Made for Eternity

“On no day will its gates ever be shut, for there will be no night there.” Revelation 21:25

I want the morning to break so that, finally, night (in every sense) is never again. And my sinfulness, which weighs so heavy on my soul, is gone. And this weak and worn down body, which I work to make stronger for a very little while longer, is suddenly eternally whole, and dances and skips as I fill new lungs with heaven’s air and sing perfect notes with my unbreakable heart bursting with unmeasured praise to the One, the only One, who is worthy.

For today, I sit here, and evening falls
But that sweet whisper in my spirit calls,
“Just wait, my girl, it’s not long now.”

As a resident of the state of Wisconsin who occasionally listens to football games on the radio, I have become quite familiar with Green Bay play-by-play announcer Wayne Larrivee’s trademark phrase, “And there is your dagger!” This exclamation is invariably shouted with gusto toward the end of a game in which the Packers have just made a victory-clinching play. Although I’m not at all a fan of the team, I have to admit I do like the “dagger cry”. It’s so final, so certain. It means the battle is done; triumph is assured.

The book of Hebrews has a “dagger passage” that I have come to love. While memorizing it for a class recently, I was in awe of the beautiful finality presented in the verses. Read them slowly and out loud. I added some bolded text where I like to especially emphasize the words.

“By that will we have been sanctified through the offering of the body of Jesus Christ once for all. And every priest stands ministering daily and offering repeatedly the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins. But this Man, after He had offered one sacrifice for sins forever, sat down at the right hand of God, from that time waiting till His enemies are made His footstool. For by one offering He has perfected forever those who are being sanctified.” Hebrews 10:10-14

I still get chills when I read these verses. Can you get any clearer than that? It’s over. Done. As our substitute, Jesus Christ paid it all; He triumphed over sin, death, Satan, and hell so completely that there is nothing any sinner on this earth can ever do to add to his work. We are to simply rest in who he is and what he did.

Jesus himself proclaimed that his sacrifice was sufficient for all sins when, while still on the cross, he cried out, “It is FINISHED!” (John 19:30)

And there is the ultimate dagger.

The other day I was talking to my friends Ian and Emily about peace, specifically the peace that is to rule in the believer’s heart according to Colossians 3:15. Our pastor spoke of it being an inner tranquility and restfulness, no matter what our circumstances may be on the outside.

“My middle name’s definitely not Tranquility,” I said.

“No,” said Emily, “It’s Rumble Strip.”

Oh, yeah.

I came by the nickname  fairly or unfairly (depending on your perspective) during a road trip a couple years ago where I may have veered slightly off to the right and . . . rumblerumblerumble. It happened only twice during the thousand miles I drove. Still, I am now Rumble Strip.

It was kind of funny that Emily reminded me of the nickname during a conversation on peace, because it’s true. I often live my life like I’m driving on rumble strips, with my heart shaking and quaking and getting all disturbed. I worry about this. I fret over that. I think God can’t handle such-and-such or so-and-so. Rather than driving peacefully on Tranquility Highway, I choose to bump uncomfortably on the rough edges of my road.

It ain’t fun. And it’s not right. Since the peace of God is ours when we simply rest in his promises, why do we choose to drive on the rumble strips?

Colossians 3:15 “And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to which you were also called in one body; and be thankful.”

Aaaaaaa! This is CRAZY!

So, if you hadn’t heard, there is a new “outreach” program started by the White House, where you can sign up and get randomly selected for a 5 minute Skype chat with the President of the United States. I’m guessing he does 3-4 of these every Saturday afternoon. Anyway, yours truly signed up on a whim a few weeks ago, and would you believe it? I got chosen! (!!!!) Now, I’m not a big fan of Obama’s policies, but I figured it’s 5 minutes of the undivided attention of the leader of the free world, so why not give it a shot? I was so excited, I could barely sleep last night after I got the “you’ve been selected” email. You better believe I wrote down some notes on what I wanted to say to him.

