Eternity in our hearts by Mary Folkerts

 

This morning, I had a front-row seat to what happens when you're so distracted with life that you miss what's important.

I was sitting on my back deck with my coffee and devotions when suddenly there was a thunk, and a poor birdie's flight plan was abruptly aborted. Too preoccupied with her to-do list,  she assumed incorrectly that my window was clear sailing and smashed her little body headlong into it. There she sat on my deck, stunned by the sudden change of plans, still clutching to the straw in her beck. It took awhile, but she finally flew away, rerouted into cleared airspace. 

Isn't that just like us? We sail through life like busy little birds, flying here and there. Busy, oh so busy. We have important things to do; the longer the list, the more important we think we are. 

We create our flight plans and to-do lists, filling our days to distraction. And sometimes God places a pane of resistance in our path to slow our pace, allowing us to remember that all our striving will never award us the thing we are after. What our hearts desire most can not be found in running hard after material possessions, power, wealth or even good deeds. It's in the slowing down and reflection that we catch a  glimpse of the reality we were created for.

It's in the slowing down and reflection 

that we catch a  glimpse of the reality 

we were created for.

Relishing in the beauty of nature and marvelling at the miracle of life, these quiet moments awaken in us a deep longing that is hard to place. As C.S. Lewis wrote in his book "Mere Christianity," "If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world."

All the good this life has to offer is meaningless if we don't view it in light of the eternity God has placed in us. We were created to live forever, enjoying the presence of God and all His beauty, but sin and self-will interrupted that plan, and death became our reality. But through Christ's atoning sacrifice, that eternal life we inherently long for can once again be our future!  

The inexplicable awe and exhale we experience when gazing at a vivid sunset sky are the stirrings and yearnings for more than this world can offer. Something outside of ourselves, something only God can redeem. Our creatively crafted words are hollow if they don't point back to the One who can restore eternity to longing souls.  

Lord, let me not be too busy with all the good things of life to miss the echo of eternity that you have placed in my heart. Remind me that my words and my life must ultimately give others the hope of eternity!

Writing Goals Of The Unseen Kind - Alan Anderson

I considered my writing goals for 2019 in late Nov. 2018. In early Dec. my “goals” took on a more personal and sobering nature. Once we entered this New Year I revised my goals to make them more realistic for what I believe I can accomplish.

I believe in goals, of course, but I leave room in my mind for the unexpected, for life twists, for those experiences causing me to review my “goals.” In this context the beautiful words of 2Corinthians: 4:16-18 encourages me to embrace why I write.

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed every day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, because we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen; for the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”

I write to reach the hearts of people. When life wears a person down causing them to be weary and heavy laden there is still hope. There are still those things “unseen,” an eternal goal to lead our way.

As I entered 2019 I did so with a weary heart. A woman I admired was dying. Although I never had the privilege of meeting her in person I loved who she was. She devoted her life to coming alongside people who were dying and teaching others how to do this. I loved her writing, her teaching and her down to earth approach to the compassionate care of people.

She died on Jan. 18 and I wrote a memorial to her on Jan. 19 in my blog ScarredJoy. Writing this blog post became an immediate goal for me. I share this excerpt with you.

“It was an odd sensation one day early in Dec. 2018. I planned on sending an email to Dr. Megory Anderson of the Sacred Dying Foundation in San Francisco. We exchanged emails every so often since I enrolled in her Sacred Dying Vigil Training in 2015. Before I composed my email message I noticed heart-wrenching words on the Sacred Dying Facebook group page. Megory suffered a massive stroke and was receiving comfort care at a hospital in San Francisco” (Anderson, Alan, “Megory: Loved & Missed, https://scarredjoy.ca, WordPress, Jan. 19. 2019)

Megory’s devastating stroke then her death caused me to reevaluate the writing goals I had laid. It sounds a bit odd to phrase it this way, but it is true. My writing comes from my heart of being with people during difficult times in their lives. It was natural for me to reconsider my writing goals in a heartfelt way. My goals have to be meaningful and make a lasting difference in the lives of real people. This is my hope for any writing goal I have.

