Home

 "So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:18

    Houses tell stories. 

    Like finding tattered pages from a book, I have read "excerpts" of the family who lived in my home before me. Written in the concrete of the basement floor are their names, Flo and Ed, along with a date: July 30, 1949. There are also footprints, smaller than mine, imbedded there which bade me to know more about these folks who once walked my floors.

    With a bit of research, I discovered Flo was a kind-hearted second grade teacher. Her husband, Ed, was an amiable man who liked to work with his hands. They had one daughter, Kelly, whose name I found etched in the pavement out back, and they are buried in the Mayfield cemetery.

    I imagine Flo, looking out at the back yard as she washed dishes, waving to Ed who walked by with yard tools. Perhaps Kelly was there, too, blowing bubbles in the sunshine. A happy family, I'd like to think, whose voices are no longer heard, just as mine will someday be silenced as well, because everything that is seen is temporary.

    That being said, is anything really mine? My car will one day join others in the junkyard. The halls of my home will be occupied by others someday. Even my body is an earthly tent, a temporary house for my soul. 

    So, what's the point? Where do I belong? What do I have in this life?

    What is unseen is eternal. My soul is my only possession that will last and, thanks be to Jesus, I know to Whom it belongs - to the One who has gone to prepare a place for it and has promised to come back and take me to be with Him where He dwells. "My Father's house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you?" Jesus said in John 14: 2-3. "And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you may also be where I am." 

    When I get there, perhaps I will look out at the back yard and wave to passersby, who will return the gesture with a broad smile, because we will have arrived in that better country, a heavenly one. That is where I belong.

    There's no place like home!

"All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth...They were longing for a better country - a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them." Hebrews 11: 13, 16

 

    

More Than These

 "When they had finished eating, Jesus said to Simon Peter, 'Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?'" John 21: 15a

    I picture myself dining in my home with Jesus, a simple meal of warm bread and fish, just the two of us. Satiated, we push back and place napkins on the table. I'm not thinking of anything in particular (except maybe dessert) when His piercing gaze meets mine and He asks me plainly, "Rachel, daughter of Russ and Trudy, do you love me more than these?"

    My heart quickens as I look around at all the stuff that represents my life: pictures of my family, sentimental keepsakes in the china cabinet, loving tokens from others, items of comfort and security. Would I give it all up for Christ? 

    This verse comes to mind as I write: "For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his own soul?" (Mark 8:36) Is anything around me worth more than Jesus?

    Consider heaven. What do I want to see upon my arrival, first and foremost? The colossal gate made of a single pearl? The shiny, golden street as pure as transparent glass? The merry eyes of my mother? 

    If heaven were a barren landscape, void of all save Jesus, would I be just as eager to go there? Do I truly love Him more than these?

    Yes! A thousand times, Yes! May it be so. May I join Simon Peter in saying, 

"'Yes, Lord,' he said, 'You know that I love you.'" John 21: 15b

    

Scars for Life

 "Now Thomas, one of the Twelve, was not with the disciples when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, 'We have seen the Lord!'

    "But he said to them, 'Unless I see the nail marks in His hands and put my finger where the nails were, and put my hand into His side, I will not believe.'

    "A week later his disciples were in the house again, and Thomas was with them. Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, 'Peace be with you!' Then He said to Thomas, 'Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe.'" John 20: 24-27

    Do you have any scars?

    I have one that I received when I was about five or six years old, when some of the neighborhood kids and I were constructing a blanket-over-the-clothesline tent. As I was laying down a foundational brick, so was another kid who accidentally squished my pinky finger between our two bricks. 

    The game was over as I ran inside to my mother and kids dispersed. I can still recall my personal horror when I saw the doctor actually sewing my skin together, as my mom would darn a sock.  

    Today, I look at the crooked scar with a fondness, allowing the childhood memories of play and providence to warm me  It has become physical proof of what transpired on that day.

    Over the years, I have acquired other scars, though these are of the invisible sort. Most of these stem from my own rebellion, though some were caused by others. These old wounds are part of who I am; they are mile markers of where I have been, what I have done and (hopefully) how much I have learned from my mistakes. 

    The question is: Are they scars or are they wounds? In other words, have these inflictions healed?

    It shames me to admit this, but I have a wound I have been nursing for forty years! Isn't it about time I give it to Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of my life? Anything I have suffered pales in comparison to the pains He endured for my sake. 

