Squinting in a Fog

Today will go down in history as the Day of the Eclipse. Supposedly, today’s eclipse will be the last one I’ll be able to witness until roughly around 2044. So I definitely wanted to take advantage of this one.

There I was in a prime viewing spot with proper eclipse glasses in hand — later on face when the actual event took place. The only issue was the continual cloudy sky that prevented me from getting a really good glimpse of this solar event.

For a moment, I didn’t think I’d be able to see anything. But as the cloud covering moved across the sky, the eclipse peeked briefly though those clouds from time to time. I was able to see, but not very clearly, so the whole experience was not as good as 2017 when I experienced the whole thing from start to finish.

Life is like that. The Bible speaks about how we now see through a mirror dimly. We experience God through the haze of our own sin and the limitations of our own finite frailty. We are disconnected from the big picture, only able to catch brief glimpses that are sometimes obscured as if by fog or clouds.

But one day, the Bible says, we will see face to face and will know fully as we are fully known by God instead of only knowing in part. We will see our story as God sees it now. Then we will understand. Then we will worship.

“We don’t yet see things clearly. We’re squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won’t be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We’ll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!” (1 Corinthians 13:12, The Message).

Longing for Simpler Times

I’ve been in a nostalgic mood a lot lately, thinking about people who have passed and remembering places like my grandmother’s house on Dee Road in Memphis. Sometimes I have a longing to go back to those people and moments that is so strong that it feels overwhelming.

Maybe it’s because I’m really wanting to go back to when times were simpler. At least they were for me. I didn’t have so many cares or concerns. I knew my parents loved me and would take care of me. I knew my family loved me and watched out for me.

I see now that the times weren’t necessarily simpler, but my life was simpler. Because my parents did their job, I didn’t have to grow up carrying the proverbial weight of the world, dealing with issues beyond my years. I could be a kid, safe and secure from all alarms.

I do think the world seemed less chaotic than it does now. Maybe that was because of the absence of 24-hour news channels constantly telling me how bad the world is. Maybe it’s because I was blissfully unaware of so much of the evil around me. Maybe it’s just that the world is trending down as we get closer to Jesus’ return.

I do know that the Jesus I asked into my heart when I was little is the same one who is with me now. His promises are the same. His presence with me is the same, though I am probably more aware of it — and my need of it. I am just as loved and cared for and cherished and secure as I was back then because it was really Jesus all along who was my protector and provider.

So maybe those places and people I miss were glimpses of something greater that I will only ever fully realize in heaven. Those were like the appetizer before a really great feast. My best days aren’t behind me — they’re ahead and coming soon.

A New(er) Car

One of my favorite parts of being sick and staying home from school (not that there were many) was getting to watch Bob Barker and The Price is Right. I’m telling my age when I say Bob Barker and not Drew Carey.

The absolute best part of any episode was when they were revealing the prize the contestants would be bidding on and the announcer proclaimed, “It’s a NEW CAR!” Then everyone in the crowd went absolutely bananas.

I finally broke down and bought a new car. Well, technically a newer car since it’s a 2018, not a 2024. But fear not, loyal fans, it’s still a Jeep.

I drove home in a 2018 Jeep Wrangler. I instantly felt 33% cooler. Then later on I accidentally turned on my emergency flashers and had to consult the manual for how to turn them off and lost all my cool points. But I love it.

In a way, it’s like learning to drive all over again. So many functions are in different places that I have to think about how to roll down the windows or turn up the airflow through the car. I have to remember to use the running board because the new car is higher off the ground than the old one. But I’m thankful.

I have a car with a working speedometer where all the windows roll down every time. I have a car where I can push a button and it starts (as long as I have the key on my person or in the car). It’s blowing my late 1900s brain.

Now comes the part where I sell the trusty old Jeep. There will be some sadness (and possibly tears) when I say goodbye to the loyal Red Sled that has served me well for 11 years and been a faithful every day vehicle for 27 years. No car will ever be as good to me as that one has been.

But I’m thankful that I will have photographs and memories to look back on. I can remember all the people who rode in that car who are no longer present in this world but more alive than ever on those streets of gold in heaven.

But now I have to go study up on the manual to figure out how to work this new Jeep.