As a writer who is a Christian I have eternity in my heart in my writing. I have come alongside many people facing the end of their lives. People of all kinds of backgrounds and beliefs. People who suffered momentary afflictions and were aware of this. They died with unseen eternal things to look forward to.

As writers who have eternity in common we can make a difference in the lives of our readers. We can also encourage each other in our writing goals. Let us not lose heart in spite of knowing “our outer nature is wasting away.” We have an eternal goal in mind. It is a precious goal we look toward.

https://scarredjoy.ca/

Time: A Vanishing Dream? by Sharon Espeseth

How difficult it is for our finite minds to comprehend how short life on earth really is, especially compared to the infinite years eternity offers! Recently, I saw an object lesson on this contrast. A deacon at Holy Trinity Catholic Church west of Edmonton took out a spool of cord from a shelf under the pulpit. Holding one end of the cord, The Deacon gave the spool to a young altar server. As instructed, the girl walked backwards as far as she could, unwinding the string as she went.

The Deacon then pinched about a centimetre of the cord he was holding to give us an inkling of how short life on earth is compared to eternal life. Admitting limitations in showing correct proportions, the speaker did, however, make his point, and it has stayed with me. Life on earth, even for our long-living elders is short. We occasionally need this message, so we are conscious about walking wisely on this earth in preparation for the life that is to come.

The gospel that Sunday was the parable Jesus told about the rich man who lived luxuriously while the poor man, Lazarus, lay at his gate longing for even the crumbs fallen from the rich man's table. One lived in comfort while the other suffered misery. When the two men passed from this life, their comfort levels were completely reversed. Getting Abraham's attention, the rich man begged for a mere drop of water to be delivered by Lazarus. Abraham pointed out that no one could cross the great chasm dividing their respective dwellings.

Throughout The Sermon on the Mount, recorded in Matthew, Chapter 5 to 7, Jesus tells us how to live our faith. He reminds us to store up treasures in heaven rather than on earth. He asks, "Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?" Although we don't need to worry about how short life is, we do need to be aware that life on earth is finite and that we will be accountable for what we do with our time while we're here.

In the back of an old hymnal, my dad had noted an old Swedish song. While reflecting on The Deacon's sermon and Scripture passages along this line, I thought of a song written in 1874 by C. A. Stenholm. Here's the first verse.


"Time is as swift as a vanishing dream,
Year after year rolls away.
Life rushes on like a fast flowing stream,
Short are the hours of its day."

I think Dad was about my age when he would have written the title in Swedish at the back of the 1950 edition of this hymnal. Though Dad has passed, I can see him in my mind's eye solemnly singing this song. If I adjust my memory's lens, I can see my Grandpa Augustson pondering the  words while singing in Swedish.                                                                                                      
"Be careful, then, how you live," Paul tells the Ephesians, "not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the Lord's will is."

No matter what our age, we need to know our days are numbered and God has work for us to do. Let's be thankful that today, and every day, is a day God has made for us.

I will close with the following prayer from Psalm 71, which is generally attributed to David.

"Even when I am old and gray, do not forsake me, O God, 
till I declare your power to the next generation,
your might to all who are to come."

Clock Sky Image by Luigi Diamanti for FreeDigitalPhotos.net

THANKFULNESS by Bryan Norford

Thankfulness is at least joy and gratitude for what we have. We are thankful for this life and its abundance, and supremely for the greatest gift of all, new life in Jesus Christ.

But Scripture also declares that thankfulness is the bulwark against a declining humanity. “For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him, but their thinking became futile and their foolish hearts were darkened,” Romans 1:21.

My first reaction? How can being thankful guard our lives? Paul asserts here that all our thoughts, ideas, or philosophies, become futile—ineffective, misdirected—without thankfulness to God. Of course, thankfulness flows from belief in, and worship of, God.

If, as we believe, God exists and is relevant to life, then any opposing belief is a poor foundation for life. If we begin buttoning a shirt or blouse with the wrong button, every button is out of place. So it is with life. If we build on a false assumption, all our thinking is disordered and life is senseless.

