How true…

Today I spent some time with a skin doctor here in Michigan who’s gradually becoming my friend. She’s invited me to call her by her first name (Deborah), which is a good thing since she runs her hands over every square inch of me.

Today Deborah was on a meticulous hunt for sun damage and skin cancer. Although the word “cancer” floods me with negatives, the words “skin cancer” have been part of our family since Mom began having spots removed 20 years ago.

Being raised on a Lake Michigan beach had numerous advantages, but the one disadvantage was a slow, steady assault on our youthful skin at a time when sun screens hadn’t been invented. We viewed sunburns as a happy signal that summer had arrived, and our parents believed a burn would eventually morph into the “base” for a safe and healthy tan. And tans, they thought, protected our skin for the rest of the summer.

We all know better now and have sun screens galore. Skin damage, though, is permanent, and beach lovers of my generation are all dotted with it. When I arrived home after my appointment, several projects awaited, one of which was reframing a few photographs. Amazingly, God linked one of them to my skin travails. I’d just had 11 pre-cancerous spots removed and was feeling decrepit, but he encouraged me with a lovely thought.

My very favorite “last picture” of Nate from all those taken during the 42 days he had cancer, had needed a better frame. It’s been sitting atop his high boy dresser in our bedroom as a daily reminder of my good history with him. This afternoon as I set the newly framed picture back in its spot next to a plaque Mary had given me, I caught my breath. I’d seen the picture hundreds of times and the plaque, too, but not until today, after a doctor’s appointment reminded me of my decline, did I link the two.

The plaque says, “The LORD your God is with you.”

Looking at Nate and I together in the picture, it struck me that the two of us now relate to that plaque in radically different ways. Although I know God is with me, his presence isn’t literal. Nate believes the statement, too, but for him it’s literally true.

Receiving that thought from the Lord lifted my sinking spirits, which had been completely focused on the inevitability of physical deterioration. It reminded me that one day bodily wear and tear will end for me, too, just as it has for Nate.

I hope I can  hang onto that positive thought long enough not to worry about what’s going to happen 6 months from now. That’s when Deborah is expecting me to swing by for another intimate visit.

“We know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus from the dead will also raise us with Jesus. Therefore we do not lose heart.” (2 Corinthians 4:14,16)

Up and Out

Nine days ago I was working at the computer one night when I heard a strange scratching in the kitchen. It sounded like a giant mouse running around in a cabinet. When I went to investigate, I realized whatever it was was running around in the small cupboard above the stove. I didn’t dare open the door.

That cabinet had been a rodent residence before, until I got around to buying mouse poison. But knowing this one probably squeezed in through the fan vent made me hope he might depart the same way.

The next morning it was quiet, but I bought some D-Con poison to put in the cabinet anyway, just in case. The morning after that I checked the poison, and the industrial-sized rodent had returned, had eaten most of the cardboard boxes and also what was inside them.

I closed the door and decided to let nature take its course.

But night after night the scratching returned, 8 evenings in a row. This was one resistant mouse! Then yesterday morning I opened the cabinet and shrieked. Lying down, pressed between the cabinet door and my cookbooks, was a BIG something! In a nano-second I slammed the cabinet shut and wondered what it was! Surely it wasn’t a 9” long mouse! Maybe a rat?

I decided not to open the cabinet again, worrying he might fly out at my face and bite me with his poison-drenched teeth. But later when Mary came, we cracked it open to take a peek. He was still lying there but had changed his position.

Not knowing what to do, we did nothing. I rubberband-ed the cabinet closed, and we decided to sleep on it. When we carefully opened the door today, we got our first good look at him. A baby squirrel! I felt awful. Why would a baby squirrel be running around in winter weather?

He had died, but probably died happy. Three boxes of palette-pleasing poison were completely gone. No doubt he’d looked forward to his special end-of-the-day treat every evening.

“Well,” I said, searching for a silver lining, “at least he won’t have to struggle through a cold winter.”

Sometimes I think that same silver lining applies to people, too. God removes someone from this troubled world, taking them to heaven, and we wonder why a life was “cut short.” Could it be he wanted to spare them from a “cold winter?” That’s a question to which we’ll get an answer only in eternity.

I do know in Nate’s case that he’ll never have to struggle with the winter of old age or die in the cold reality of a long, drawn-out illness. Being spared of those is blessing indeed. But even better than that is his new life of “joy unspeakable and full of glory.” (1 Peter 1:8)

It’s already begun!

“Good people pass away; the godly often die before their time. No one seems to understand that God is protecting them from the evil to come.” (Isaiah 57:1)

Heavenly Sunshine

When I was a child, we Sunday school kids loved to belt out this sing-songy little chorus:

 

  • Heavenly sunshine, heavenly sunshine,
  • Flooding my soul with glory divine!
  • Heavenly sunshine, heavenly sunshine,
  • Hallejuiah! Jesus is mine!

I always thought the best word in there was “heavenly.” If something was heavenly, I knew it was extra good. I figured heavenly sunshine must be superior to earthly sunshine, which was already pretty nice. Mom fed into my thinking without realizing it when she described something phenomenal as, “Out of this world!”

Although I was young, I was on the right track. Scripture says we should all spend time thinking about what’s going on in heaven. Of course the best thing there is the Godhead, and thinking about our Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is always a worthwhile mental investment.

Since Nate died, I’ve been investing a great deal of new thought on his being “out of this world,” and according to the Bible, these thoughts have God’s stamp of approval. Colossians says, “Since you have been raised to new life with Christ, set your sights on the realities of heaven.” (3:1) Although I can’t detail exactly what Nate is doing, seeing, or thinking, I know all of it is heavenly, so it must be phenomenal.

When we follow God’s urging to think heavenward, the result is that we’re lifted out of our present-day doldrums and planted into the supernatural. And this is a very specific supernatural that belongs only to Jesus Christ. Although he knows we’re currently grounded on earth with its frustrations and limitations, he invites us to pick up one foot and plant it in eternity… right now. When we do, it changes our view of earthly life.

We’ve all heard the expression, “She’s so heavenly minded, she’s no earthly good.” That’s not what Scripture means. We can “think heavenly” without having our “head in the clouds.” Jesus wants us to claim the blessings he died to give us, not just in the hereafter, but today. He wants us to think about him waiting for us and meditate on the home he’s preparing for us. He says when we do, the negative influence of our current troubles will shrink. Even more importantly, he wants us to think about our membership in his family. By accepting salvation, we’ve died to earthly existence and have come alive spiritually. And he means today, right now.

When we practice “thinking heavenly,” we’re transported above the down and dirty parts of everyday living to the coming conclusion of our lives as believers. And that’s ok by me: closer to Jesus, closer to Nate, and closer to all of that heavenly sunshine!

“Think about the things of heaven, not the things of earth. For you died to this life, and your real life is hidden with Christ in God.” (Colossians 3:2,3)