Here’s the play-by-play:

Today at 1:05pm CST, I was sitting at my kitchen table, and my Skype notifier rang. I freely admit I was a little ( A LOT) nervous as I accepted the call and saw the President appear on my computer screen.

“Hi, Katie,” he said. For a second, I couldn’t think beyond the thought, Oh, wow. He knows my name! It was all a little stunning.

 

Also, very fictional. Had ya going there for a minute, didn’t I? (Or not. Some of you are waaay too smart.)

Change the scenario a bit: This morning, I prayed for 50 minutes. OK, stifle the yawn. I know. You were all impressed when I talked to the President of the United States of America for 5 minutes today, but the fact that I communed with The King of All That Exists for 10 times as long  is no big deal.

Do you see the problem? What is wrong with us?

That’s easy to answer. We tend to be far too in awe of the trappings of this world, of the Shiny Things and Important People we can see and hear and touch. We who are children of God through faith in Christ Jesus forget too often the incredible privilege that is ours. I’ll say it again. We are children of God! He doesn’t just know our names; he knows our hearts, our personalities, our secrets, our struggles.

Because of Jesus, we have the right to come before the infinitely powerful, holy, and awesome God and talk to him about everything and anything, anywhere, anytime. And, as if it couldn’t get any more wonderful,  he WANTS us to talk to him. In view of this, neglecting prayer is ridiculous in the extreme. Prayer should be a treasured time, a delight to our hearts.

When I’m thinking right, I can’t help but realize that talking to my Father in Heaven beats Skyping with the President in Washington in every possible way.

Hebrews 10:19, 22 “Therefore, brethren, having boldness to enter the Holiest by the blood of Jesus . . . let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, having our hearts sprinkled from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.” (emphasis mine)

The other day, I was cleaning out my fridge and looking at all the little dates stamped on the cartons and cans. As I tossed out old yogurt and the tomato sauce, I thought about my expiration date. (Yes, that is rather a deep subject to be contemplating during such a mundane task.) It would be kinda nice to know when it is. Imagine all of us walking around with dates stamped on the back of our necks informing us when we are going to die.

August 17, 2072

September 3, 2036

May 12, 2012 . . . oh.

OK, maybe not so nice. Still, our time will come, and we don’t have a clue when. Compare 31 year old me with a 95 year old.  Whose expiration date will come first? Odds are, his. But he may have another 10 years, while I may have another 10 months. Or 10 minutes.

This talk of death, it doesn’t scare me. I’m thankful for my life here, but I’m really excited about what happens next, because my final breath on earth simply means a new start in that perfect place with a beautiful Savior. He died for my sins and he rose again. He’s given me eternal life just because I trusted him and nothing else.

The point is, I’m ready to die, whether it’s today or 70 years from today. No matter when my expiration date is, I know eternal life is mine.

Do you?

1 John 5:13a  “These things I have written to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, that you may know that you have eternal life. . .”

 How We Know

1 John 3:16a

 What the world needs now

Is love, sweet love;

That’s what they say

But how do we know what true love is

In a world that has twisted it and

Tangled it and turned it upside down?

 This is how we know:

The Son of God became Man,

A tiny infant

Born not in the palace befitting a prince,

But in a stable

Whose birth was heralded by angels

But greeted only by cows and goats

And some scraggly shepherds.

 This is how we know:

The Son of Man walked the earth for thirty-three years

In absolute perfection.

His every thought was pure, his every action right, his every word true.

He calmed storms on the sea and storms in men’s hearts,

He put the Pharisees in their place

He healed blind eyes, lame legs, deaf ears, and withered hands.

 This is how we know:

The Good Shepherd sought his lost sheep.

He ate with tax collectors and sinners,  forgave adulterers,

And offered living water to a woman at a well

Who had known many men

But had never known love.

