A Baby in His Arms
God walked down the stairs of heaven with a Baby in His arms. ~ Paul Sherer
Merry Christmas!
Does God Hear Me in Iowa?
And when He had taken the book, the four living creatures
and the twenty-four elders fell down before the Lamb,
having each one a harp, and golden bowls of incense,
which are the prayers of the saints.
Revelation 5:8
“Is this heaven?”
“No, it’s Iowa.”
Truer words have never been spoken, at least in the opinion of Iowans. In June the grass is a verdant green, trees are in full leaf, and the cornfields are nearing the magical days when we can imagine Shoeless Joe and his teammates appearing from between rows of corn to converge on a field of dreams.
For me, some scripture passages read more like the script of a movie like Field of Dreams than like words for believers to live by. How do visions of strange living creatures in Revelation 5: 8 assure parents scared to send freshly graduated high school seniors into a world filled with evil? How do harps and golden bowls comfort parents of children scarred by horrors no child should ever experience? How can wafting incense reassure us when people we love dearly are wandering in darkness and despair and self-destructiveness?
Apparently, the vision is important because John reiterates part of it later in Revelation:
And another angel came and stood at the altar, holding the golden censer, and much incense was given him, that he might add it to the prayers of all the saints upon the golden altar which was before the throne. And the smoke of the incense, with the prayers of the saints, went up before God out of the angel’s hand. (Rev. 8:3-4)
In both passages, John describes the prayers of the saints as golden incense rising to God. The first passage could give the impression that the prayers are only those of saints already in heaven. But the second passage says, “the prayers of all the saints.”
Do you know what that means? It means that as believing saints, our prayers we on earth–for high school graduates, for vulnerable and damaged children, and for the lost ones we love–rise to God like sweet incense. If they rise to Him, He must hear them. And if He hears them, then we know He will answer them, though perhaps in ways we won’t understand in this world.
These verses say that our prayers matter. Our prayers make a difference in our lives and in the lives of those we lift up before the Father. On earth and in heaven. Today and for eternity. They provide the assurance we need when we are discouraged, when God doesn’t seem to hear and answer our prayers, when our high school graduates make stupid choices, when our broken children are not healed, and when the lost ones we love wander farther and farther away. When we want to shout, “God, do you hear me in Iowa?”
By his strange and magical Word, we hear God whisper into our shattered hearts, “Do I hear you in Iowa? No, dear one. I hear you in heaven.”
When Life Feels Like a Bad Movie
Therefore, prepare your minds for action, keep sober in spirit,
fix your hope completely on the grace
to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.
1 Peter 1:13
Thus far, 2015 has not been my favorite year. Before the first two weeks of January were over, our first granddaughter was born ten days early, an unexpected opening at an assisted living facility meant Mom could move in pronto instead of in two months, our daughter and son-in-law moved into the new condo they purchased, and the page proofs for my latest book project arrived, along with a very short turn around time.
“Your life is a lot like a movie where everything happens at once,” my sister observed.
“Yes,” I agreed. “A really bad movie.”
Things didn’t improve much over the next few days when an avalanche of medical, financial, and insurance details related to Mom’s move threatened to derail a trip to meet the new baby. Somehow, I plowed through the mess and spent a sweet week helping the young family adjust to its newest member.
But even at the best of times–cuddling the baby or playing with our grandson–a silent, unending refrain invaded my every waking moment. 2015 is like a movie. A really bad movie.
A really bad, exhausting movie.
The refrain was so loud and insistent I could barely hear the pastor teach about 1 Peter 1:13–16 during his sermon. Or maybe I didn’t want to hear what he or the apostle Peter had to say about a believer’s response to hard times. Because the pastor’s reiteration of Peter’s commands to cultivate a disciplined mind and sober spirit discouraged me. After all, I’ve dedicated daily time to obeying those commands for years and years. But my obedience wasn’t making this particular hard time any easier.
Not. One. Bit.
