“Things will get better” and “there is hope” may be true, But sometimes these words are like sugar for a cavity too. For, life is not gentle to hopes built on cliches and decorative sand, And in a storm, some hopes have no legs with which to stand.
I am no stranger to seeing hopes battered and shattered, And the remnants remaining blown far and scattered. Some have disintegrated in slow and steady drifts, While others have succumbed to sudden circumstantial shifts.
Either way, hope deferred makes the heart gravely sick, And the progression of that disease can be scarily quick. “Stay hopeful” is easy to say, but in the valley, it is hard to do. Especially when it seems like you’re trapped rather than passing through.
Yet, in the desolate places, I have discovered I am not alone. You are with me in the darkness and I am not on my own. Your hands are skilled to make broken and cynical people whole, And therefore, I can say that Your hope is still the anthem of my soul.
You are faithful and you will not put me to shame, Nor will you quench this weary, smoldering flame. Though the wind still rages and many days seem dark as night, Your hope remains faithful, shining like a candle oh so bright.
This poem was inspired in part by Switchfoot’s song “Hope is the Anthem” as well as my own personal experiences, especially relating to the sudden death of my dad. I hope and pray it is an encouragement for you in your own valley.
Lord, some days it feels like you’re so far away, And on those days, I am overcome with doubt and dismay. Does Your perfect love really cast out fear? Did I misunderstand the promise that You would stay near?
You said “I am with you” and I took You at Your word, Even though many voices say those words are absurd. I believe, Lord, but help my unbelief too! It is so easy to look at the waves around instead of You.
Troubles without number surround me now and I cannot see, I am weary and my heart faints and fails within me. The darkness is closing in, but I know I cannot hide from Your sight, So here I am again, calling for Your help tonight.
Even in my distress, I know where my help comes from, Though I do not understand all the ways it can come. My faith feels weak but by His mercy I still seek, And so He draws near and in grace chooses to speak:
“I am with you in the valley, the mountain top, and the distance between, In the joy, in the pain, and in the mundane routine. I know you, I see you, and I will not leave, You need only be still and still believe.
Even in the darkness, when everything is far from alright, Do you see how the shadows prove that there is light? So too, My love remains present and true, Even when you struggle to keep it in view.
I am with you even in moments of deep doubt, Standing on the water, reaching my hand out. When you are weak, I will remain strong, And when you cannot walk, I will carry you along.
Your fears may be fierce, but they do not get the final word, My love will cast them out just like you have heard. By My grace, dear one, you are reconciled, And nothing can separate you now, oh weary child!
In these waters, I am with you so you can stand! Even though you cannot now understand. You are mine, and mine you’ll always be, Seek me now, even when you cannot see.”
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, And man dwelled in the garden without façade. But sin shattered communion like glass beyond repair, And sorrow became our inherited share.
Yet even on that day when all was made broken, A promise of hope was firmly spoken. For Love would not abandon His creation, And so, He planned a way for salvation.
His promise was passed down through prophets of old, Yet in time, the hope of many grew cold. It seemed as if God were no longer there, And if He was, perhaps He didn’t care.
Yet when God seemed silent and far away, He sent messengers into the world to pave the way. Emmanuel was coming into our mess! Light would shine again in the deep darkness.
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among the broken, Fulfilling what God Himself had long ago spoken. But He came in what many deemed a pitiful sight, Not robed in royal splendor nor with weapons to fight.
Indeed, He entered in one of the most vulnerable states! For He came to draw near to those in desperate, dire straits. Grief and affliction were His chosen lot. And He carried our sorrows though we esteemed him not.
By His presence, grace was made known, And by His blood, God’s mercy shown. On Him, our transgressions and iniquity were laid, So our insurmountable debt could be finally paid.
Communion was restored for all who would believe, And a promise was given that He would not leave. Emmanuel, God with us, to the age’s end! Our Savior, brother, and truest friend.
Centuries have passed, yet His promise and presence remain, And He is still with us through every sorrow and pain. God has not left us nor will He go away, Emmanuel who was is still Emmanuel today.
This past weekend, I went to a young adult conference. I was admittedly very cynical and a little anxious about it, but I went anyways. I have to say I am glad I did.
