January 2012 – Made for Eternity

The way of the transgressor

I woke up the other morning before 4 AM, suddenly remembering that my car was parked out front. Illegally parked, I should say, considering the winter overnight parking restrictions on my street. I had left the car there after work with every intention of moving it to the lot behind my building later in the evening, but completely forgot.

Upon my early early morning remembrance, I threw on some clothes, pulled on my boots, and hurried outside, hoping the parking enforcer wasn’t patrolling our neighborhood that night. But he was, and the fact that my little red car was the only vehicle on the street made for easy pickings. There, poking up out of some freshly fallen snow on my hood, was a nice little “good morning” present from the City of Milwaukee. I cleaned off enough snow to pull the car around back, then opened the citation. Twenty bucks. Could have been worse. With my car safely deposited in my assigned spot, I paid my debt to society online, crawled into bed, and eventually fell asleep again.

Later that morning after I woke up for real, I was reading Colossians 2:13, where Paul says, “When you were dead in your transgressions and the uncircumcision of your flesh, He made you alive together with Him, having forgiven us all our transgressions.” (emphasis mine).

I smiled when I read that, because the first transgression that popped into my head was my “crossing the line” the night before. Milwaukee said, “Don’t park.” I parked. I rightly deserved the ticket, however inadvertent my transgression, and I paid the price.

That somewhat goofy little lesson in justice and penalties caused the beauty of Christ’s work on my behalf to be all the more glorious in my eyes. I could never pay the infinite price for my sins, but his blood was payment enough to take care every single transgression, large and small, past, present, and future.

I am forgiven. Jesus paid it all.

The Atheist and Death

I’ve begun reading Christopher Hitchen’s memoir, Hitch-22. I recently saw an interesting review in a magazine, and I thought I’d give the book a try. I used to be afraid to read authors with whom I disagreed, as if their words would somehow seep into my mind and I would believe as they did. Now I just know to read discerningly. Having made it only a tenth of the way through, I don’t know if I can recommend the book, but I will say that I am enjoying the style of writing thus far, if not always the subject matter.

The preface, written last January, deals much with the author’s imminent death. (He died of cancer in December.) While reading his attempts to grapple with the subject, I was saddened to the point of tears at the loss of this man’s soul. He is brave on paper, clinging tightly to his atheism at one point, and at another stating, “I personally want to ‘do’ death in the active and not the passive, and to be there to look it in the eye and be doing something when it comes for me.”

Those words would sound so noble, almost triumphant, if it weren’t for the fact that Mr. Hitchens rejected with a stiffarm ’til his dying breath the only One who has defeated the grave. Death has thus conquered this man whose eloquent words I read. We weak humans will always lose our last battle, unless we trust in the Risen Lord Jesus Christ, who “lives that death may die”.

Oddly enough, for all his erroneous bravado in the above preface quote, several pages later, the author manages to hit the nail on the head when he addresses life in our present state: “…imagine how nauseating life would become, and how swiftly at that, if we were told that there would be no end to it.” I wrote down a note, “Ah, but only if it is this cursed life, and not the next infinitely blessed one.” If I had to live forever in this body with my sin nature clinging to me, I would despair.

To know this life is not forever is a blessing, but only if one knows what, or put better, Who, is on the other side of that chasm called Death. I can’t face dying bravely because I have confidence in me and some hopeful last words about confronting the inevitable. I can face dying bravely because waiting on the other side is my Father, his beloved Son, and that incomprehensibly beautiful eternal life bought for me on the cross nearly 2000 years ago.

Tranquility

Just got back from an hour long walk. Outside. Without a coat. In Wisconsin. In the middle of January. Hey, it’s 54 degrees, and I’m going to take advantage of that warm sun on my face. Apologies to the skiers, snowboarders, and those who like to skid and slide on slick streets (you know who you are); this “sprinter” (yes, I did combine the words “spring” and “winter”) has been lovely in my opinion. Tomorrow, the weather will finally realize what season it is, and it appears the Lord will be sending several inches of white stuff. Today is the last of the calm before the storm.

I’ve been thinking a lot about storms lately, especially since I read this quote by Warren Wiersbe: “While there is tumult on earth, there is tranquility in heaven.” God, while being intimately involved in all the details of every person’s life, is not worried about the events of this earth. He is in utter and complete control; the outcome of each storm, whether real or figurative, is already known. His plans and purposes will prevail. Thus, perfect peace exists in heaven.

As one who has believed in Jesus Christ and his work for me on the cross, I am now a child of God. My position as his child is “seated . . . in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus.” (Ephesians 2:6) That’s my real place – the most tranquil, restful place imaginable. While I live as an alien and stranger on earth, storms overtake me frequently. Little storms of annoyance and frustration and disappointment. Large storms of sorrow and tragedy and faith-shaking questions.

I must “abide above” in that place of peace by looking to my Savior in each trial. A friend of Hudson Taylor paraphrased that man of faith by saying , “Look up! See the Man in the glory. Let the face of Jesus shine upon you . . . is he worried or distressed? There is no care on his brow, no least shade of anxiety. Yet the affairs are his as much as yours.”

Hallelujah! I am Jesus’ and he is mine. If he is not worried about the storms of my life, how can I be?