Growing Through Obedience

“‘Aslan” said Lucy “you’re bigger’.
‘That is because you are older, little one’ answered he.
‘Not because you are?’
‘I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger.’ (C.S. Lewis, Prince Caspian).”

There’s one part in Prince Caspian where Aslan calls out to Lucy to follow him, and to get the others to do the same. The catch is that Lucy is the only one who can see or hear him. The others will have to take her word for it.

That’s the moment where Lucy chooses to trust in Aslan and obey him, even though it might feel like she’s the only one. She has to go even if she goes alone.

That’s what genuine faith looks like. Faithfulness and obedience can be lonely sometimes, especially when so many others are too busy trying to blend in and not make waves to truly follow Jesus. When you are obedient, sometimes your biggest critics will come from inside the Church, not outside.

William Carey, the father of modern missions, faced opposition from other clergymen for wanting to take the gospel to India. Imagine that. Pastors and church leaders not wanting to take the gospel to unreached people. But it happened.

William Carey’s faithfulness made it possible for others to take the gospel around the world, so that heaven could be filled with voices from every tribe and tongue, every skin color and hair color, gathered around the throne as depicted in the book of Revelation.

Obedience might mean standing in the minority for what’s right versus what’s popular. William Penn once said, “Right is right, even if everyone is against it, and wrong is wrong, even if everyone is for it.”

In Prince Caspian, Lucy gets the rest to follow her. Some were more willing than others to go, but they all went. None of them could see Aslan until after they had stepped out in faith, but once they were committed to following, they could see him leading the way.

That’s the way faith is sometimes. You can’t see God until you obey what He’s told you to do. Obedience leads to faith being made sight.

A Beautiful Picture of Death

I’ve always loved the story about the doctor and the patient who was asking about death. Not that I obsess over death, but I was reminded again of this little story that sums up faith so very neatly. Maybe it will speak to you in your grieving.

“A sick man turned to his doctor as he was preparing to
Leave the examination room and said,
‘Doctor, I am afraid to die.
Tell me what lies on the other side.’
Very quietly, the doctor said, ‘I don’t know..’
‘You don’t know? You’re, a God fearing person,
and don’t know what’s on the other side?’
The doctor was holding the handle of the door;
On the other side came a sound of scratching and whining,
And as he opened the door, a dog sprang into the room
And leaped on him with an eager show of gladness.
Turning to the patient, the doctor said,
‘Did you notice my dog?
He’s never been in this room before.
He didn’t know what was inside.
He knew nothing except that his master was here,
And when the door opened, he sprang in without fear.
I know little of what is on the other side of death,
But I do know one thing…
I know my Master is there and that is enough’”

Heaven won’t be wonderful because of golden harps or white robes or streets of gold.

Heaven won’t be so desirable for mansions or biblical heroes or anything like that.

The best part of Heaven, the part I long for someday, is that Jesus, God made flesh, will be there.

And that will be enough.

Thoughts on Grief

“I don’t believe grief passes away. It has its time and place forever. More time is added to it; it becomes a story within a story” (W. Berry).

Don’t worry. No one I know has died lately.

I was just missing my old cat Lucy a bit today after seeing an old video of her and ran across this memory on Facebook.

How true it is.

Grief never passes away. You never completely get over the sadness.

I heard that grief and loss is somewhat like losing an arm or a leg. You don’t go back to the way you were before, but you can learn to live with a new normal.

Even though I haven’t been touched by grief lately, I know several who have. I also know that this life is fleeting, so grief is inevitable for any of us who haven’t completely closed off their hearts to love.

I also know that we serve a God who in Jesus is completely acquainted with grief. Isaiah called Him a Man of sorrows.

This same Jesus also took the sting out of grief and death when He burst out of the tomb on that Easter Sunday morning. Now those of us who belong to Jesus don’t have to grieve as those who have no hope. We have hope.

I still don’t know how it works with animals. I’d like to think there’s that rainbow bridge and I’ll see Lucy again one day. I do know that all the best parts of what we had will live on in my memory and what awaits in heaven will be far better than anything I could ever possibly imagine.

In the meantime, grief and loss are a part of life. Right now, I wish they were not. One day, I know for certain that they won’t be.