The final session was supposed to be about authenticity in missions, but the speaker (Miles Fidell) felt led by the Holy Spirit to completely change the subject after the first session that had taken place the night before. He changed his talk to the topic of anxiety, using John 10: 1-18 (Jesus as the Good Shepherd) and Psalm 23 as the major scriptural references. He started the session with a lot of talk about sheep. He discussed how sheep are defenseless in the face of predators and not particularly smart when it comes to survival. Sheep need a good caretaker to ensure that they eat, drink, and don’t become paralyzed under the weight of unshorn wool. Like sheep, we, too, need a Good Shepherd to lead us. We need Jesus. When we admit that we are not in control and that we are like sheep who need a Shepherd, there is a peace unlike any that the world offers. The Good Shepherd takes care of all the things that make us anxious in the best ways like only he can.
At this point, I really couldn’t help but smile and laugh quietly from my seat. First, this speaker was talking about anxiety when he had not originally planned to. Anxiety is an enemy that has a stronghold in my life right now. Anxiety almost kept me from going to the conference. Anxiety about work-related stuff and the future led to two complete breakdowns in the week leading up to the conference. Anxiety impacts my work, my sleep, my relationships, my energy levels, my faith, and every other aspect of my life. Second, he was talking about sheep. I currently work at a museum with two flocks of sheep. I have more pictures of sheep on my phone and computer than any normal person should have. I have spent time in a sheep pen, trying to film them even though they kept trying to get away from me, the scary stranger who invaded their pen. I have seen the farmers shear the sheep and I have seen the wool cleaned, carded, dyed, and spun into yarn. I may not have grown up on a farm or in an agricultural society, but I am very familiar with sheep.
Reflecting on the message after the fact, I really couldn’t help but think of our sheep at work. Every afternoon at around 3:00, our main flock of sheep is let out of their fenced-in enclosure and they run across the Village common to their nighttime home in the barn. There, they are sheltered, fed, and kept safe from the predators that lurk about at night. The sheep are familiar with this routine. If someone approaches the gate around 2:30 or so, they all come up to the gate, expecting it to be opened. Those unfamiliar with this daily routine (mainly, young lambs in the spring) simply follow those who do know the routine. It’s a sight to see:
While the sheep are familiar with this daily routine and they are going to a good thing (that is, food and shelter), occasionally they get distracted. Once on a beautiful spring day, we had a great crowd of visitors in the museum, many more people than usual. When one of the farmers opened the gate, the sheep ran out but some of them (especially the younger ones) got distracted by all the people around them (many of whom were laughing and squealing in excitement at the sight). They dispersed all over the town common, not really seeming to know where they were going. The farmers had to run after the sheep and carry some of them all the way to the barn where they would be safe.
How often are we like these distracted sheep? We know that our Shepherd (that is, Jesus) leads us to good things (the bread of life, protection from the evil one, etc.) but we get distracted by the circumstances around us. We see the situations in our homes, workplaces, neighborhoods, and world or we compare ourselves to others and we lose our focus. We flee. We run from the path that our Shepherd has for us. We run in the opposite direction of the truest food and the shelter that he wants us to be in. We run away from what is gold and chase after what is fool’s gold. We run after plans, individualistic paths, and glimmers of what the world calls freedom. We run away and we do not usually realize that we are running towards destruction.
If the farmers didn’t go after the sheep who had gone astray all over the common, those sheep would likely not survive for long. They certainly would not thrive. Though it is a major blow to our pride, the same can be said of us. Left alone and to our own devices, we can’t survive for long. The evil one will eventually overtake us. We are like prey to be devoured either now or later. If we do manage to survive for a little while, we certainly will not thrive. Jesus came so we could have life and life abundant. Apart from him, true life is not possible. Thankfully, our Savior is also a Shepherd who cares deeply for his sheep, so much he laid his life down for them, knows each one by name, and will not lose a single one. He goes after the one that is lost and brings it safely to the fold.
“So Jesus again said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, I am the door of the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the door. If anyone enters by me, he will be saved and will go in and out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.
(John 10: 7-11, ESV)
Sheep can also be a bit stubborn in their running away and ignorance. This past spring, one of the sheep ran away from the farmer who was shearing it and managed to escape capture for some time. Shearing is a good (necessary) thing for the sheep but it still ran. The sheep would likely feel much freer and cool in the warmer weather but it tried to evade shearing. Multiple farmers had to work together to corner the sheep and eventually get it back to the skilled hands of the shearer. How often do we run away from what is good for us (that is, God and His promises for us) like a sheep runs away from a shearer? I know my answer: more times than I can count.
