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When Life Feels Like a Bad Movie

When Life Feels Like a Bad Movie

Cloudy Sky

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

In Heaven Eating Bon Bons by the Pool with Jesus

swimming pool

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

The House on the Rock

The House on the Rock

Everyone who comes to me and hears my words and does them,
I will show you what he is like:
he is like a man building a house,
who dug deep and laid the foundation on the rock.
Luke 6:47-48

A few days ago, Hiram and I made a quick, midweek trip to Wisconsin to see our son and his wife. The weather was gorgeous, so while the young folk were at work, we explored winding country roads we usually passed by in a hurry. Finally, we had time to investigate the “scenic overlook” mentioned on cryptic road signs ignored during other visits. We parked the car and followed the path, expecting to see a lovely valley complete with a sparkling river, and perhaps one of the large mounds scattered throughout southwest Wisconsin.

Instead, in the distance we could see the famous House on the Rock clinging to the side of a limestone cliff. While I snapped several photos of this feat of engineering, something my dad used to say came to mind. It’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live there.

We hiked back to the car and the the sight-seeing road again. But I kept thinking about the House on the Rock as a metaphor for our lives since Hiram left work early because of back pain in late May. One day he was training for a half- marathon. The next day, the pain was so bad, he couldn’t walk. He spent two weeks in bed. He followed the doctor’s orders and waited for the pain to ease. It didn’t get better, so it was back to the doctor for tests, more waiting for results, then a diagnosis, a referral to a neurosurgeon, and finally successful back surgery.

In the weeks leading up to the diagnosis and surgery, we prayed a lot. We talked a lot. We sat on the edge of our own persona cliff, peering into the unknown and asking God plenty of questions:

Why are you doing this, God?
Will Hiram have to live with this pain the rest of his life?
Will he be able to work again?
Be physically active again?
Should I look for a teaching job?
How will You bring good out of our family’s pain and sickness and unwanted change?

The night before surgery, Hiram said, “I’m ready for whatever the outcome is. Whatever happens, it will be good.”

When he said those words, we didn’t know the surgery would be successful. We were still sitting on the edge of the cliff. We were still peering into the unknown. But in those weeks of uncertainty we learned to cling to the promises and goodness of God. The more we did, the more the Rock beneath our precariously placed feet stood firm.

Immovable.
Unchanging.
Ever present.

Through it all, God impressed upon us a precious truth. Our cliff was not a fun place to visit, but upon the firm foundation of the Rock of Ages was and is the best place to live.