 This is how we know:

Wrapped in a servant’s towel, the King of Glory

Stooped and washed the grime

Of a long day’s journey from the feet

Of his quarrelsome disciples.

 This is how we know:

The spotless sinless Lamb of God chose to hang

On a rough wooden cross

Loving his mockers

Dying for them

Dying for all of us

Paying our sin debt in full,

So that when he rose on the third day,

He could offer salvation freely

To all who trust in him alone.

 Yes, truly, this is how we know what love is:

Jesus Christ laid down his life for us.

I sing with my speech kids nearly every day. The rhythm and rhyme reach different parts of their brains and help most of them grasp new concepts more easily. We rap vocabulary words and definitions, tap out syllables (re-frig-er-a-tor), and sing goofy songs about plants and animals or how much we like sandwiches. One of my favorite ditties is a little poem written by Rose Fyleman called “Singing Time”. I made up a tune to it and taught it to my kiddos. It goes like this:

“I wake in the morning early/And always the very first thing/I poke out my head/I sit up in bed/And I sing, and I sing, and I sing.”

My little guys love the song, but to tell you the truth, when I wake in the morning early and poke out my head, my natural response is not to burst forth in a (scratchy, morning voice) melody. My first reaction is to moan, and to moan, and to moan. That’s why my alarm is set to play Robert Lowry’s beautiful hymn “How Can I Keep From Singing?” in a version sung by James Loynes. These are the words to the first two verses:

“My life flows on in endless song/Above earth’s lamentation/I hear the sweet, tho’ far-off hymn/That hails a new creation;/Thro’ all the tumult and the strife/I hear the music ringing;/It finds an echo in my soul,/How can I keep from singing?

“What tho’ my joys and comforts die?/The Lord my Saviour liveth;/What tho’ the darkness gather round?/Songs in the night he giveth./No storm can shake my inmost calm/While to that Refuge clinging;/Since Christ is Lord of heaven and earth,/How can I keep from singing?”

Since I have a gradual alarm, in which the volume increases slowly over a couple minutes, I usually awaken in the middle of the second verse, so my first conscious thought most days is that Christ is Lord of heaven and earth. What an amazing truth to think of right as I start off – he is Lord of today! He is Lord of the joy I will face, of the challenges, of the expected, of the unexpected. He is sovereign over all.

With him on my mind, how CAN I keep from singing (even with that rusty voice)?

“It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes.” Psalm 119:71

My favorite miracle in the Bible is where Jesus heals the man with the withered hand. It’s a story that’s found in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, and almost every time I read it, I get a little chill. That’s because I can see in my mind this man stretching out his shriveled up, paralyzed right hand and “wham!” – It’s as whole as his left hand. What awe and joy he must have felt! I find myself stretching out my arm, just imagining . . . just . . . imagining.

I once heard a speaker describe trials, and she stated that there are two different kinds, those that are devastating, and those that cause inconvenience. A withered hand is an inconvenience. I know because I have one. I was born with mild cerebral palsy, resulting in weakness and minor paralysis on my left side. I walk with a limp, I have terrible balance (ask my roommate who likes to watch me tip over at the slightest bump), but the most obvious feature of my CP is my weak little “goofy part”, aka my left hand. It doesn’t do most of what I want it to do, and sometimes it gets in the way.

When I was small, I would ask my mom why I was the way I was. “Why didn’t God make me normal?” I’d say after a frustrating day when I couldn’t climb the monkey bars, or a particularly painful physical therapy session. Now I kind of wonder why it wasn’t worse; why my brain injury is an inconvenience for me, but not devastating. I’ve come to recognize that God’s finger didn’t slip when he “knit me together in my mother’s womb” (Psalm 139:13).

I believe he allowed oxygen flow to be obstructed from my developing brain (in part, at least) so that I would carry in my body the constant lifelong reminder that I am not sufficient to handle my problems. Before I was born, God knew me. He knew my personality, he knew my sinful tendencies, he knew how super-independent and self-confident I can get. So in his divine wisdom and grace, he afflicted me.