Thankfully, the Good Shepherd is one who does not abandon his wayward sheep. In the words of David, shepherd boy later turned king, the Lord is a shepherd who cares for all needs, leads in all good ways, and seeks more than contractual business meetings.
The speaker at the conference also helped bring the often cliche feeling words of Psalm 23 to life. If the Lord is our Good Shepherd, the often recited words of Psalm 23 carry great comfort, and not just for funerals. For if the Lord is our shepherd, He is provider and provision. There is no need to worry and fret about getting what we need. A shepherd makes sure his flock is fed. With Jesus, not only does he provide, but he provides himself. He leads us to places of rest in a world that never sleeps and restores our souls. He leads us along His path and not our own for the sake of His name. Sometimes the Shepherd does things that do not make sense to us. He leads us through the valley of the shadow of death. We don’t want to go there but He leads us there. The key is that He leads us through the valley – not just to it. In the valley, He is with us. He prepares a table for a relational dinner where it is easy to lose track of time because we are enjoying one another’s company, not just a fast food working lunch that will result in a list of to-dos and plans to act on afterward. Our enemies (even anxiety) are around as He prepares this dinner, but they cannot stand long in His glorious presence. And with the Good Shepherd, all of his sheep shall dwell in God’s house forever.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
for his name’s sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
you anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life,
and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord
forever.”
(Psalm 23, ESV)
We are easily distracted and often stubborn sheep who are not in control of our own stories no matter how much we plan or try to figure things out – but we belong to a faithful Shepherd who knows how to care for his sheep and help them when they are in trouble. That is a splendid relief for the burdened and anxious heart. We may be easily distracted sheep, but the Shepherd never takes his eyes or focus off of us, our needs, or our ultimate good.
I almost always get in a really weird, not particularly good mood on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. It’s like regrets from the year coming to a rapid close and fears about the future are combined with a bunch of sentimental crap, making a poisonous concoction. It’s isn’t exactly deadly, but it certainly is sickening.
I also get annoyed by all the fanfare. Maybe I’m just a New Year’s Scrooge, but I can’t help it. People are celebrating all things new when really the only thing new is the year listed on the calendar. And so what? The numbering of years is just an earthy construct used to organize the passing of time. It’s useful, but not exactly earth-shattering. People make ambitious resolutions (and I have too), knowing full well that they will probably fail within the first month. These resolutions are usually good things – like eating healthy, reading the Bible daily, or exercising more – but rarely does one actually succeed in a resolution without falling at least a little. People shout “new year, new me!” as if they didn’t say the same exact cliché last year, only to be stuck in their same old ways by February.
As Christians, we can celebrate true newness every single day – not just one day a year. And this newness isn’t like the newness that the world parades with. The newness that the world offers is really just a mask on the same old deadness inside. The newness that God offers reaches to the deepest darkest places in our souls. It brings what is dead back to life and replaces cold, hard hearts.
As this year comes to a close, I’ve been thinking a lot about one particular passage of scripture: Lamentations 3:22-24. Read it once, and read it again.
“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.”
(Lamentations 3:22-24, ESV)
Did you catch that? His mercies are new every morning. Not just the day you first believed. Not just the moment you first trusted Jesus. Every morning. Every single day. His faithfulness doesn’t end. For every morning we wake, His mercies for us are new.
Of course, it doesn’t always feel that way. More often than not, our hearts and minds are flooded with worries, doubts, pain, and the weight of yesterday as soon as the alarm sounds and our eyes open. Mornings are filled with dread and not celebration. In these groggy moments, it is so easy to lose sight of truth. Just like our eyes struggle to adjust to the bright light of day after hours of darkness, our minds struggle to focus on the Light of Christ after hours of sleep. These early morning moments can easily define the rest of our day – at least, they tend to do so for me. Most mornings I struggle to get up – fighting anxiety about the past and the future, doubts, guilt, and just sheer exhaustion.
Whatever I’m feeling though, that doesn’t make truth any less true. The truth is that God is faithful and His mercies are continually new. I don’t have to carry the weight of yesterday’s shame, failures, and struggles, nor do I have to carry the worries of tomorrow. For the past few weeks, my nightly prayer as been “God, help me remember your mercies when I wake.” God is faithful. He has reminded me of them. It makes me almost teary eyed to think of it. Mornings still feel like a struggle. I have to wrestle with the thoughts that flood to my mind. It’s a battle and I don’t always win. Still – God is faithful. His mercies are continually renewed. They were new today, on the last day of 2018. They will be new tomorrow, as 2019 dawns. They will always be new. And thanks be to God.
