"Therefore they are before the throne of God, and serve him day and night in his temple; and he who sits on the throne will shelter them with his presence. They shall hunger no more, neither thirst anymore; the sun shall not strike them, nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of living water, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes." Revelation 7: 15-17
Sometimes I read the news and I want to unsee everything I just saw. I look at my children, at their peers, growing up in this hard, mixed-up, terror-infested world and worry threatens. Too many of them put on a good show, pretending there is nothing going on that should bring them to their knees in prayer and living life as if old-age is guaranteed. Others, though the minority, have an inner maturity, an ability to see beyond the veil and long for the return of their Savior from a very young age.
I was once one of the former, choosing to ignore the potential of life being cut short, not realizing that life had not yet truly begun. God was distant and often displeased and I did not want to be near him. I knew I didn't measure up to his standards and I wasn't ready to start trying.
Then something changed within me. I began to grasp grace. Maybe it is just the maturity that comes with adulthood. Maybe it is watching my teenagers learn to navigate this hard world on their own. Maybe it is the candid glances in the mirror when I see my wrinkles and gray hairs becoming more prominent. But I just know that my focus has shifted. I no longer hope Jesus waits until...whatever I thought I had to experience before I was ready for him. Nope, as far as I'm concerned he can stop the madness right now and ride his white horse right into this world, whisking us all away in the twinkling of an eye.
We have a good, good shepherd. He leads us to fresh water, to green grass. He carries us through pain and tragedy and fear and rejection and death and promises eternity will be worth the journey. Oh, how I long for that forever. How I long to see my family and friends safely home and away from the hard of this life.
As Advent marches on, we can look forward in faith, in trust, in longing for the day that our faith will be made sight. Our shepherd sees over every hill, across every valley, and he leads us gently.
Rest awaits, dear sisters. When we are tired and stretched thin, we can turn our faces toward the One who holds the hanky and will gently wipe away every tear.
We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain...Hebrews 6:19
Sometimes I read the news and I want to unsee everything I just saw. I look at my children, at their peers, growing up in this hard, mixed-up, terror-infested world and worry threatens. Too many of them put on a good show, pretending there is nothing going on that should bring them to their knees in prayer and living life as if old-age is guaranteed. Others, though the minority, have an inner maturity, an ability to see beyond the veil and long for the return of their Savior from a very young age.
I was once one of the former, choosing to ignore the potential of life being cut short, not realizing that life had not yet truly begun. God was distant and often displeased and I did not want to be near him. I knew I didn't measure up to his standards and I wasn't ready to start trying.
Then something changed within me. I began to grasp grace. Maybe it is just the maturity that comes with adulthood. Maybe it is watching my teenagers learn to navigate this hard world on their own. Maybe it is the candid glances in the mirror when I see my wrinkles and gray hairs becoming more prominent. But I just know that my focus has shifted. I no longer hope Jesus waits until...whatever I thought I had to experience before I was ready for him. Nope, as far as I'm concerned he can stop the madness right now and ride his white horse right into this world, whisking us all away in the twinkling of an eye.
We have a good, good shepherd. He leads us to fresh water, to green grass. He carries us through pain and tragedy and fear and rejection and death and promises eternity will be worth the journey. Oh, how I long for that forever. How I long to see my family and friends safely home and away from the hard of this life.
As Advent marches on, we can look forward in faith, in trust, in longing for the day that our faith will be made sight. Our shepherd sees over every hill, across every valley, and he leads us gently.
Rest awaits, dear sisters. When we are tired and stretched thin, we can turn our faces toward the One who holds the hanky and will gently wipe away every tear.
We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain...Hebrews 6:19
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