But then, the pastor got to Peter’s third command to fix our hope on Christ. Not just on the hope of our present salvation, but also on the future hope of glory spent in his presence for eternity. Glory which he promises that his children will one day fully experience.
As I contemplated that promise and began to fix my eyes upon the hope of Christ, the bad movie soundtrack in my brain gradually faded away. I wish I could say it was replaced by heavenly music sung by choirs of angels. But it wasn’t. And I wish I could say that my present troubles faded away, too.
But they didn’t.
But with my eyes fixed upon the hope of glory in Christ yet to come, present troubles no longer consumed my thoughts. They didn’t rule my day. They could no longer taint my attitude. Because I was and am looking forward to something.
You can look forward to the same something. In the midst of hard times, dashed expectations, unwanted change, or devastating loss, you can look forward to this glimpse of future glory Peter offers. His words are a mere taste of what’s to come, just the trailer of the glorious, unending movie where everything good happens in the eternal lives of believers at once and forever.
And though I haven’t heard soundtrack for the movie, I know it will be heavenly!
In Heaven Eating Bon Bons by the Pool with Jesus
For momentary, light affliction is producing for us
an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison,
while we look not at the things which are seen,
but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal,
but the things which are not seen are eternal.
2 Corinthians 4:17–18
The past month’s news has been a parade of one horrible event after another. An ebola epidemic in west Africa. Refugee children flocking into the country only to learn they aren’t welcome. Israel and Gaza at war. A passenger plane shot down by a missile.
The parade is never-ending. Sometimes, I can’t stand to listen anymore and turn off the news. I don’t even want to exist in this ocean of sorrow. I don’t want a job where parents of kids with special needs email with problems I can’t solve. I don’t want to live in a country where people hold up signs and scream obscenities at innocent children. I don’t want live in a world, which the Bible says, will end with death and destruction on a massive scale.
“Lord, take me home now,” I beg. “Bring me into your presence so Jesus and I can spend our days together. So we can sit by the swimming pool and sip fruity drinks decorated with tiny umbrellas, eat bon bons, and discuss the latest Sue Grafton mystery novel.”
So far, God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit have not come to consenus concerning the granting of my heartfelt and perhaps misguided and selfish request. More likely, thanks to some prayer intervention by Jesus, God the Father has directed the Holy Spirit to perform more internal heart reconstruction inside me so I’m ready when the time comes for me to go home.
God alone knows when that day is. He alone knows when my earthly work and yours is done. He alone knows when the eyes of our hearts are prepared to appreciate the glory waiting in heaven. In light of the reality of our God who holds our return tickets home close to his chest, how do we keep the actions of broken people in a broken world from breaking our hearts and destroying our faith? I know only one way to survive and even thrive in this world of sorrow.
By looking to Jesus. Jesus, who left his glorious home in heaven to live among us. Compassionate Jesus, who loved and welcomed children with special needs. Innocent Jesus, who listened as people shouted obscenities at him. Jesus the Lamb, who died on the cross to redeem broken people living in a broken world. Risen Jesus, who ascended into heaven and sits on the throne. King Jesus, whose reign will end death and destruction forever.
To survive and thrive when the parade of bad news never ends, we must not be consumed by the sorrows of this earth. Instead, we must see them through the lens of hope. Hope in the unseen eternity yet to come. Hope in Christ, who entered into our temporary light afflictions to produce an eternal weight of glory on our behalf.
Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace.
Photo Credit: papaija2008 at www.freedigitalphotos.net
Three Thoughts for Thursday
- When friends suffer a tragic loss, asking God to hold back the darkness around them seems like such a small prayer.
- New word alert! Sadvertizing, as in pull-at-the-heartstrings-advertising. The Proctor and Gambles Tribute to Moms ads during the Olympics are an example.
- Last week, an indigo bunting perched on the fence across our gravel road. When I get to heaven, it will be filled with them.
What will populate your heaven? Leave a comment.
