by jphilo | Jul 24, 2015 | Daily Life
Rereading this post about a series of no good, very bad days in July of 2008 made me smile. It made me think of how my mother used to say, “This too will pass,” when I got riled out about nothing much. I hope it makes you smile, too.
If my name was Alexander, I’d be writing a children’s book about the last few no good, very bad days. But since my name’s Jolene and you’re adults, I’ll skip the illustrations and tell you what’s been going on.
I haven’t posted to my blog the past few days because I’ve been working on a big media project, and I hate media projects. Every time I opened anything, even my email, I got a nasty message saying I was dangerously low on disk space. So it was no iPhoto or iWeb until the project was done and burned on a DVD.
The project was hard to burn onto a DVD, and I hate burning DVDs. My daughter helped me and after a while we both hated burning DVDs.
I’ve had two writing projects to edit. They popped up all of the sudden and had very short deadlines. I hate short deadlines. They fluster me so much I sometimes forget to save my editing. Yesterday, I forgot to save some editing and had to redo the whole thing. I hate redoing the whole thing.
The weather’s been really hot and humid for the last few days. I hate humidity. It’s been so miserable, I’ve been running the air conditioners a lot, and I hate air condiditioning.
But last night, my daughter got the DVD burning to work, and I was able to trash the project and free up space on my computer. I finished both editing projects, saved and sent them. And the weather broke in the night so this morning’s walk was glorious. As I walked I thought of a sunrise picture I took a few days back, before the no good, very bad stuff started. I knew I should share it with you since you listened to me whine about the no good, very bad stuff.
I love sunrises. I hope you do, too.
by jphilo | Aug 4, 2014 | Church Newsletter Columns
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
