Imagine having a bank account that deposits 960 dollars every single day, but with one catch: you can't save any of it for tomorrow. Every night, your balance resets to zero. What would you do? You'd spend every dollar wisely, right? Well, we already have this bank—it's called time. Every morning we wake with 960 minutes, and every night they're gone forever. This powerful metaphor opens our exploration of Ecclesiastes 12, where the ancient teacher confronts us with life's most uncomfortable truth: time is the one resource we can never stockpile, slow down, or earn back. The passage urges us with stunning urgency to 'remember your creator in the days of your youth'—not as a religious obligation, but as the central organizing principle of a life worth living. Through vivid imagery of a decaying house representing our aging bodies, the teacher shows us that death itself becomes our greatest instructor, rattling its chains to wake us up to what truly matters now. The scripture reveals that over 90% of believers come to faith before age 30, underscoring that the spiritual path we pave in youth becomes the road we walk in age. We're challenged to stop measuring out our lives with coffee spoons, avoiding the deep questions, and instead to lose our lives in Christ so we can truly find them. The invitation is beautifully simple yet profoundly challenging: fear God, keep His commandments, and discover that what we surrender to Him is always returned as something infinitely better.