Brides and Kings: A Parable About Submission

Brides and Kings: A Parable About Submission

1Peter 3:7 Likewise husbands, live with your wives in an understanding way . . .

The day she married the king, he carried her easily over the threshold; like she was nothing. He was strong, decisive, commanding and made her feel dainty and protected. Then the palace doors closed, the light dimmed, altering both of their appearances. Dainty distorted into feeble; strong, decisive, protective into intimidating, selfish, and oppressive. She washed his pants, dried his pants, and put his pants away, but he never let her forget who wore them. Her gown had once allowed her room to move forward, but now it clung to her legs and held her still. She, who had been captivated, was now a frightened captive. She looked out the windows and wondered where she’d left herself. The wide lawn, the fields and forests that surrounded his palace offered no freedom, but only confirmed her isolation. If his pants weren’t cared for to his specifications, punishment came without mercy - - sometimes with angry words, sometimes with violence, and sometimes with silence; the silence being the worst because with it he erased her. Her groom took things from her: peace, joy, hope, and the knowledge of who she was. He gave her things as well: a knot in her stomach, a fear of what might come next, a sense of dread, and loneliness. She felt helpless.

1Peter 3:7 Likewise husbands live with your wives in an understanding way, showing honor to the woman as the weaker vessel . . .

The day she married the king, he stopped just outside the door and set her on her tiny feet. He didn’t bother carrying her over the threshold. She paused, unsure of what she should do when he closed the door in front of her. Finally, reaching for the knob she entered on her own. Sighing, she picked the pants off the floor and somehow knew that she was in for a lifetime of repeating this exact motion. And she was right. Day after day, the pants lay untended and empty. Day after day she washed them, dried them, put them away only to find them strewn again on the floor. The day came when she didn’t know what to do. She thought she had to put them on so she did - - just for a bit - - that was her intention anyway. But he seized the opportunity. He seemed to like them on her frame. She noticed that sometimes they felt coarse and understood why he didn’t want to wear them. She’d tried softening them, making them more malleable, but the cloth they were cut from just wasn’t meant to yield. They were work pants. So she put them on and worked. He slipped into the shadows, stared at the screens, and seemed content. Each day the pants grew heavier, encumbering her every step and holding her still. She looked out the windows and imagined what it would be like to run the fields, and wander the forest where she could finally get out of his pants once and for all; where she could move forward in freedom and no one would expect so much from her. Her groom took things from her: peace, joy, hope, and the knowledge of who she was. He gave her things as well: a sense of despair, a difficult yoke, a heavy burden, and loneliness. She felt helpless.

1Peter 3:7 Likewise husbands live with your wives in an understanding way, showing honor to the woman as the weaker vessel, since they are heirs with you of the grace of life . . .

The very day the King won her heart, He carried her over the threshold and once inside, He never required she stand alone on her own tiny feet. The palace He built for her was clear and bright, every corner illuminated. It was a spacious place where her gown didn’t bind, stifle, or confine. She could move, but found, oddly, she didn’t want to be anywhere else. When she washed, dried, and put away His pants, He said, “Well done good and faithful wife,” and smiled, sending the heavenly bodies into hiding because they could not compare to the beam from His visage. She understood that those pants would never fit her - - or anyone else - - but it didn’t matter because she didn’t need to wear them. Her King lavished her with fine clothes of the purest cloth that warmed her in the cold and cooled her in the heat. He covered her in a way that everyone who saw her knew beyond doubt that she was treasured. He left the doors wide open so she could run the fields, and wander the forests as she pleased. He knew she’d always return home because He loved how happy her freedom made her. Her King took some things from her: shame, fear, mortality. He didn’t just give her things, He poured into her: life, peace, joy, patience, kindness, gentleness, self-control,  goodness, faithfulness, and love. He filled her with a sense of trust because she knew He would never harm her, never raise a hand against her, but only and always had her best in mind. He filled her with courage because she knew He would never step back, hold up his hands in any sort of surrender, and leave her to face things alone. He gave her Himself, and in doing so, gave her the clearest knowledge of who she was - - His.