 

So Much Sadness

I found out today that a friend had to tell her son that his new puppy had died tragically. As I read the words, it was almost like someone punched me in the gut.

There’s so much sadness lately in the world. Too many people are having to say goodbye to loved ones, whether people or pets. Too many parents are having to bury their children. Too many children are watching their parents grow old and feeble.

Even the best moments are tinged with regret and sadness. It’s almost as if there was a longing inside of us that nothing in this world could satisfy. Many places and things and experiences come close but none of them quite fulfill the inner hunger.

The beauty of the gospel is that sadness is temporary. For us who believe, mourning may last for a night, but joy does come in the morning. We may go out weeping, but we will come back rejoicing.

There’s a lot of tragedy and evil in the world that I do not understand. I know that humanity and creation are fallen and the effects of that fall can be felt everywhere. What we see and hear and touch is not what was meant to be and is not what truly is or what will be.

That doesn’t discount the sadness, which at times is too deep for words and sometimes too deep for tears. The ultimate  hope of all who believe is that Jesus and the hope of the resurrection mean that sadness, loss, and death do not have the final word.

There’s nothing beautiful and noble that won’t be resurrected in the age to come and there’s no sorrow that can’t be redeemed and transformed into something glorious.

The hope of the gospel is that joy is victor and that Jesus has already overcome.

 

A Little Hint of Heaven

I don’t know why, but when the weather turns cooler I find myself getting more nostalgic for the people and places of my past. Today, I caught myself wishing I could revisit my grandparents’ old house on Alcy Road in Memphis.

Then it occurred to me.  Maybe I will. Not in the sense of actually driving back to Memphis and going to that neighborhood. Maybe in another way.

Perhaps all the places you and I loved back when and long for were glimpses of what heaven will be like. In The Chronicles of Narnia, when Peter, Lucy, Edmund, and the rest get to the New Narnia, one of them says that all the reason that he loved certain parts of the Old Narnia is that they reminded him of the new. The Old Narnia itself was a shadow and a copy of the New Narnia, the Real and True Narnia.

For me, I have a fondness for Union University. In the past, I had times when I even dreamed of going back and what it would be like. In this case, I really was able to go back, only to discover that the campus has so radically changed that I recognize very little of it. The people that made it so great weren’t there.

I see now that it wasn’t the actual brick-and-mortar buildings that I loved. It was the memories housed in those places — memories of people and events that shaped who I am now. The best memories were the tiniest glimpses into eternity, almost of heaven breaking through.

You can’t go back. Not really. You can never recreate a moment once it’s gone. You can cherish the memory of it and recognize that you saw a little bit of heaven in it. You can devote yourself to living every day to the fullest in pursuit of making new memories rather than living in the past and dwelling solely on old ones.

 

Darkness Defeated

  
I used to be absolutely terrified of the dark. As a child, I suffered though nightmares and anxiety and phobias, all associated with darkness. I even dreaded going to sleep at night because of my fears.

Eventually, I overcame those fears through the normal process of growing up. That and I would cram every stuffed animal I owned in the bed with me when I went to bed at night.

Lately it occurred to me that if a single candle can dispel all the darkness in any given room, then darkness is revealed to be powerless and impotent.

Jesus stated that He is the light of the world. He has already overcome darkness and everything associated with it. In fact, He has already overcome anything we could ever possibly be afraid of.

That’s a very comforting notion in a world where anxieties run rampant and fear rules the major part of the lives of the majority. In fact, both the news and social media are driven by fear.

Fear has no place in God’s economy. Perfect love casts out fear. The more one truly knows and understands how much he or she is loved, the less place there is for fear, because love and fear cannot co-exist within the same human heart. One displaces the other.

The ultimate destiny of darkness is defeat. There is no scenario where darkness ultimately overcomes the light. The only way darkness wins at all is in the absolute absence of light. The only way evil wins in this world is when good stays silent and hidden.

The final victory of light over dark is found in heaven where there is no need of sun or moon or stars, because Jesus is the light there. There is no more night or darkness or shadows because there is no place where the light is not present.

Here, we are the light of the world. May we not only find deliverance from our own anxieties about darkness but be instrumental in helping others overcome as well.