    His scars are for my life. After allowing Jesus to heal me, only then can I look upon these internal scars with fondness because they have become evidence of my faith in Christ. 

"Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering, yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed." Isaiah 53: 4, 5

No Body

 "Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name in heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved." Acts 4:12

    It was a clear, sunny day Saturday, so when I glanced out my kitchen window, I wondered why I saw fog. However, I quickly realized it was smoke. Our neighbor's house was on fire!

    As David dashed outdoors, I called 911. "Do come quickly!" I implored to the dispatcher. "I believe the man is inside!" Other neighbors joined my husband in an effort to gain access, but the smoke was too thick, the flames too intense. Moments seemed eternal as we waited for the firefighters' arrival, and we cried in helpless grief. We were powerless to save him; he perished that day. 

    Sadly, I gaze now across the blanket of snow at the stark, skeletal frame of our neighbor's house. Bouquets of flowers join some balloons and a teddy bear in his yard - expressions of the neighborhood's mourning - but I am dismayed to say I never met the man whom I occasionally saw over the fence. And now he is gone. The opportunity to share my faith went up with the black smoke. 

    Like our little crowd of concerned citizens that fateful day, we, without Christ, are powerless to save from hellfire and damnation, either ourselves or others. But, thank God, the story doesn't end on this morbid note. 

    The Bible says it best: "You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Romans 5: 6-8)

    Salvation is found in nobody else, and the reason for this is simple: Christ died but there is no body. The grave is empty, only the graveclothes were there. He is risen from the dead! (Luke 24: 1-6) Jesus won the victory over the power of the grave and, when we place our trust in Him, nobody can snatch us from His hand. (John 10:28)  Only Jesus Christ has the credentials, as God's perfect Son, to have sacrificed Himself in our place. Nobody else.

    I do not know if my neighbor had accepted this free gift of salvation; hopefully, he had. I wish I had spoken to him about it because what if nobody had? My urgency to share my faith should have matched the emergency nature of the call I had made. 

    Dear God, forgive me. Help me to be somebody who cares.

My God and My King!

 "When you, God, went out before your people, when you marched through the wilderness, the earth shook, the heavens poured down rain...The chariots of God are tens of thousands and thousands of thousands; the Lord has come from Sinai into his sanctuary." Psalm 68: 7, 17

    Processions of pomp and regalia are so impressive. Think of a victorious march of uniformed soldiers in a ticker tape parade, or a splendorous bride with metered step going forth with a twenty-five foot train in her wake. Swells of "Pomp and Circumstance" set the tone for many a graduation as mortar boards are happily flung skyward.

    Grand as those may be, imagine being cordially invited into the sanctuary of the Most High, to witness the spectacular pageantry of the procession of God as recounted in Psalm 68:

    "Your procession, God, has come into view, the procession of my God and my King into the sanctuary." (verse 24)

    Imagine, perched on the edge of your seat with a craned neck, you've been rolling your program into a tube as you nervously await the splendid display of His Majesty. Though you are in the nosebleed section, wild horses could not tear you away as you bite your bottom lip in anticipation. Finally...

    "In front are the singers, after them the musicians; with them are the young women playing the timbrels." (verse 25)

    Oh, can you hear the magnificent swell of music? Holy! Holy! Holy! Lord God Almighty! All stops have been pulled out as reverberations of glorious praise flow from the choir. Trumpets may sound; let everything that has breath praise the Lord.

    "Praise God in the great congregation; praise the Lord in the assembly of Israel." (verse 26)

    By now, you are on your feet, hands held to the heavens as pure worship courses through your body. Like David dancing with abandon before the Lord, you are jumping out of your shoes. None of earth's grand displays could compare to this parade of glory.

    "There is the little tribe of Benjamin leading them, there the great throng of Judah's princes, and there the princes of Zebulun and of Naphtali." (verse 27)

    Those around you excitedly point to the cadence of the tribes. You can hardly believe what you're seeing! Not even Solomon in all his splendor is arrayed as one of these. 

    I can only imagine those things which God has prepared for us in the heavenly realms. As I watch the tender snow falling from above, my imagination takes me to the storehouses of snow where my God and my King reigns eternally. The asphalt street on which I live will be replaced with a ribbon of pure gold, as seen from the window of the heavenly mansion, my new abode. 

