Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Looking Forward

As we taxied out to the runway, I said, “I bet those children are sad.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jay responded. “They seemed pretty distracted when we left.”

“Well, they were at the window waving, and I somehow think that Ellie has it in her mind that as soon as we go home, she’ll get to come to our house and go to the mountains—a slight mishap of understanding that occurred one morning at 6:00 while the rest of the house slumbered in sleep (and I nearly so) while little Elliott was as wide awake as a squirrel scampering over a fence top. Sleepily, I’d said, “This summer when you come to Granny’s house, we’ll go to the mountains.”

A while later Jay joined us and I slid all the way down on the couch and went back to sleep as Jay handed Ellie his iPad with the ABC game on. When I awoke, Ellie jumped up excited and shouted, “Yay, now we can go to the mountains!” 

From that point on she asked periodically when we were going home.

How? I wondered, does one who measures time in months and years explain to a 4-year-old who measures days in numbers of sleeps just when she will come to Colorado and go to the mountains. Even if I put 150 beads in a tub and told her to take one out each night before she slept, it would still overwhelm her. 

So—just how could a good God who lives beyond time altogether ever make us (who measure history in generations and centuries) ever grasp the meaning of His imminent return?

As I write these words 43,000 feet above the earth and moving miles and miles farther and farther away from Elliott, I think I know better now that I can’t really comprehend Jesus’ words any more than Ellie can understand mine.

Yet, I still think that Elliott believes that one day, some day, she will get in her “new” car and drive far, far, far—to our house, and we will eat mac and cheese, have tea parties, and go to the mountains.

Jesus told His disciples: “I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”

Monday, February 11, 2013

Walking Away

There are those who set aside their faith and their God.

I have sauntered myself through the dusty vault of vying worldviews of doubt. But, eventually, as I wander the greenway—Nature and logic always draw me back in—back in to my Creator God. 

I wonder if as we set aside a God omnipotent, do we really desire to set aside His great adversary—that father of lies? The one who whispers in the sleepless nights the lies of our fears—the fears of failure, worthlessness, and displeasure?

So easy it is to grasp the lie and turn further and further from Truth—the truth that we are greatly loved both here and above—that success is only truly measured in eternity’s illumination—that we are valued, so highly valued, that God would stop at nothing short of sacrificing himself for us.

Yet, the sin that “so easily besets us” haunts our thoughts and musings—and speaks of lies.

And where does one go when she has walked the path of lies, tasted the Deceiver’s fruit, veiled from the Spirit’s mirror?

And how can I prevent those I love and those I teach from walking away, just walking away? Walking away from love—

I guess I can’t.

But, there is a power in prayer, and sometimes there’s green poking through a February snow. And I take it as a sign, a sign that even when one sets aside both faith and God, they are not forever lost. They are not beyond the reach of a pierced Hand stretched out in love.