Thankfulness to God recognizes He is our source and supply. That mindset directs our thinking aright through all the events of earthly life. But of greater consequence, it will direct us through death, the gateway to eternal life. “For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal,” 2 Corinthians 4:18.

Any idea that falls short of this cosmic scheme is paltry and eventually powerless. It may founder somewhere in life, but will certainly fail in death. For death is where the rubber meets the road and our beliefs stand or fall.

We are finally thankful that God is beyond life. We are thankful for His power over the unseen, outside of earthly space and time. Thankfulness places us on a secure path for life and eternity.

  









Bryan Norford

For Fewer Ahead Than Behind, I'm Thankful — Lynda Schultz

Our pastor resigned last week. Gone are the days (for which I am thankful) when all of the rest of the staff would have been required to resign as well. This brief descent into madness was meant to give the "new guy" a chance to form his own team. The intentions were good even though the chaos created by massive resignations was a bit hard on the church!

In any case, I mentioned to our elders that whoever they interviewed should be allowed the option of a grace period after his arrival during which he could decide whether or not the staff he had inherited was the right "fit" for his vision. I'm on staff so I was talking about myself and it was only later that I realized that the elder to whom I had spoken thought I was worried about my job security.

I'm 62—today. Given the trend in finding a senior pastor, it will likely be about two years before we find the man that God has for our congregation. If God chooses to parachute him in long before the stats say he's supposed to arrive I'll be more than happy. But supposing that we are as average as the rest of the world, I'll be 64 by the time the new man comes. It will take him a while to decide whether or not I "fit" and it may take me a while to figure out if I want to "fit." By that time I'll probably be 65 and about as unconcerned about job security as anyone can be.

I really was sincere in my concern that our new pastor, whoever he is and whenever he turns up, have the freedom to choose the people he works with. I honestly was not concerned about job security.

It sounds odd that I am thankful for being 62, and for being able to say honestly that there is a certain freedom that comes with age. It's the freedom to look back and have an "aha" moment when I am reminded of how the Lord has blessed me and kept me over all the years I have known Him. The remembrance of past privileges overwhelms me still. But with age also comes the freedom to look ahead and anticipate other blessings. I'm a year closer to eternity and that's wonderful, but before I get there I can look forward to freedom 65 (I missed "Freedom 55") and the possibility of doing some of the things that I don't have the time as a "working woman" to do now.

Perhaps I'm still a bit naive—astounding at this stage of my life—but I think the best is yet to come. I don't know what it will look like but I believe that on this side of heaven there are still mountains to climb, experiences to savour, a less hectic pace to enjoy, and maybe even some books to write. Aging doesn't signal the end of the road; it marks a different road. And the best thing about it is that, thanks to Christ, all the roads, whatever they end up looking like, will lead home.

A Distant Green — Lynda Schultz

Sometimes we don't see the fulfillment of our dreams or the results of all our work. In the end, it doesn't really matter. The best is yet to come. Take Moses for example…

A DISTANT GREEN

Horeb, Sinai, Nebo—I’m glad this is the last mountain I’ll have to climb.

The old man chuckled to himself as he picked his way through the rocks. His breath was ragged, but anticipation gave him strength as he took the last step that would bring him to his destination at the summit. Tomorrow would be a new day and he wouldn’t be complaining about mountains. He doubted that he’d even have to worry about coming down off of this particular one. He sensed that this would be his final trip, as surely as he sensed the presence of God around him.

The day was clear. He looked out, shading his eyes from the glare of the sun. He could see it all—all that Yahweh had promised the Hebrews from long before he was born. It was so…green.

Ah, now I know I’ve spent too long in the wilderness—to be so impressed by something as simple as a colour!

A millisecond of regret clouded his thoughts. The impatience of his youth, that rashness he’d thought had been left far behind him at the foot of a dead Egyptian, had caught him unprepared as an old man. Two blows, and unwise words that were an affront to God’s holiness, had cost him his walk through this beautiful land another generation would now enjoy.