Everyday, we’re rushing. Rushing to get work done, rushing to check things off the ever growing to-do list, rushing to create a happier life, rushing to shape our identities with all the things we’ve done. We rush about our days to get this and that done and often wonder if we will have the time (and energy) to complete all we have to do or feel we need to do. This time of year, we rush at an even more rapid pace, as we rush to get the perfect gifts for everyone on our lists and rush to make a picture-perfect Christmas scene in our homes. We rush. We run. We race against the clock. We bow down to time. We bow down to the things our little screens scream we need. We bow down to lists and desires. I’m as guilty of this as anyone else.
But God isn’t rushing.
God isn’t frantic.
Yes, God is working. He is working every moment. Yes, God is moving. He is moving in people’s lives every second of everyday.
But God is not rushing.
God was never rushing. He is outside of time. He isn’t confined by it. We rush. He works in the best time.
I recently re-read the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead in John 11. Verse 5 stopped me in my tracks for a moment.
“Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. 6 So, when he heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.”
John 11:5 (ESV)
At first glance, this verse doesn’t make a lot of sense. When a dear friend or family member is on death’s doorstep, we (rightfully and understandably) rush to their side if it is at all humanly possible. In this scenario, though, Jesus stayed where He was for two days. He didn’t do this out of apathy or selfishness. He did this because He loved Mary and Martha and by Him staying where He was for a couple days, God would receive greater glory.
In those two days, Lazarus died. His family and friends grieved and were hopeless. But that isn’t the end of the story.
Jesus arrives and sees Mary, Martha, and the others mourning. He asks where they have laid Lazarus and He goes to that place. He asks for the stone to be rolled away, which sounds crazy to all the mourners as the stench of a decaying body is strong. They do as He says though and Jesus calls Lazarus out of the tomb. Lazarus comes back to life. Hope is restored. God is glorified. And perhaps the faith of those involved grew.
Had Jesus rushed to Lazarus and healed him of his illness immediately, none of those things would have happened.
This story is one of countless examples both from the Bible and the lives of believers shows that God’s timing is perfect. His timing is sometimes (often times) a bit different from our own. Sometimes He seems painfully slow or perhaps even absent. But He is faithful. He knows how to use time in our lives to grow us in faith and to sanctify us. God isn’t confined by time but He uses it as a tool for our good and His glory.
This is something I have been struggling with. I have begged God to change certain things in my life and my growth in Him feels agonizingly slow. I want things to change with the flick of a switch. I want a painless healing. I want painless change. God is capable of that. He is capable of all things. But true growth and change don’t happen without time and sometimes pain. Instead of instant gratification for my desperate pleas, God tells me two things that I don’t really want to hear but that I need to hear:
“Be still, and know that I am God…” (Psalm 46:10)
“…He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” (Philippians 1:6)
In all my worries and anxieties, in all my rushing to be good at things and succeed at work and in life, God says to be still. Stop. Slow down. Don’t rush. Know that God is here and God is in control. I may not know how many days I have and it may feel like a race against the clock for me, but God knows how many days I have and what it will take to fully sanctify me. He will bring the good work He began in me to completion – not in my time, but in His.
And while my tenancy is to rush, it’s great news to hear that God doesn’t rush. For when an artist rushes, the work of art rarely comes out well. Rushing rarely produces quality. We are God’s creation, creations being created, His masterpieces. As a dedicated Creator, He takes His time and skillfully molds us. We just have to be still and trust His promises.
Last night, someone lost control of his truck, hit (and broke) the curb on one end of my family’s property, ripped a street sign out of the ground, knocked out a mailbox, spun back into the road and ended up in a large shrubbery on the other end of the property, with one of the back wheels thrown several yards away. After hearing the thuds and burning rubber, I looked out my window to see the driver frantically trying to drive out of the bush and the hole he was in. He kept pressing down on the gas multiple times. The engine revved up and dirt flew into the sky. His efforts to drive away only deepened the hole that his remaining back wheel was in. He dug himself into a deeper hole.
