Fearlessly Courageous
Desk of Dennis Piller
11 6 2026
WE ARE OUT OF TIME — Our Father Who Art in Heaven!
“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name…”
In the terrifying final moments of a plane falling from the sky, a man’s voice could be heard praying The Lord’s Prayer. Then came those desperate words from the young pilot: “We’re out of time.” And a final scream.
The horror of knowing there was nothing more they could do.
Those words have marked me.
On November 1, nine precious lives were reportedly lost when a private jet crashed in Florida. A journey toward the Bahamas became a journey no one expected. The aircraft was descending more than 20,000 feet per minute. At 660 mph, nine lives were gone. Nine families forever changed. My heart breaks for them, and I pray for the comfort of those left behind.
But I cannot escape those words. We’re out of time.
There is an ancient Latin phrase, Memento Mori, meaning “Remember that you will die.” James 4:14 reminds us that our lives are like a vapor, appearing for a little while and then vanishing away. We know this. We’ve heard it preached, read it in our Bibles, and watched it happen to people around us.
I remember being on the Daytona International Speedway during a motorcycle racing school, traveling more than 120 miles per hour as I approached the inner horseshoe turn. And somehow, I simply forgot to turn! Earlier that day, a professional rider had crashed in that very spot, destroying his racing bike and leaving in an ambulance. Now I was headed straight off the track, desperately feathering my front and rear brakes, knowing I was going down in the sand. There was no time for a carefully worded prayer. All I could cry was, “JESUS! JESUS! JESUS!” Somehow, I came through the sandy infield and back onto the track, my heart pounding, breathing like a freight train, overwhelmed by what I believed was God’s deliverance.
My best friend, riding behind me, later asked, “You just didn’t turn. Why?” I couldn’t explain it. But I’ve thought about that moment many times since. What if I hadn’t come through? What if that had been my final breath? And perhaps the more uncomfortable question is this: God gave me more time. What have I done with it? How many people have I loved, prayed for, and yet failed to tell about Jesus? I have a picture over my desk to remind me of that day.
And somehow, we have become accustomed to death until it strikes close to home.
Another accident. Another young person gone. Another friend diagnosed with something terrible. Another funeral. We shake our heads, whisper a prayer, and return to our routines. Until death comes knocking on our own door, and suddenly everything changes.
But what will it take to jar us off the couch? To pry open our mouths? To move us beyond the embarrassment, the awkwardness, or the fear of rejection that keeps us from talking about the most extraordinary Person who ever walked this earth?
Jesus Christ. The One who conquered death and offers eternal life to everyone who will receive Him.
Think about this. Suppose someone placed a billion dollars in gold into your hands. More wealth than you could possibly spend in a lifetime. And someone you dearly loved was struggling to survive. Would you hesitate to give them a million? Would you watch them suffer while protecting a treasure so abundant you could never exhaust it?
Yet we possess something infinitely more valuable than gold. We have been given the knowledge of salvation, the promise of forgiveness, the hope of heaven, and the love of a Savior who gave His life so that others might live.
And we hesitate to share it. Why?
Is it because we don’t want to offend someone? Because we might be embarrassed? Because our children, neighbors, coworkers, or lifelong friends might think we’ve become too religious?
Or have we simply convinced ourselves there will always be another opportunity?
Another Christmas. Another family gathering. Another phone call. Another tomorrow.
But who promised us tomorrow? How many have lost a loved one during the holidays,
when everyone was supposed to be together?
We cannot add one hour to our lives by worrying (Matthew 6:27). We cannot bargain with time, purchase another breath, or schedule the day we will stand before our Creator. Yet we live as though time belongs to us, as though we can spend it carelessly and somehow replenish what we’ve lost.
And here’s what troubles me most. How many people do we love who still don’t know the Jesus we know?
I’m not talking about cornering someone with a sermon or frightening them into a decision. I’m talking about loving someone enough to have a conversation we’ve been avoiding. Sitting across from them, looking into their eyes, and saying, “You know how much I love you. Can I tell you what Jesus has meant in my life?”
That’s where it begins.
Jesus said in John 14:6, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” And Romans 10:14 asks how people can believe in
the One of whom they have not heard.
We have the privilege of telling them.
Not forcing a decision. Not winning an argument. Not pretending we can save anyone. Only Jesus saves. But we can open the door, share His love, explain His sacrifice, and invite someone to say yes to the Savior who has already said yes to loving them.
And perhaps that person has been waiting for someone they trust to tell them.
We talk about wanting to finish well. We talk about leaving a legacy. But what greater legacy could we leave than knowing someone we loved came to Christ because we finally found the courage to speak?
I’ve heard stories of grown sons and daughters sitting beside their father’s hospital bed, sharing Jesus one final time, and watching him surrender his life to Christ in those last precious hours. Can you imagine the joy, the relief, the overwhelming gratitude of that moment? But how many of us will ever be given that opportunity?
And why would we gamble someone’s eternity on a conversation we keep postponing?
Those five words from that cockpit should awaken something within every believer.
We’re out of time.
Not necessarily today. Perhaps not for another twenty years. But someone we love may not have twenty years. They may not have twenty days. Neither may we.
So whose name is coming to your mind right now? Your son? Your daughter? A brother, a sister, an old friend? Someone you’ve prayed for but never actually spoken to about Jesus?
Maybe the Holy Spirit is placing that name on your heart for a reason.
Don’t let this become another devotional you read, agree with, and forget by lunchtime.
Call them. Invite them to coffee. Tell them your story. Ask if you can share what Christ has done for you. Let your words be filled with gentleness, humility, and love. And trust God with what happens next.
Because the greatest gift of life Jesus has given us was never intended to be treasured privately while the world around us desperately needs Him.
We have been given the Gift of Life Eternal so that we might help others discover Life Himself.
And one day, when our own earthly journey is finished, wouldn’t it be wonderful to stand before our Father knowing we didn’t keep His greatest gift to ourselves?
And what is keeping you from having that conversation today?
Father, forgive us for the opportunities we’ve allowed to slip away. Open our eyes to the preciousness of every life around us. Give us courage without arrogance, urgency without fear, and love that refuses to remain silent. Help us reach those we love while there is still time. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
My prayer is that these devotionals do more than give you something to think about… that they draw you closer to Jesus Christ, deepen your love for Him,
and encourage you to live out your faith.
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