Some may try and convince you that submission is the same as oppression and if you choose the wrong king - - it often is. But it’s not meant to be. Submitting to the right husband, like submitting to Christ, should be an ‘ahhhhh’ moment - - a long drink of icy water when you’re hot, exhausted, and thirsty; your head hitting the pillow after a day of hard labor; the good kind of soreness you feel after a long hike in the fresh air. Submission is meant to make us free - - free from burdens that we aren’t built to carry alone, free from self-absorption that binds us, stifles our growth, and holds us still. It’s meant to free us from loneliness, to lift our cares so far from our solitary shoulders that we are able to think and breathe and learn who we are. Submission to a true, pure love is the greatest release we will ever know.  

All-Out Worship

Eternal worship. Worship forever. Unending praise. Songs that never end. Singing and singing, eyes closed, hands raised, swaying, floating. A swirling spirit drifting endlessly amongst the clouds . . . forever. Singing . . . forever . . . and ever.

I love to sing. But not that much. I don’t want to do it, exclusively - -  forever. I want to do lots of things. As soon as I was old enough to know that people could do things - - be something, my list of possibilities became both lengthy and varied. It included but was not limited to: auto mechanic, actress/singer/dancer, forest ranger, politician, teacher, writer, lawyer, Olympic figure skater, Olympic swimmer, botanist, naturalist, firefighter, painter, and on and on. When God made me, He made a whole life; created years of human interactions and opportunities for my participation in His grand scheme.

The first man, though made from the dust, was much more than an animated clay figure. He may have been momentarily wide-eyed after pulling in that first shared breath with God Almighty, but the story doesn’t progress far before we learn he was no innocent, and that an innate and keen intelligence was a part of his make-up. God did not command Adam to bow down, to sing, or fall on his face.  He gave Adam work. Adam was placed in the garden to tend it; assigned the colossal task of naming all the animals. Imagine thousands of species; feathered, furred, armored; all scurrying, flying, climbing, swimming, or swinging past you, waiting to be identified. Adam was to have dominion over the whole Earth. He was the start of everything human. Inherent in God’s instruction was that he would be able. The creation of mankind was the creation of exploration, reason, research, organization, dreams, questions. In other words, God created much more than two human beings. He created society and culture, music and art, government, architecture. He created a family, but the intention was clear - - multiply, fill the earth, subdue it; Family became tribe, became nation; garden became city; and cave became palace. The seed was “very good” and was meant to affect the planet. People were meant to do lots of things.

Tiny ideas of what it means to be human, produce tiny ideas of what it is to worship, and as a result we dread eternity. If we are made only to float and sing, then yes, we are in for a long, miserable forever. But we are made capable, creative, and inventive. We come with more than potential; we are guaranteed, made in the image of the Lord of the Universe; equipped to rule with Christ.  We have ingenuity and drive, curiosity, and a tendency to think forward. Consider this statement from the introduction to the book, Connections, by James Burke: “A self-educated Scottish mechanic once made a minor adjustment to a steam pump and triggered the whole Industrial Revolution. A nineteenth century weatherman developed a cloud-making device that just happened to reveal to Ernest Rutherford, a physicist he knew, that the atom could be split. Thanks to a guy working on hydraulic pressure in Italian Renaissance water gardens we have the combustion engine.”  When God, in Genesis 1:26 said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth,”  He knew Revelation 5:9 and 10 to be, not possibility or probability, but certainty: “And they sang a new song saying, ‘Worthy are you to take the scroll and to open its seals, for you were slain, and by your blood you ransomed people for God from every tribe and language and people and nation, and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God, and they shall reign on the earth.” (ESV) He knew we would keep pressing, keep building. He hid eternity in our hearts; an eternity filled with a kingdom of diverse people from different cultures, with different gifts. People who were made to do lots of things.

A.W. Tozer defines worship this way: “Worship is to feel in your heart and express in some appropriate manner a humbling but delightful sense of admiring awe and astonished wonder and overpowering love in the presence of that most ancient mystery, that majesty which philosophers call the First Cause, but which we call our Father which art in heaven.”  Beautiful and accurate definition, but take a look at Psalm 148.

Praise the Lord! Praise the Lord from the heavens! Praise Him from the skies!

Praise Him, all his angels! Praise Him, all the armies of heaven!

Praise Him, sun and moon! Praise him, all you twinkling stars!

Praise Him, skies above! Praise him, vapors high above the clouds!

Let every created thing give praise to the Lord, for He issued His command and they came into being.

He set them in place forever and ever. His decree will never be revoked.

