So Ready

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA“I feel like going home.”

“Beulah land, I’m longing for you.”

“I can’t feel at home in this world anymore.”

He tells me I’m young. I have a life to live. But what is that life in light of Heaven? I’ve never been oh so ready to meet my maker, to rest easy–like Bilbo in Rivendell–to be at peace. “To live is Christ and to die is gain.” I stay for the people. I love them. They need Jesus. I stay to “go ye therefore and make disciples…” To love them as He has loved me. Caring so much means my heart is torn out over and over again. I can’t save them, and they choose destructively often. But I stay. To love is to be as Christ to the people. But I fervently yearn to go. Maybe God will take me early. I’m homesick for Heaven; I’m ready to fly away “like a bird from these prison walls.” I am not afraid of death, no, I am ready.

Maybe saying that makes me apathetic or depressed. I would say it just makes me world worn. The monotonous repetitiveness of life drains me sometimes. I work every day for money I hardly care about. Everything repeats–large and small–there is nothing new under the sun. All is vanity. We are ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Who and what we are in between is complex and incomprehensible. Worldviews shaped by lives. Lives shaped by the choices of so very many people. Just when I think I finally understand someone in comes a new facet I had totally missed…

I think we fear death too much in the church today. Look back to the old songs and you catch that yearning for Heaven. Today we are entirely caught up in surviving and thriving and worshiping in the now. Which isn’t wrong entirely, but…the pleasures on this earth are merely appetizers, foretastes of the pleasure of Heaven. We devour them and chase them and still feel lack. At least, I do. We weren’t meant to live for the now. We were meant to live for the hope of then. To store our hope, our treasure in Heaven, for if our heart is there moth and rust cannot destroy and the thieves cannot break in and steal. If my hope is in that grand afterlife nothing and no one can take it from me. I like what C. S. Lewis said: “If I find myself with desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” Yes. The best of times here are echoes of what is to come.

I am ready to leave, but as I wait I’m going to invite as many of the lonely, broken people to come to my Father’s house with me as I can. I don’t force it down throats. But I try to live as His child. I try to show them why. And in a way, each day I say “Wait a little longer please Jesus. Just a few more days to get [my] loved ones in.” But sometimes I resonate much more with Rich’s word: “It won’t break my heart to say goodbye.” I am torn between two worlds. I am a sojourner here. But I belong there…”This is my temporary home.” Are you ready? Are you torn also? Are you reaching people for the Kingdom? Are you ready and prepared to finally go home? Oh, what a glorious day that will be!

Categories: My Life, Ponderings, rants | Tags: , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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2 thoughts on “So Ready

  1. My first comment is this song “With You Now.”

    My second comment is this song “Don’t Forget His Love

    And if you feel a need for lightness in heart, a read:

    I’ll end with sharing something a bit more personal, confessional. Your post reminded me of a period in my grieving. I would call it a time in which I had nasuea at life (I can’t remember if I am stealing that term from Lewis in A Grief Observed or not). Reading your post, I felt an echo of that nasuea.

    I will say you have expressed it in better, more spiritual, thoughts. Perhaps you heart stays in better places than mine. In the dark moments what I felt was that what I had gone through had removed the rose-tinted glasses from life and now in all its bleakness I saw what living was all about: watching the people you love suffer and die. What I saw looking ahead was more rending, more suffering, more pain, and it all to end in death. And that life looked intolerable, unbearable, and I didn’t know how I could go on.

    In the perversity of the moment it felt like love was a curse, because if I did not love and I did not care then all the suffering and death I would see in life would not hurt–but instead the more I loved and the more I cared the deeper the barbs of this life would be shoved into my heart.

    What solace I might have found in God–but in that place oh, how angry I was with God, how abandoned and hurt I felt. I found God’s love and His ways to be short, and I took issue with Him. What I felt was that Jesus came and died and rose–and what good was that? The world still suffered–Christians still suffered–they suffered horrible physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual agony . . . and God did not take that away. And I didn’t want to see people going through those things, I didn’t want to feel what I felt seeing people go through those things. And so I found God’s love wanting, and I felt horribly alienated from Him. It was as if God had become my enemy.

    That is what I felt, but I have a good head knowledge of what Scripture says, so I could throw all sorts of words of truth at myself to rebuke my feelings, and remind myself of how wrong my feelings were, and how right God was (is). And so on top of hurting, and being angry at God, I also loathed myself for the attitude and feelings I had.

    Hitting that downward spiral around the drain is a bad place to be, a place we cannot save ourselves from, and thanks be to God that He is near the broken-hearted. The spiritual pain one feels in that place cannot be described adequately to someone who has not been there–but anyone who has been there knows what I speak of. From your post it sounds like you are dealing with the buffets of grief better than I did, but if you ever do get into that similiar place–then know that you are not the only person who has been there. Know that you are not alone.

    To someone not in grief they say (with the best intentions) that you have all your life left to live. But in the throes of grief that can sound like someone saying how many years of torture you have left watching the suffering of others, and suffering too.

    Not words which commend me, I know. But I am being honest about roads I have walked. Hopefully the stuff I have shared from other people will be more encouraging 🙂

  2. Thank you for your honesty. Your words capture the feelings well…it is good that you still remember how it feels. Also, as usual, the music is amazing. I’m working on getting A Grief Observed from the library, by the way. So, yeah, thanks for that recommendation as well.

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