When he realized that there was no hope of driving out of this predicament, he ran away on foot, thus digging himself into an even deeper hole, this time with the law. He ran fast and managed to get quite far away, but he was no match for a K-9 unit hot in pursuit of his scent. Fleeing the scene of a crime and trying to hide only adds another charge against him. He dug himself into a deeper legal hole.
Thankfully, no one was seriously hurt. This story could have had many other horrific endings for the driver, other drivers, my family or the neighbor’s family. We are very thankful about that.
Once the tow truck finally got the truck out of the shrubbery and the police left, a humbling thought came to me. How many times am I like the driver? How many times to I find myself in some sort of struggle or sin and keep frantically trying the same thing over and over again trying to escape? How many times do I try to “pull myself up by my own bootstraps?” How many times do I reply on my sheer willpower? And when I finally give up trying and trying and trying to fix the problem myself, how often do I run away? How often do I try to hide from all the shame? How many times do I dig myself into deeper holes?
The answer: more times than I’d care to admit. My tenancies are exactly like those of this driver. I try to fix my problems myself and when I finally give up on that, I try to run.
Sure, sometimes I try good deeds. But those deeds are often ruined by the stench of ulterior motives. Sometimes I try to just ignore the problem. But my mind always returns to it like a dog to its own vomit. Sometimes I try to rationalize and say my sin isn’t so bad. But the truth is that my hands are covered in blood and nothing I can do will wash me clean.
No matter how much work I do or willpower I have, I cannot overcome my sin. It is too strong and too powerful a foe. It is deeply ingrained in me. Sure, I can run, but my weary legs will only take me so far. My only hope is surrendering to God and believing in Jesus as my Lord and Savior.
“For everyone who has been born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith.”
(1 John 5:4)
Of course, surrender isn’t easy. Even though I know that God knows all, it’s hard for me to admit things to Him and to just sit in His presence. It’s even harder to follow Him when He leads to tough conversations and situations. It’s also hard to admit my struggles with anyone around me, even those who seemingly want to help me. That has been especially evident the past few weeks. I know I’m not meant to carry my struggles alone but more times than not, I try to.
I keep digging myself into deeper holes of guilt, shame, fear, pain, and sin.
Thankfully, God didn’t and doesn’t and will not leave me in a hole. He doesn’t come after me in order to punish me but rather to rescue me. He takes my grimy rags and gives me new clothes. He works in me. He sanctifies me. He is patient with me. He lavishes me with His incredible love. And He is faithful to me.
“And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.”
(Philippians 1:6)
My tenancy may be to dig myself into deeper holes, but thanks be to God, that is not the entire story.
I’m a firm believer that the natural world around us can show us things of God’s character and give us important reminders as we journey through this life. After all, He is the creator of it all. Art reflects the artist. We just have to open our eyes and pay attention.
Where I work, we have several gardens and probably a couple hundred different flowers, vegetables, herbs, etc. There is one particular plant that has fascinated me ever since a co-worker showed it to me last summer: the sensitive plant, also known as the “shame plant” or “shy plant.” It gets its name from the fact that when you touch it, it immediately folds inward and droops on the ground, as the picture below shows. In a few minutes, it starts to perk up again and soon, it is as if it never drooped at all!
Sometimes life’s circumstances seem like a sudden punch to the gut. Sometimes we crash and burn. Sometimes our faith falters. Sometimes our situations look hopeless. We may turn inward. We may see our lives looking like the shriveled up leaves this plant has when it is touched. Things looks dead and hopeless. But as long as we have breath in our lungs and are still rooted in Jesus like the plant is rooted in the ground, there is hope. Things aren’t always the way they look at first glance.
That’s a frequent theme in scripture and in life. Sometimes our senses and our feelings fail us. They are not 100% accurate. There is always hope even when all seems hopeless. Even on the most hopeless day in history, the day that Jesus died a gruesome death on the cross, there was hope. He came back and will come back again. If Jesus could come back from the grave, then we can know for certain that there is hope in the seemingly hopeless in our lives too.
Of course, it may take exponentially longer to get up than it did to fall down. The same is true with this plant. It folds inward almost immediately upon being touched, but takes five or ten minutes to come back out and face the sun again. It doesn’t happen all at once either. It’s a slow, moment by moment comeback. And that’s the important thing: there is a comeback. One touch from some other force beyond the plant’s control does not keep the plant down. It is resilient. As God’s sojourning children in this world, who do not fight evil forces on our own but with the power of God, we can be resilient too. We do not fight this battle alone. We can and will rise again.