Praise the Lord from the earth, you creatures from the ocean depths,

 fire and hail, snow and clouds, wind and weather that obey Him,

mountains and all hills, fruit trees and all cedars,

wild animals and all livestock, small scurrying animals and birds,

 kings of the earth and all people, young men and young women, old men and children.

Let them all praise the name of the Lord. For His name is very great; His glory towers over the Earth and Heaven!

He has made His people strong, honoring His faithful ones - - the people of Israel who are close to Him. Praise the Lord! (Psalm 148 NLT)

How do “fruit trees” or the “vapors high above the clouds” express awe, wonder, and love? What is an appropriate manner for all of creation when it comes to praise and worship of God? I read many definitions of worship in preparation for this post, but all of them were in relation to humanity alone. All spoke of a response to God, a celebration, an adoration and awe on the part of believing humans. But according to Psalm 148, worship and praise do not belong to mankind alone. “Every created thing” must give praise to God. The means, or method of praise, as portrayed in this passage, is obedience to God; in doing and being what He created everything and everyone to do and be. You can make a distinction between praise and worship, I suppose, but praise is the expression of worship - - they are inseparable.

How does a fruit tree praise its Maker? From a branch comes a bud then a blossom. A tender flower evolves to a firm, edible fruit. The fruit, uneaten, over-ripens and is pushed to the ground. Further decay leaves behind a seed that settles into the soil. The seed’s hull splits and roots push through the earth drawing up nutrients and water, feeding a green shoot that unfurls, lifting its head toward light. Its trunk extends, sending out shoots, branching in a pattern pre-determined by God. Spring produces buds; summer, leaves. Fall brings a display of rusts, reds, pinks, and golds, signaling leaf-death. The tree again pushes, and dead foliage descends leaving a bare figure standing stark against a steel-white winter sky until spring’s return. For its entire life the tree will not stop growing and will follow the seasonal course decreed by the Maker. In this way a tree obeys - - just like “creatures from the ocean depths, fire and hail, snow and clouds, wind and weather.”  In  obedience, a fruit tree displays a kind of worship.

As I sit here, my lungs pull in and expel air, ridding my body of carbon dioxide and filling it with oxygen. My heart pumps that oxygen to every cell in my body, feeding my muscles and organs. These actions, not within my control, not by my design, magnify the One who sets and keeps them in motion. In Him I live and move and have my being. In living and moving and being, I am a display of the magnificence of God’s handiwork. My body acts in obeisance to its Sovereign Maker - - it cannot do anything else.   

Do we worship in conscious deliberate ways like singing, dancing, lifting our hands? Of course we do and should. That type of worship is unique to humanity. Do we worship in “unconscious” ways? Or, better said, are we “unconscious” of all the ways we worship? I am choosing to write of the glories of God and our eternal home - - I am conscious of my choice to worship in this way. But my ability to move my fingers over these keys, to think and put my thoughts together in a way that is, hopefully, clear is worship also - - a magnification of the brilliant creative power of God. An exhibition that, whether I am aware of it or not, honors and exalts him; proclaims his brilliance and power.

I’ve been told that humanity was made to worship. I looked for Scripture stating this, and thought that I didn’t find any. But I did. Genesis 1:26: “Then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.” Genesis 1:28: “And God blessed them. And God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subdue it and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over every living thing that moves on the earth.’”  Genesis 2:15a: “The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it.” Genesis 2:19: “So out of the ground the Lord God formed every beast of the field and every bird of the heavens and brought them to the man to see what he would call them. And whatever the man called every living creature that was its name.”

Made in the image of a God who could’ve said, “garden,” and had a garden, but instead planted one. Made in the image of a God who drew up the blueprint for a tabernacle. Made in the image of a God who drew up the blueprint for humanity and made them able to build and beautify. Made in the image of a God who works; who does lots of things. Made to worship in our work because it is amazing that God made us able to live and move and be. How anyone ever came to the conclusion that God would be glorified in transforming His greatest treasures, his children, his bride, his builders, his gardeners from productive, creative, intelligent, strong workers to wispy, ethereal puffs of energy floating around doe-eyed for eternity is beyond me. How would that magnify and exalt the Maker? How does a picture of every tribe, tongue, and nation promised to be a royal priesthood and a kingdom evolve into angels and harps and singing and singing and singing?