It is a gentle affliction in the grand scheme of things. I lead a nearly perfectly normal life. I work, play touch football, drive, tie my shoes. I am not bound to a wheelchair or a bed. I am not in pain. In a world full of those who suffer far worse, I know I am blessed.

As Paul was given a thorn in the flesh, and Jacob’s hip was touched by God so that he limped for the rest of his life, so my Father nudges me through my physical weakness, reminding me of my need to rely on him. I shudder to think what my life would be like without my disability. Good grief, I’m prideful and self-reliant enough as it is; what would I be with a more normal body? God knows. And if a healthy, whole brain would have brought him more glory in my life, I no doubt would have had one. But he decided a weaker body would be best.

And that’s why, after thirty-one years of living with this gentle affliction, I can echo the Psalmist in all truthfulness, “It is good“.

2 Corinthians 12:9 “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

Psalm 27:4 “One thing I have desired of the LORD, that will I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the LORD, and to inquire in His temple.”

Although I’ve known him for a long time, in reading through the Gospels recently, I found myself discovering anew the Jesus who fills their pages. Over the past months I’ve watched this Man walk and talk, love, preach, heal, die for my sins, and rise again. The word that keeps coming to my mind to describe him is “beautiful”. In our culture, that word is not often used of grown men, but the Psalmist spoke of “the beauty of the LORD”, and I think it perfectly describes God Incarnate as he is revealed in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. He is unlike any other man that we have known. I am awed by his wisdom, enthralled by his miracles, touched by his tenderness, amazed by his grace. He always knew what to say, what to do, and exactly when and how. He walked through this earthly life gracefully and completely unspoiled by the sinful world around him. And he did it for us. Such stunning love captures my heart.

Is he not beautiful?

Luke 7:48-50 “Then He said to her, ‘Your sins are forgiven.’ And those who sat at the table with Him began to say to themselves, ‘Who is this who even forgives sins?’ Then He said to the woman, ‘Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.’”

Luke 8:48 “And He said to her, ‘Daughter, be of good cheer; your faith has made you well. Go in peace.’”

Romans 5:1 “Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ,”

Philippians 4:6-7 “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”

I love the connection between faith and peace. Jesus could have told those two women in Luke, “Go in joy”, or “Go in love”, but he said, “Go in peace”. They had trusted in the correct Object, the Son of God, and this always leads to peace, first peace with God, and then the peace of God.

When I rested alone in the work of Jesus Christ, who died in my place on the cross and rose again, I was immediately accepted by God in his Son. God’s wrath no longer hangs over my head; I am his child and we are at peace. I am justified, declared righteous, in his sight.

That initial faith for my eternal salvation paves the way for the peace of God to rule in my heart moment by moment. I have a choice to trust in Jesus Christ every second of the day, to believe he is all-sufficient – to know that his grace and power are enough to handle my life. When I am trusting in an alternative object, whether it be me or some other person, there is anxiety, discontentment, and strife. When I am relying on my Savior, there is ALWAYS peace, a tranquility of heart due to confidence in the One who took care of my biggest problem – sin – on the cross, and who is capable of taking care of anything I face. That peace indeed “surpasses all understanding”, no matter what difficulties and trials are swirling around me.

“‘They shall walk, and not faint.” — Isaiah 40:31 What! Must we come down and run and walk here on this stupid, prosaic earth after these eagle flights? Yes, precisely. The eagle flight is unto that. We go up there that we may serve down here, and we never can serve down here according to God’s thought of service, until we trace the spirals of the upper air and have learned to be alone in the silent spaces with God. It is only the man who comes down from interviews with God who can touch human lives with the power of God. . . What is the “walk”? It is the everyday of life. It is the getting breakfast, dressing the children, getting them off to school; it is going down and opening the store; it is going out and feeding the herds; it is going into the study and opening the Word of God. It is whatever our appointed task may be. It is doing this all day, in heat and cold, dull days and bright days — the common life. It is this, the everyday walk, that tests and tries. Far easier is it to gather one’s energies for a swift run sometimes than it is to walk. But we have to walk; we are made to walk. We live a common life, a life of everyday duty, plain, prosaic and unbeautiful. But we may ‘walk, and not faint’ . . . under the wear and petty vexations and frictions of everyday life, only on condition that we have been ‘waiting upon God.’ The man who does that will be a reservoir of sweetness, quietness and power.”-C.I. Scofield