Still, it would have been something to walk over there in all that greenery, to touch the ground You promised to give to our Father Abraham’s children.

“Moses, my friend.”

The old man wasn’t startled. Once upon a time he would have jumped at the sound of God speaking to him. Not anymore. After all this time he heard God’s voice even when Yahweh wasn’t speaking out loud.

“Yes, my Lord.” Moses waited. It was not for mere man, even the friend of God, to speak before his Maker had his say.

“This is it. This is the land I promised to give to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. They were all men of faith, my friend, in spite of their frailties. They roamed around, living in tents, all the while believing that this day would come. I told them their descendants would return to this land, build houses, plant crops, found cities.”

His audience of one nodded his head slowly.

“I wanted you at least to see it, even though you won’t cross the Jordan with the others.”

“I appreciate that, Lord, I honestly do.”

It was an end, but it was also a beginning.

“So, they’re going to make it this time?”

Israel’s soon-to-be-ex-leader could almost hear God chuckle at the hint of doubt in His servant’s voice.

“This time they will.”

With just the tiniest twinge of envy, Moses thought about two men who had been with him from the beginning of this journey who were going to be especially delighted to see the end of this journey.

“Caleb and Joshua are finally going to get their vindication. They told the others that giants and fortified cities wouldn’t be any problem for You,” he remarked as he mentally annexed: And now those “others” won’t get the chance to find out how true that is.

“I heard that, Moses.”

The old man smiled.

It was as though two men stood side by side perfectly attuned to each other and each comfortable in the presence of the other. Anyone observing would think he saw only one old man who seemed to be talking to himself. Moments passed in silence until…

“It’s time, Moses.”

A wind, like the breath of angels’ wings, stirred around the old man’s head. He took one last look at Canaan and then turned his eyes toward what he couldn’t see, but what he knew was there. The brilliant green of the Promised Land faded and gave way before the overwhelming glory of another place.

Face to face this time, Lord?

"Truly face to face this time, my friend."

Possibilities - M. Laycock

It seems that all the earth is waiting. Spring has been slow in coming, the warming breath of a stronger sun somehow delayed. Ice still skims the pond across from our home. The geese seem puzzled, flying low but not touching down. Each day we hope for warmer temperatures, each day there is disappointment. But the clouds are looking more like the burgeoning mounds heavy with rain and here and there a sprout of green tells us the season is unfolding. Soon it will break forth, resplendent in green. Soon spring will be a reality, not just a promise.

Last Monday, lying on the cruciform table in a hospital's operating room, I prayed and wondered about waking up face to face with my creator. I thought about all the promises He has made to us about eternity, the possibility of living always in His presence. On that day, the possibility had never before been so real.

"There are always risks with surgery," my doctor had said. As the anaesthesiologist approached I stared at the sets of gleaming lights and gave myself, once again, into the hands of Jesus.

I woke a few hours later on a respirator in the ICU, my hands tied down so I wouldn't attempt to yank the tubes from my throat. Anaphylactic shock required intubation. One of the risks - being allergic to the radioactive blue dye they inject to find the sentinel node in the armpit, which they test to determine if the cancer has spread.

I was thankful for a medical team that was quick to respond; thankful that I woke; thankful to see my husband standing beside my bed; thankful the sentinel node is not cancerous. And then all the "what ifs" began to flow through my mind ... what if the intubation wasn't done quickly enough? What if I had died there in that sterile OR? I believe I would have been instantly standing face to face with Jesus, so the what ifs were not so much disturbing as intriguing. Like the reality of the signs of spring, I know what's to come. Someday.

But the time has been delayed. I still stand on the seemingly firm soil of this earth. God has plans for me still, it would seem. So I look to the future, look to His hand to guide, His Spirit to move, His peace to engulf me as it has continually since hearing the fear-ridden word, cancer. I look and see the new sprouts of green that tell me the promises are real. Life in His presence is possible, now, and someday ... then, when all the possibilities become reality.