We think what we need is to go back in time to a simpler era, a more innocent day. But innocence was lost long before the Puritans or Leave it to Beaver. Going back would not help. It isn’t a more primitive time we long for, but an eternal progress, eternal work, eternal making and doing, building and growing - - that’s what we really want. We were made to affect this globe, but we were also made for an imperishable inheritance - - a forever-Earth in a kingdom of righteousness, a kingdom where all our creativity, intelligence, physical strength and agility, dreams and questions will be unhindered by selfish ambition. Right now, sin holds us back from being all we were made to be. We create and invent out of greed or a desire for praise. We are held back by the corruption of our physical bodies, confined to wheelchairs or beds, maybe unable to speak, unable to work in the traditional sense, or even breathe without a machine’s assistance. But one day, sin will be gone, and we will bloom and progress, uncorrupted and enduring, beyond our wildest imaginings. We will give our bodies to God, not as Old-Covenant animals meant for death, but as living sacrifices. Our physical self, united with our spiritual self - - this is the way to truly worship; with our whole person. (Romans 12:1)

All we will do is worship, and as rulers of a New Earth, worship will mean doing lots of things.  

Forever Awareness - Part Two

I work.  I sit in the living room, on the sofa of someone I have just met. I ask personal questions: “Have your bowels moved today?” “Are you urinating O.K.?” This is my routine. I am a home-health nurse. While I probe into the life of this one deemed by God to stay here for now, visitors arrive - - a pastor and his wife. Greetings are exchanged, I take the time to write, but I listen. Talk of the passing of a sister in Christ is the topic and the responses are these: “What a shame.”  “So sad.”  Bowed heads shake back and forth and finally someone says, “Well, at least she’s with the Lord.”  “At least . . . she’s with . . . the Lord.”  I feel, in this moment, as if I am enclosed in a round lens; wrapped in a new perspective. These words and regretful expressions fill my ears - - I hear them and I am side-swiped. They slip over me from inside my bubble, like a stream slips over a smooth, little stone; the molecules move so fast they never become familiar. These words are not familiar to my heart. “At least . . . she’s with . . . the Lord.”  My brow furrows, my head tilts. I am confused. “At least?”  “The Lord?”   

“Arise, O LORD! Confront him, subdue him! Deliver my soul from the wicked by your sword, from men by your hand, O LORD, from men of the world whose portion is in this life.  You fill their womb with treasure; they are satisfied with children, and they leave their abundance to their infants.

As for me, I shall behold your face in righteousness; when I awake, I shall be satisfied with your likeness.” (Psalm 17:13-15 ESV)

It is hard not to believe our “portion is in this life;” a struggle not to be “satisfied with children,” and all we will so proudly hand down to them. When we are young, we dream of all we will accomplish in our “lifetimes.” But age lets things go. We believe we are running out of time. We’ll never write that novel, learn to play an instrument, finish the basement, find a husband, have a baby.  Never . . . never . . .  never. 

But God says, “forever.”  We are meant to take part in this portion of our lives and to do so with gusto; but in the eyes of our children we should see the image of our Maker, as we give the best our hands and minds can muster in our workplace, we should remember a God who works, who makes, who builds. When our bodies operate according to plan, or when they don’t, we should be stunned, amazed, and flabbergasted by the beauty and intricacies of the creature that we are, and that we are by the hand of God. When we cross the threshold into our earthly structures and we feel content to be home, we should remember that we are only sampling what it feels like to truly be home. We are meant to discover Christ in all this life brings, and to find complete fulfillment and satisfaction in Him alone. “In Him we live and move and have our being.” (Acts 17:28 ESV) We “shall behold” His “face in righteousness.” Death of this body will come, but when we “awake,” from our deathless death, we “shall be satisfied,” - - completely - - with the person of Christ - - the image of the invisible God. As our bodies are dying, we are coming awake. As this flesh breaks down, we are being built up in our inner man. We have forever and we will see.  

“And this is eternal life, that they know you the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.”(John 17:3(ESV) This truth - - if you’ve never heard it before, or even if you’ve heard it a thousand times - - is the source of your restlessness. This is the treasure, the soothing balm, the bliss - - the rest we are looking for. I have longed more for a good book, a movie, a bubble bath. I have craved those things more than Heaven. But not now. A sense of eternity has invaded my space, or, more apt, has become my space, like a secret room; my lens enclosure.