This is quite an amazing and meaningful picture of the ordinary life we believers have on earth. Doing the laundry, filling my gas tank, telling my speech kids for the ten thousandth time that it’s a “spoon”, not a “‘poon”: when I see that these things are God’s appointed tasks for me, and I do them in a restful, glorifying-to-him way, the dullness and commonness do not make me faint. Instead, I am filled with the greatest purpose, the greatest joy. I am honoring my Father through the life he has given me.

Lately, I’ve been reading through the gospels and meditating on Jesus’ amazing life, death, and resurrection. After reading Scofield’s words above, it struck me that before our Savior began his public ministry, he led the very definition of a normal life. For his first 30 (!) years, Jesus was absolutely ordinary. He went to school as a boy, participated in family life, learned his father’s trade. Later, having grown, he got up in the morning and went to work and synagogue. He was a typical Jewish first-century man, albeit without a trace of sin.

Still, he walked. He was ordinary, a man “of no reputation” (Philippians 2:7). There is something sweet and sacred in recognizing that the King of Glory knows what it is like to lead “the common life”, and in knowing that he can give me the strength to do the mundane in a way that brings honor to him.

It’s nearly 1:00 in the morning and I’m only up because my cough/stuffy nose won’t let me sleep. Just a cold, but it’s keeping me awake at a time I’m usually dead to the world. So here I sit, sipping herbal tea with honey, reading Matthew, thinking.

There are those verses in chapter 6 again: “Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal;  but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

In other words, don’t get attached to this world and its things. As a citizen of heaven, I should not be seeking out my comfort here, but rather striving to serve my Savior. In reality, only 2 things keep me fastened to earth at this moment: gravity and the will of God. The moment he no longer has a purpose for me in being here, I will be gone. When I get too focused on the temporal at the expense of the eternal, I would do well to remember that.

Colossians 4:2 (NAS) “Devote yourselves to prayer, keeping alert in it with an attitude of thanksgiving;”

The Greek word translated “devote” in the above verse carries the meaning of “to be steadfastly attentive unto, to give unremitting care to a thing” and to “persevere and not to faint”, according to Strong’s Concordance.

Hmm. What things am I steadfastly attentive and give unremitting care to? Here is a partial list, in no particular order:

Sleep, eating, my friends, my Kindle, my money, the Philadelphia Phillies, Katie Morrison in general.

Notice what’s missing? I attend to and care for many things, but prayer is rarely something I persevere in. (Or keep alert in!)

But if you look down through human history at the people God has used greatly to his glory, from the apostles Paul (the one giving the command above certainly led by example) and James (aka “old camel knees” because of the time spent on them in prayer), to the more modern faithful ones like Hudson Taylor and George Mueller, they all have this in common: they were devoted to prayer. It wasn’t a “before meals” thing or a quick yawn at bedtime or upon rising. They persevered in it, constantly and consistently communicating with their God; bringing concerns and needs and praising him throughout their lives. As a result of their close, yielded relationship with the Savior, he used them to spread the gospel of grace throughout the world, as well as to encourage countless saints.

Where are those who are devoted to prayer today?

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.

Actually, he cares about me. I always have known that’s true, but sometimes I see it in crystal clarity.

A few days back, it was an early morning after a long day and too short of a night. I was getting ready to head out to work, and despite my cup of Starbucks Via, my mind was still a little fuzzy around the edges. I had told myself earlier not to forget something, but there I was standing next to the kitchen table unable to remember that last crucial detail before hitting the road.

