Glimpses of Heaven in a Fallen World

In Christ alone my hope is found,

He is my light, my strength, my song;

this Cornerstone, this solid Ground,

firm through the fiercest drought and storm.

What heights of love, what depths of peace,

when fears are stilled, when strivings cease!

My Comforter, my All in All,

here in the love of Christ I stand.

~Stuart Townend (also beautifully performed by several other great musicians -- my faves are Newsboys, Avalon, Kristian Stanfill and Natalie Grant)

As I continue to struggle through health issues, God gives me a revelation (perhaps most of you have realized this already, sometimes it just takes me a little longer).  It’s a compilation of things I’ve known from the Bible and the church all my life, but it has finally clicked in my head and my heart.  The place we currently reside is truly not our home.  “But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body” (Philippians 3:20-21).  Despite God’s common grace, we will face adversity, trials, struggles, failure, and pain.  That’s the norm and where I should set my expectations.  In His great mercy, however, God gives us brief visions of glory.  

My first glimpse this week comes through a track meet at EMU.  Caleb’s a member of the Shenandoah Valley Track Club, but all ages are welcome to participate in the events for a small fee.  Caleb, Christina, and I decide to run the mile together in the midst of their other events.  As most of you know, I’m a SLOW runner, but I do have perseverance.  A favorite family motto is “Hupomeno!” which means (in Greek, which is my family heritage) to “not recede or flee; to preserve: under misfortunes and trials; to endure, bear bravely and calmly” (biblestudytools.com).  I’ve finished several half marathons and even a 25K.  I say that not to boast, but to say that there’s often a lot of extra pain involved in these kind of events for me, but it’s usually overshadowed by joy.  So even though I’m running with kids (and other experienced adult runners), I’m prepared to be dead last.  Caleb ran an 8:30 the last week, and I make him promise not to stay with me, because I don’t want to slow him down.  As I run around the track, I observe what a beautiful cool evening God has given us.  It’s peaceful, almost relaxing.  I jog along to my iPod but notice my pace picks up when I hear a good rap song or people cheering for me (my amazing family is so supportive, and my friend Tameka who’s a former JMU cheerleader).  On the last lap, I start to feel uncomfortable, but I picture my high school track coach yelling from the field, “Don’t save too much V!!”  So as I round the last corner, I give it all I’ve got.  Arms pumping, biting my lip, shirt coming untucked, I feel like a bit of a buffoon.  But I don’t come in last (a miracle!) and beat my goal of 10 minutes by 50 seconds (Caleb finishes at 8:19 and Christina, her first mile race at 7 years old, 9:55).  As I’m resting and getting a bite to eat at with my family on our blanket, I notice a young black kid slowly walking by and looking at us repeatedly.  I smile and say, “Hey buddy, you hungry?  Want some goldfish?”  He looks longingly at the track and says, “No, I just wanna race.  But I ain’t got no money.”  I contemplate his tattered T-shirt and too big, unmatched “dress shoes” and ask him where his parents are.  He says they’re “not around” but he lives close by.  I ask him if he has tennis shoes and he runs at breakneck speed to get them.  Dave pays the $3 and signs him up for the 400M.  As we cheer for him, I think, “Man, that kid can run!”  He comes in 4th place among a big group of experienced and older kids.  I feel a sense of pride like I do with my own children as I get him water and help him walk around and stretch (he had lain on the ground immediately after finishing the race).  I tell him to come back to the next meet.  He doesn’t say “thank you,” but I don’t care.  That small act of giving is God ministering to my own soul. 

The next glimpse comes Friday morning when I meet a new church friend, Kara, at the gym.  Although we’re both working out, we decide it’s a great opportunity to put the kids in childcare to talk and pray.  Kara gives birth to sweet Elsa over a year ago, but contracts an infection that almost costs her life.  She recovers, but loses her leg.  I know a lot about her through friends and church prayer chains, but we’ve only recently met through her husband, Mike, the ER nurse who helped me.  I had been somewhat intimidated to approach her (what do you say, “Hey, so you’re the girl who lost her leg, right?”) and she later admits she didn’t have the guts to talk to ME.  Ha!  As we sit on an old wooden bench overlooking a field overgrown with wildflowers and butterflies, we share deeply.  We realize our pain/health struggles are polar opposites.  She wishes hers to be invisible, because she can’t go anywhere without people noticing (someone literally asked her at the grocery store if she’d been in the Boston Marathon!?).  I, on the other hand, look normal and healthy to most people.  My Dr. tells me my lab work looks better than his.  So while I’m in pain, others often can’t relate or don’t feel compassion because it’s not obvious to them.  I think this conversation is key to each of us appreciating the other person’s experience and applying it to our own struggle.  We hold hands and pray -- new sisters in Christ, and I feel our hearts join together.

Later, I take the kids for ice cream at our local dairy bar, Kline’s.  Looking back on all the time I spent in bed or moaning on the bathroom floor recently, this feels extra-special.  We all sit around laughing while delicious ice cream drips down our chins.  Then, I get a text from my cousin saying he’s been reading my blog and since I love music, he’s sending me a stereo system compatible with my phone.  Talk about an unexpected blessing!  Even though I’m beginning to have a bad “Fibro” day and have to take extra pain meds, I see beauty through the ashes.

That very same day, someone comes to clean my house due to my mother-in-law’s generosity.  When I walk in the door, I gasp.  Our house hasn’t been this clean since we bought it and moved in a year and a half ago!  I breathe a sigh of relief and contentment, and feel a burden lift.

The next day, Dave’s playing in a local volleyball tourney.  We enjoy meeting the other players, most of whom are young and unmarried.  A few of them sweetly interact with my children.  One guy says to me, “Wow, your kids are so well-behaved.  What do you do to get them like that?”  Laughing, I respond, “Well, they certainly don’t always act that way.  But we pray a lot, and they have a strong father figure.  But mostly it’s God’s grace.”  He looks at me with curiosity, and I can tell he’ll be ruminating on that conversation long afterward.  My husband plays very well, and his team wins the entire tournament!  This is wonderful news, but he barely makes it home in time to get ready for a party we’re hosting that night (ironically, he returns and immediately sets up another volleyball net!!).

  We’re having a “celebration” of my (mostly) recovery to appreciate all those who blessed us during the two weeks I suffered the most.  About 30 of us come together to eat, play volleyball & yard games, and fellowship.  The kids have a blast in the bouncy house our neighbor loans us.  Then we gather on the deck as the sun sets, while our worship pastor, Burress, blesses us with the gift of music.  He sings “my song” -- “Standing on Strength” -- that I wrote about in my blog “Dancing with Jesus.”  My heart overflows with praise as we sing 10,000 Reasons, Alli en la Cruz, Better is One Day, Blessed Be Your Name, Be Thou My Vision, Before the Throne of God Above, Jesus Cast a Look on Me, I’ll Fly Away, and others.  In closing, we call up the children as the stars sparkle brightly in the sky.  All together, we sing “Jesus Loves Me” and close with the Doxology.  It’s a magical night, and for a few hours, I feel absolutely no pain.

Check out this link to see Burress Singing

So yes, we live in a broken world.  The reality is I will probably always live with some level of pain.  Hebrews says this about the saints of old of the “hall of faith” -- people like Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Sarah, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, and Rahab: 

    

"These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.”

Hebrews 11:13-16

Jesus, I can’t wait to meet you!  Sometimes I wish it could be this very day.  Thank you for preparing a place for me.  In the meantime, as I sojourn through this foreign land, I thank you for the glimpses of heaven You pour out on me and my family.  All Glory to Your Great Name!