“Rejoice not over me, O my enemy; when I fall, I shall rise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light to me.”
Death is the ever constant elephant in the room. Everyone knows about it, everyone knows it is eventually inevitable, yet rarely does anyone want to think or talk about it. Yet death, as cruel as it is, is a necessity in this world. Everything that is now alive in this world relies on something that died. The plants that sprout from the ground and feed animals and humans grow from the dirt – made of decomposed plants and animals that came before. Even in the new heaven and earth to come, all who live there will be alive because of Jesus’ death on the cross and dying to themselves.
Lately death has been on my mind. Perhaps it is kind of morbid, but it’s hard to not think of it, with all the stories on the news and all the young people I have known to meet untimely ends. Death is prevalent, and it isn’t going away until the day Jesus returns. It’s the elephant in the room we have to address if we want to live this life like the gift that it is. None of us are getting any younger, and none of us know how many days we have left. I’m in my twenties, but I’m just as mortal as anyone in their supposed “sunset” years.
“The doctor says I’m dying
I die a little every day
But he’s got no prescription that could
Take my death away
The doctor says it don’t look so good
It’s terminal.
Some folks die in offices one day at a time
They could live a hundred years
But their soul’s already dead
Don’t let your spirit die before your body does
We’re terminal, we’re terminal.”
“Terminal” – Jon Foreman
Every day is one day closer. And in the mundane tasks of everyday life, it’s easy to forget what a gift this life is. I find it very difficult to remember this as I get caught up in the pressures and stresses at work. Perhaps that’s why the line quoted above about folks dying in offices cuts so deep. Sometimes it feels like I’m wasting precious time, caught up in the drudgery of getting my work done and just surviving. It’s easy to take all the little things – like breath, food, friends, and nature – for granted. It’s easy to lose wonder in the world. It easy to fall to cynicism and frustration. It’s a fight everyday, but I refuse to let my spirit die one day at a time as I go about my work. I want to live for something more. I want to live for Someone more.
Not only that, but I want to live BECAUSE of Someone more, that is, Christ. My hope is that you want this too. And there comes the concept of death yet again. See, in order to be in Christ, one has to die. 2 Corinthians 5:17 says “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” I am alive in Christ. And I am alive in Christ because of Christ’s death 2,000 years ago. Yet this new, eternal life is currently housed in a mortal shell, a vessel that will die. And even though I have been born again of God, part of the promise is not yet realized and will not be so until the day Jesus returns. As Christians, we live in both the now and the not yet. For now, while we inhabit this world of tension between physical birth and death, so too our souls lives in the tension of being saved yet not fully resurrected.
“We are, we are the living souls
With terminal hearts, terminal parts
Flickering like candles, shimmering like candles
We’re fatally flawed in the image of God.”
“Terminal” – Jon Foreman
We are living souls with terminal bodies. So even as Christians, our physical predicament hasn’t changed. But because of the new life that God has given and because of His promises, we can live this life in our mortal shells with hope and purpose. Because of Christ’s death, we are free to live for and because of God. Because of Christ’s death, we can live this life with hope and with longing for a world we have not yet seen. Because of our own eventual deaths, we can live this life like the gift it truly is. We can flicker and shimmer like candles, shining a light in a world that is so dark.
As we shine our light and acknowledge our own mortality, it also behooves us to take a breath, take a step back, and treat our fellow eternal souls in mortal bodies with decency and respect. While we may be different in looks, skills, status, or reputation, one thing is the same across the board – we are all dying. All of us face that predicament.
“Whenever I start cursing at the traffic or the phone
I remind myself that we have all got cancer in our bones
Don’t yell at the dead, show a little respect
It’s terminal, it’s terminal.”
“Terminal” – Jon Foreman
Everyone has some baggage they are carrying, even if it’s not easily noticeable. Knowing that everyone is dealing with something, whether it is grief, physical illness, emotional problems, financial instability, etc., we ought to show love towards all, just as our Savior did. Getting mad about someone cutting you off on the highway isn’t going to do anything good for you or them. On your deathbed, you won’t care about that sort of thing. So let’s be slow to anger, quick to love, and willing to serve our fellow mortal beings. We’re all terminal, but for the time being, we can shine like candles, helping illuminate a dark world with the hope and love.
megsnotions 