From inside, my new view looks like this: The wind, isn’t just the wind, it’s like the Spirit, blowing where it will, moving my hair across my face, forcing my hand to push it aside so I can see. Seeds in my garden are not just seeds, they are like resurrection, a picture of my destiny. The sun is not just a big ball of gas, it warms me and rules my day as Christ does my heart. From inside this lens, I can see clearly that I’m not meant to finish it all now. The abilities and desires God has given are meant for the now and the not yet. They are everlasting. I will be a writer forever, a gardener forever, a singer forever. When I put pen to paper, nurture a seed, sing a song - - when I do those things now, I’m practicing. Practice, by Christ’s strength and grace, makes perfect. One day I will write, sing, and plant with a pure heart and an honest motive. The person I am was never meant to go away, but only to be cleansed, to be made ready for the best.  And when I go home, you can say of me, “At best . . . she’s with . . . the Lord.

Forever-Awareness Part One

“Now Joshua was old and advanced in years, and the Lord said to him, ‘You are old and advanced in years, and there remains yet very much land to possess.’” (Joshua 13:1 ESV)

We will leave things unfinished. On our last day here we may not make our bed or kiss our children. The shoes we slipped out of that morning may lie next to the back door waiting to hold our feet again. Our families will find grocery lists, to-do’s, and recipes in our handwriting; confounded by the interruption, their shoulders will stoop and their heads shake.

But this has always been the plan, that we will be on this earth, as it is and we are now, temporarily. It’s not that we don’t know that. We know it well. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be in such a hurry. We wouldn’t hurry through the day’s chores to leave time for reading or watching television. We wouldn’t graduate early, so we can hurry to advance our career so we can hurry and make more money, so we can retire early leaving more time for the things we enjoy. We wouldn’t hurry home from work, make a 30 minute meal, tuck the kids in with a quick kiss so we can find time to stop moving, close our eyes, complete a thought. It’s been the pattern our whole lives - - rushing to find rest.

Hebrews 4:11 offers a different perspective: “Let us therefore strive to enter that

rest . . .” (ESV) Striving is not rushing. “That rest” is not the same as our old-earth idea of rest and entering is not the same as forcing our way in.

In striving we are focused, purposed toward a particular end; we are on a quest.  God sent ancient Israel on a quest to enter a place where they would be free, fed - - home. Instead, they rushed toward daily relief, crying out for things they thought would soothe: meat, bread, water, idols of gold. God gave meat, bread, water, and Himself, but their angst continued and they came to their end teetering on rest’s precipice. They were acting like their oppressor, pleading for an end to every plague, promising obedience in return for relief. Yet when each cause of suffering lifted, their hearts, like the Egyptian king’s, turned to stone. Their idea of rest wasn’t nearly as grand as it should’ve been.

We enter. We don’t invade or invent God’s rest. Repeatedly God told Joshua that His people were to enter the land that He had given them. It didn’t look like He’d given them the land - - there were other people living there who seemed intent on staying. Maybe they couldn’t picture this land as theirs. Maybe, like Heaven, it seemed out of reach, too-good-to-be-true, undeserved. Maybe it seemed that way because, like Heaven, it was out of reach and too-good-to-be-true, and undeserved. Yet God said it was theirs and told them to enter.

The rest offered by God is not the end of our work day, a winter in Florida, or a quiet evening with a good book. Sin follows us to all of those places making the “rest” they provide not just temporary, but counterfeit. God’s rest is forever because in His rest we will no longer be sinful or be victimized by the sin of others. We will never have a thought that causes worry, never be irritated, never store up bitterness, and never cause another person pain or sorrow. We won’t be lazy, selfish, unkind; we will delight in God, in the person He’s made us to be, in all the people around us, and in our permanent home.

So how do we strive to rest?  I think striving, for the believer, is a sort of forever-awareness; a ceaseless prayer. In every moment, conversation, daily chore; in every inhalation and exhalation we have to find eternity. Created eternal beings, our never-ending journey began in the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth. From the start of everything God knew our names, the gifts He would bestow, and the good works that we would complete. We aren’t meant to find rest in employment, or retirement; in our children or current state of health; in our old-earth abodes or growing bank accounts. In everything - - all of those things, we are meant to find the one who withholds no good thing from us - - we are meant to find Christ. “And this is eternal life, that they know you the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.” (John 17:3 ESV)

So we will exit this earth. We will, like Joshua, leave things unfinished, but we will never be done - - there is still a land for us; an imperishable inheritance and life - - always life. Our exit from here will be our entrance there. It will be an interruption in our relationships with fellow believers as we move to Heaven, but not an interruption in our lives. We are without end. That, according to Scripture, is our reality. So take a deep breath and slow down a little. In Christ, you have all the time you need.

