Category Archives: God’s plans for us

Come and get me.

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Any of us who’ve lost loved ones to death find our thoughts moving between two different worlds, the here and the hereafter. This back-and-forth thought process includes a pause at a theological stop sign: Christ’s second coming.

According to the calendar of human history, we’re living in that middle ground between Jesus’ first coming and his second, his first as a newborn who grew into our radical Savior, and his second as a victor in battle.

Once in a while I think, “What if Jesus returned to earth tonight?”

He promised that when he did come back, it would be to defeat evil and escort Christians to heaven. He actually said, “I’ll take you home with me.” (John 14:2)

I love that he’s implying we’ll feel right at home when we get to heaven. It’ll be similar to returning home after an arduous journey with a big “Ahhh” of contentment when we walk in the door. So I tell myself, “Wouldn’t it be spectacular if Jesus came today?” But I struggle to answer, “Yes.”

And there’s a good reason: I need more time to do better at living the Christian life.

Most of us get only 7 or 8 decades on the earth, and it took me about half of those to get into gear in my walk with the Lord. Much of my early life was bare-minimum believing as I straddled a spiritual fence between obedience and rebellion. Even now, already in my 60’s, I should be doing much better.

And so, I figure, I need more time to keep trying.

Is Jesus reading this and chuckling? Or is he reading it and saying, “You’ve got the right idea.” Being unsure of the answer is probably an indication of my spiritual immaturity. Of course I’m longing to be with Jesus and to experience walking into his home, finding the place he’s prepared for me there. But as the Bible so aptly puts it,”Night is coming, when no one can work.” (John 4:9) Time to try harder will eventually end.

My hesitation to head to heaven isn’t because I want to earn more glory-points. It’s about feeling badly over personal sin and hoping for time to practice godly living, to be a better daughter to God. Just as I wanted my earthly dad to be pleased with me and felt badly when he wasn’t, I have a strong longing to please my heavenly Father.

There’s just one nagging thought behind my philosophy of wanting more earthly time. What if my condition as a human being is exactly the factor that’s prohibiting greater success at godly living? I don’t mean to say ungodly desires aren’t the root cause, but what if even the most saintly person among us still feels like I do, no matter how many years she has to work on it?

In that case, it would be a really good thing if Jesus just came and got me tonight.

“To the one who does not work but trusts God, who justifies the ungodly, their faith is credited as righteousness.” (Romans 4:5)

Waiting

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Today I spent nearly three hours standing in line at an office that was trying to service too many people. We waited in single file along the wall of a long, narrow corridor, hoping to be heard.

When I arrived, I asked another line-stander how long he’d been there. “Two hours so far,” he said.

The young student in front of me was a guy I’d seen 24 floors down at the lobby security check. I’d been ahead of him in that line, but somehow he’d gotten to the new line ahead of me. I berated myself for wasting 30 seconds finding the right elevator.

So we waited. A man with a cane (complaining loudly) was finally given a chair, but a second complainer was told to sit on the floor.

When a man arrived with a little girl Skylar’s age, I knew they’d never make it. She’d brought a pink back-pack full of activities, and he’d filled his pocket with candy. But after 90 minutes they’d run through their entertainment and gave up, ducking under the ribbon “fence” and heading home.

Although it was frustrating to wait in my poorly chosen shoes, the people-watching was fascinating. Each new arrival began by asking the official at the head of the line, “Where do I go to talk to someone about my problem?”

And to each person he’d say, “Get in line,” while pointing a finger in our direction. Mouths dropped open and objections were made. “I’ve got to get this done on my lunch hour!” (Chuckle, chuckle and another point to the end of the line.)

Or, “This is my day off. If I don’t get it done today, I’ll have to wait a whole week!” (Chuckle, point.)

When the clock inched toward closing time, the representative arrived to knock off most of the waiting line. “We won’t get to any of you people today,” she said, sweeping her hand over most of those waiting. Their groans rose up in unison.

I was third-to-last, grateful I could continue to wait. Sadly, at the end of the meeting, my advisor couldn’t help except to suggest several other offices with new lines to stand in.

Today’s waiting ordeal was a perfect picture of why we have trouble waiting on God. Just as the authorities wouldn’t let us even look into the room where we hoped to go, God doesn’t let us see our future or the details of how our prayers will be answered. And just as we had no idea how long our wait would be, the Lord doesn’t clue us into how long our troubles will last. And just as the office personnel had all the power today and we had none, God is sovereign over the events of our lives. And just as we grew uncomfortable as the hours passed, waiting for the Lord can become downright painful.

When the waiting ordeal was over and I finally got back to my car, I vented to Jack, who had been waiting, too. He wagged his tail as if to say, “Welcome to my world.”

“Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!” (Psalm 27:14)

 

A Picture of Health

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Today I spent a frustrating hour seated on a stool in front of a Walgreen’s photo kiosk trying to order prints. I had two cameras, two different sized “cards” and only minimal understanding of how to work the machine. One of the cards needed an adaptor, plus I had two different coupons.

After interrupting the cashier for help six times, I got to the end of my order and muffed the coupon screen. This time she said, “I think I’ll get the manager, even though he’s on his dinner break.”

I’d probably be the laughable subject in the break room later on, but I didn’t care, as long as I walked out of there with my pictures.

The manager was a tall, 30-something “kid” with a winning way. While working on my “case” he punched enough computer buttons to write a letter, but eventually we got it sorted, and I got my 25 free prints. We were half way through the money transaction for the rest when he noticed my name on the order. “Nyman, eh? We might be related.”

“How so?” I said.

“I’m relatives with lots of Nymans from this area.”

We chatted for a few precious minutes of his dinner break when unexpectedly he said, “My dad died recently.”

I was surprised but put my purse and pictures on the counter and said, “When?”

“Three days before Christmas,” he said, looking down.

“Oh my. That’s really recent.”

“Yeah.”

“What did he die of?”

“Pancreatic cancer.”

Suddenly we were related. I learned his dad had had only eight weeks and that a cherished uncle had also died just a few days before his father. As he talked, his face was pinched with grief, and my heart grew heavy for him.

When the conversation finished, I said, “I’m so sorry about your dad and your uncle.”

He bowed his head and muttered, “Thanks.”

Driving home I felt queasy. While growing up, I hadn’t heard much about disease and dying. Now it’s everywhere, which must be part and parcel of being 60-something. Yet this young man was only in his 30’s. My kids were young, too, three in their 30’s, three in their 20’s, one still a teen. Although friends prayed for their dad to be healed, Nate died.

God has been called the great physician, the miraculous healer. I’ve learned, though, that he usually sidesteps physical ailments to focus on healing hearts. Dr. Luke describes a moment when the Jewish leaders were criticizing Jesus for associating with sinners and eating with “the riff-raff.”

Jesus gave them a sharp response: “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.” (5:31-32) His desire was to heal sin-sickness, because when that gets healed, eternal good health becomes a sure thing.

Today at the Walgreens counter, I wish I’d asked the young manager if I could pray for him then and there. People usually receive that gladly, and maybe it would have led to something significant.

Maybe I’ll take a few more pictures and head back to the kiosk with coupons that I’m not quite sure how to use.
“By his wounds you have been healed.” (1 Peter 2:24)