Having been contemplating  the area of prayer in my life, I suddenly realized that I could take this little detail to my Father, and ask him to help me remember. “Lord, what was it I wanted to bring with me?”

Yeah, the title up there gave it away. Popcorn. I wanted to take a bag for an afternoon snack.

Popcorn, of all things. And he answered me by bringing it to my mind as soon as I asked him. There I was, with the sovereign God of all the vast universe, discussing popcorn.

In the grand scheme of eternity, does my popcorn matter? Maybe not. But in that moment, I delighted in him who delights in every detail of my life, amazed again at his infinite love. And in the grand scheme, that matters.

Today I read an exposition of Psalm 77, one of those great psalms that begins with a view of life from a discouraging human perspective and moves to an uplifting divine perspective. Asaph opens the poem in mental anguish. We don’t know the situation, but his agony culminates with questioning God’s mercy and grace in verses 8-9. This man only sees his circumstances and is disappointed with God.

A shift occurs in verse 10 and 11, when the psalmist determines to pull his focus from his wretched lot and put his thoughts on his great (v.12-13), powerful (v.14-19), yet tender and gentle (v.20) God.

It’s an amazing transition, and a good lesson about having a correct viewpoint. Asaph’s circumstances did not change in the psalm, but his attitude sure did, because he changed what he was fixed upon.

Have you ever seen a baby with a ceiling fan? Some kids are fascinated by the spinning machines. When their eyes are fixed upon the fan, nothing else exists in their world besides those whirring blades. You can be cooing and waving your arms, even yelling their name, but it makes no difference. The ceiling fan is where it is at for them.

So it is with us believers. Our minds can either be obsessed with our trials, as Asaph’s was in the miserable first half of Psalm 77, or we can fix our eyes on our mighty Jesus, the Author and Finisher of our faith (Hebrews 12:2).

When our heart’s gaze is consumed with the correct Object, and we bring all our difficulties immediately to him to care for as he sees fit, our mental restlessness will disappear, being replaced by the peace that passes all understanding. (Philippians 4:7)

What or Who is your mind fixed on today?

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.

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?

I like to play Words With Friends. For the uninitiated, it’s an interactive online Scrabble knockoff that can be played on any number of devices, from computers to phones. What I like, and hate, about the phone version in particular, is the ability to zoom in on a certain section of the board as the player attempts to put up a (potentially) high scoring word. Actually, the zoom is automatic as soon as you begin placing letters.

This is great – I get to see a little piece of Words With Friends real estate up close and personal. And yet, I am sometimes so zoned into that small area, I don’t pay attention to the rest of the board. I excitedly play my 23 point word, only to zoom out and see I’ve perfectly set up my opponent for a triple word score. He or she then predictably drops “quiz” for 350 points. Okay, perhaps that triple word total is a slight exaggeration, but aaargh. I should have gotten the big picture! 

Hmmm. Guess Words With Friends isn’t the only area of my life in which I get myopic (near-sighted). All I see are the grains of sand and miss the glorious shore.When I focus on me, my agenda, my details, I too frequently forget Him.

Thinking on details is necessary, and any small thing can and should be done in a God-honoring way. I spell check my blog entries, I brush my teeth, I play football with friends on a “warm” January afternoon, I file my tax returns. But these things should not keep me from zooming back out, and in all the details put together, seeing Jesus Christ, the One who is my life itself (Colossians 3:4).

God is with us.”  John Wesley’s last earthly words ring joyfully in my heart today. Though I cannot see, touch, or hear Him, and am often distracted by things and activities that fill my physical senses, His presence with me is the most real reality, the truest truth. 

The one true God, my Creator and my Savior, dwells within me. Always. I agree, Mr. Wesley; in this changeful, lonely world, that IS the best of all.

Matthew 28:20b “And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”