choose a title for each one based on my experiences during that period.

What I don’t know today is how far along I am in my story here on earth. How many more chapters are there and what title will they earn?

But, what I do know now is how my story will end.

When Jesus rose from the dead He won the last battle. Because I am in Him and He is in me, I have already won the last battle.

Now when I find myself in a place that feels dark and hopeless, I turn to the end of the book. There I am reminded that Jesus wins.

It helps to live life with the relaxation of watching the replay of a game where you already know the final score.

I think my Mom was right!