    Nothing can compare to seeing Jesus, the One who laid down His life for me and crowned me with love and compassion, without Whom I haven't received an invitation to the procession of God. Though I'd like to be one of the singers, I will be content to just be there. 

    Will you join me?

"Sing to God, you kingdoms of the earth, sing praise to the Lord, to him who rides across the highest heavens, the ancient heavens, who thunders with a mighty voice. You, God, are awesome in your sanctuary; the God of Israel gives power and strength to his people. Praise be to God!" Psalm 68:32, 33, 35

My Pilot

"Suddenly a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. The disciples went and woke him, saying, 'Lord, save us! We are going to drown!' He replied, 'You of little faith, why are you so afraid?' Then he got up and rebuked the wind and the waves, and it was completely calm." Matthew 8: 23-26

    Air travel is a lesson in complete surrender. It begins with the humiliation of doffing one's shoes, dutifully waiting, like cattle in a corral, as a squad of strangers examine personal belongings while unsung notes of suspicion are sung in the minds of travelers. There's a tingle of fear that one will not be accepted, set aside and rejected, never to reach one's destination.

    Something akin to this happened to me on my way home from Houston. As I stepped through the metal detector, I was singled out. My bag was searched. The jar of peanut butter I wanted to bring home was confiscated. As I endured this, alone in an intercontinental airport, the temptation to worry nagged at me, but I silenced it by quoting Psalm 31:15: "My times are in your hands." The peace of God settled me right down and I made it to the gate on time. 

    After the hustle of boarding, I settled into my seat by the window. As usual, the flip-flop feeling in my stomach began to kick in, reminding me of my acrophobia, but I squashed it by quoting Psalm 56:4: "When I am afraid, I put my trust in you." The peace of God settled over me once again as I watched the activity on the ground from my lofty vantage point.

    The power of the airliner's ascent pushed me back into my seat as we soared through seemingly impenetrable cloud cover. No visible touchstone could ground my perspective; in faith, I relied on the pilot to see us through. Up, up, up we soared until the glorious landscape of the second heaven proclaimed the power of God. Sunshine soaked fluffy mountains of white in a surreal world where angels traverse. I felt the wonder of my inclusion into this spectacular sight as the words of Psalm 19:1 came to mind: "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands." The peace that passes all understanding enveloped me like a downy comforter. Fear was soundly dismissed.

    Surrendering to God's plan and purpose seems contrary to life's ways as an adult, but when I sit back in my seat like a child in the family sedan, only then can I enjoy the ride - not because I know the way, but because I know the Pilot. 

    Upon my exit in Cleveland, I thanked the pilot with the yellow stripes on his sleeves for getting me home, but he was just the co-pilot. Jesus brought me safely to my destination.

Jesus, Savior, pilot me

Over life's tempestuous sea;

Unknown waves before me roll,

Hiding rock and treach'rous shoal.

Chart and compass come from Thee:

Jesus, Savior, pilot me.

    

    

Unhindered

 "People were bringing little children to Jesus for Him to place His hands on them, but the disciples rebuked them. When Jesus saw this, He was indignant. He said to them, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.' And He took the children in His arms, placed His hands on them and blessed them." Mark 10: 13-16

    Recently, I visited my eldest daughter and her family in Texas. It was time for my three-year-old granddaughter, Esme, to have her annual check up, so I went along.

    As we waited in the pediatrician's exam room, Esme busied herself writing on a board on the wall provided for that purpose. When the nurse arrived, Esme made one last drawing before going to her: it was a cross. 

    In candid excitement, she told the nurse, "I made a cross. Jesus died on the cross!" Though the woman chose not to reply, Esme's declaration brought joy to her mother and me (and to our Lord as well, I'm sure.) 

    May I be so eager to say as much!

    The gospel is simple enough that a child may understand it, but somewhere along the line, we make it into a theological oration when it needn't be. I remember, the older my mother got, the bolder she became in sharing her faith. 

    I am going to take a lesson from Esme and my mom by lifting high my gospel light, unhindered. This must be what Jesus meant by receiving the kingdom of God like a little child, no matter one's age. 

"For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes: first to the Jew, then to the Gentile." Romans 1:16