Cleaning Closets; Packing Light

Cleaning Closets; Packing Light

We spend most of our lives not thinking about Heaven.  But God brings moments; maybe days, weeks, years - - that cause us to think of little else; when all the things that have captivated our minds and hearts begin to fall behind. He designs some circumstance to reach into our backpacks and toss out our rows of ducks; to-do lists, irritabilities, righteous indignations, meaningless differences, self-glorifying accomplishments. They all tumble and scatter without fanfare to the side of the trail like a handful of pebbles. Once the dictators of our direction, now still and silent, no longer out in front guiding us on our hateful, crooked paths; instead, buried under leaves and sticks, hopefully destined for erosion. They leave their marks - - a part of our striations. They shape us, but they are not the big picture. Eternity, where we will be like Christ, is the big picture, and God wants us to see it.

Aging, for some of us, is a pebble-tosser. Hopefully, it brings wisdom to discern the supplies needed to live from all the nonessential weight.  Growing old, of course, is gradual and allows us time to ponder eternity, but sickness is of a different sort. Sickness reaches in and scoops out the gravel in a hurry. It comes at any age, in any stage of life. It feels like an interruption, but in light of forever, maybe it’s really more like an emergency brake. All of a sudden, we have to stop.  We have to be still and work on the most basic things - - breathing, heart beats, eating, digesting, sleeping. We are intent to grab hold of the plain things of life while God is tossing out pebbles.

In sickness, we are exposed. Physically, we are laid bare. People we’ve never met see and touch every part of our flesh. Bodily fluids, once hidden inside now run through tubes into various see-through containers.

Emotionally, we are laid bare. Tears, anxieties, anger, bitterness - - they all may come to the surface, as we deal with medical interventions and all sorts of discomforts.  For some of us, these emotions are more humiliating than all the bodily fluids in the world.

Spiritually we are laid bare. We snap at those who offer kindness. We don’t trust God with our lives, we may even feel angry with Him for this inconvenience - - this battle that we did not expect, desire, or feel as if we deserved. Sometimes, we cower and rage in the face of Heaven. 

But this circumstance, this part of the trail, is not just for the one who is ill. Sitting in the corner, trying to keep out of the way of all the tubes and cords and hospital staff, there is a daughter watching, forced to depend on God to heal, and to toss out her pebbles as well.  She too is thinking of Heaven.  It has moved out in front and is leading the way. She goes to the home of her loved one, to prepare, hopefully, for his return. It’s a familiar place for her - - was once her home, but she hasn’t been there in awhile. It has become a home full of clutter; void of people. She sees that the floors and furniture are dusty. She opens closets and sees they are filled with things from long ago; clothes no one wears, books no one reads. She sees a pencil drawing on the wall - - probably her own sneaky childhood artwork. The cupboards are full of quick, but unnourishing foods.

It was all those pebbles that kept her away, they seemed so heavy - - impossible to carry. She’d forgotten he was carrying some too. 

She bags unused items, tosses them in the trash, hauls them to the Salvation Army. She dusts and sweeps and mops, even decorates.  As she works, she hears a clattering from behind; it grows more and more faint. She looks back for a moment and sees those silly little pebbles. Hmm . . . all this time, she’d thought they were bigger - - more like boulders. How could she have been so deceived? 

She has an easier yoke now, a lighter burden - - just as God intends. He has turned her  eyes toward eternity. His promises are out in front, so she will pack light for this journey Home. She will strive not to lug around bitter contempt or regrets, but if they happen to show up in her pack, she will gladly open it, lay it bare, and invite the Father to reach in and clean her up. Faced with death, both she and her loved one grasped at life.  They were made for it, after all, eternity nestles in their hearts by the hand of God.

We are all made to live forever, but in God’s mercy, not in this state - - not tainted by sin in a corrupt world.  Living here, as is, would be like an eternal asthma attack, always struggling to breath freely, but never able. What are you carrying on your back?  What weighs you down and keeps you from glorious longings and imaginings of Heaven?  What’s stopping you from loving, helping, sharing? No matter what those things are, I can promise you, that in light of an eternal weight of glory, they are only pebbles. Let them go. Clean your closets and pack light.