Grains of Sand

Pixabay Somehow it seemed appropriate to end 2018 with this verse: “ He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away .” (Revelation 21:4) As we enter a new year we are reminded that we are just a little closer to the time when Revelation 21:4 will be the reality for those of us who know the Lord. Perhaps that reminder is a little more forceful for me today. Early in December, we got news of a cousin on my mother's side who had passed away. Just before Christmas, a FACEBOOK post announced the passing of a missionary colleague and friend. Last night came the news of the death of a cousin on my father's side. For friends and family far and wide 2018 has had its sorrows. But the promises of Scripture inevitably bring us the reassurance that, for the believer, the "end" is no end at all—it simply signals the beginning of the new order. No death. No mourning....

Pixabay Everyone, well, probably almost everyone, complains about having to work too hard. That is, in part, one of the consequences of sin according to those first few verses of the Bible. The curse that was placed on Adam because of the rebellion of the first family against their Creator includes the note: “ By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return ” (Genesis 3:19). In Eden the first family had everything provided for them. All they had to do was to take care of what God so generously gave them. But what God gave wasn’t enough for them and the rest, as they say, is history. But the more ominous part of the verse follows. Hard work will be man’s portion until he dies and returns to the dust from which he came. Psalm 104 echoes this statement: “ These all look to you to give them their food at the proper time. When you give it to them, they gather it up; when you open ...

Pixabay Genesis 19 is so rich, but my heart was drawn to verse 4 and held there by recent events. It’s been a week full of the unexpected. A more-or-less routine surgery, that was in itself successful, turned into a disaster. Not my surgery, but that of a very dear friend. On Monday night the doctors gave her very little chance of survival. Many people went to prayer on her behalf. By yesterday both the surgeon and the ICU doctor were “cautiously optimistic.” We are a long way from out of the woods yet, but we know that we are in the presence of a miracle. That’s why Genesis 19:4 caught my attention this morning. “ You yourselves have seen what I did in Egypt, and how I carried you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself .” Moses and the Hebrews have come to Mount Sinai. Here Moses will climb the mountain and receive the commandments that the Israelites are to follow as a nation and as individuals. There is an impressive protocol to follow as they prepare for this momentous even...

Pixabay If I could have, I would have shoved my feet through the floor of the bus and used my own legs to push it along. If mind ever had power over matter, mine should have forced the driver’s foot to press down harder on the accelerator. The night flashed by, faint outlines of trees interrupted by the occasional house dimly lit by a yard light or edged with Christmas bulbs. The road stretched before me. I willed it to end where I needed it to end, but perversely it refused, one curve morphing into yet another length of highway flecked with swirling snow. The demon of doubt whispered: She’s going to die before I get there . A desperate faith countered: Please don’t let her go before I arrive . Does a minute always take so long? How is it that an hour seems like an eternity? Eight hours on a bus crawling through the night. No flights available this close to Christmas. No trains leaving that would get me there any faster. Faster?   My demon doub...

Pixabay When we buried my father in September 1991, a light rain was falling. One of the ladies standing by the graveside remarked: "Heaven is crying with you, Lynda." At the time, and three months later when my mother passed away, we thought we'd never get past the weeping stage. In a sense we never have, though with time, the tears are less frequent and intense than they were twenty-five years ago. They are different. Today they are softened by a certainty that had a hard time making its presence felt back then in the midst of the sharp edges of loss. Psalm 30:5 says: " ...weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning ." In 1893, James Black wrote the words to When the Roll is Called Up Yonder. I will never forget the less the complimentary comments of one of my Seminary professors who criticized the song because the eschatology didn't match his. But nevertheless, it came to mind as I was thinking of the verse from Psalm 3...

Pixabay, Public Domain In 1921, the Women’s Missionary Society of his church presented my father with a devotional book. In his later years he read from it every day. The reading for September 26, the day in 1991 when my dad died, the Scripture verse on which the devotional was based was Psalm 23:4: “ Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me .” My father was alone in a hospital bed when he died—at least that was the regret I felt when I first learned the details of his passing. But later, after being divinely directed to check the devotional book dad always read, I was reminded again that, though no human being might have been with him, the Great Shepherd had been there to personally escort him through the valley. It was a huge comfort to me to remember that Truth. Whether the valleys of our lives be those of hardship, sorrow, illness, danger, or even death itself, what a wonderful blessing it is to know that our Shepher...

I recently had a conversation with a friend whose nephew is dying. As the family waits for what seems to be inevitable, they pray. My friend’s brother, father to the man who is so ill, is struggling with why God isn’t answering his prayers. I imagine that he is praying that his son will be healed—such a prayer would be natural. No father expects to bury his son. He’s been a believer for a long time. He understands that God always heals, but not always in the way that we would like Him to heal. But he still wants his son, alive and well—who can blame him? That conversation came to mind when I read Psalm 94 this morning. Many of us have times when we wonder if God is even aware of our struggles, if He is listening to our prayers. The psalmist reminds us: “ Does he who implanted the ear not hear? Does he who formed the eye not see? Does he who disciplines nations not punish? Does he who teaches man lack knowledge?” (Psalm 94:9, 10) The psalmist is dealing with one of those questions: I...

Waste. That’s what has niggled at the back of my mind this week. At the beginning of this month a message was left on my voice mail from the sister of a long-time friend. She didn’t say what it was about but I was pretty certain Rita would only call me if Jean had passed away. She didn’t leave her phone number and I couldn’t find it on Canada 411 so I hoped she would call back. This past Monday she did. We talked for a long time and I was left with the sad reminder of how wasted Jean’s life had been in so many ways. Yes, she lived into her sixties but many of those years were lonely and fraught with both emotional and physical pain. Jean was the kind of person that most people don’t “see.” I had my share of regrets. I wished I had been a better friend on those occasions when I had the chance to be. Sometimes I didn’t “see” Jean either. Over the past few weeks, and twice this week, three young people have died in our little town. One young man killed himself after killing his parents....

My connection with Margaret Haines goes back to my childhood. My mother used to do light housework at Margaret’s place during a period in her life when she was still working and looking after her aunt and uncle in her home. Margaret loved children—I won’t say “kids” because Margaret would not have approved—and she loved books. The teenagers who remember her will tell you that she was good to them. She was the driving force behind The Northland Bible Bookroom in our church and was absolutely dogged about getting people to buy good books—even to writing articles for The Timmins Daily Press promoting the books and the bookroom. If people didn’t come into the bookroom, or even if they did, she’d take the books she thought were appropriate for them and pursue them until she could catch them long enough to explain why they urgently needed to read that book. It was not a matter of sales, it was always a matter of people and what might be meaningful to those people. In fact,...

“ I tell you the truth, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has crossed over from death to life ” —John 5:24, NIV. My mother used to tie me to the clothesline. No, she didn’t tie me with clothesline, she simply attached my harness to the clothesline. This allowed me the freedom of the backyard and kept me from wandering out to the street. If she could have trusted me to stay in the yard I’m sure we could have done well without the harness or the clothesline; but she couldn’t. I was a wanderer. I know that because the story is told of the first (and last) time mom gave me the freedom of the yard and I ended up in the middle of the street in front of our house. The only thing—humanly speaking—that saved me from certain death was the quick action of my big brother who rushed out and hauled me back to the safety of the sidewalk. He crossed me over from “death to life” in the physical sense. I thought about that incident ...

When my parents died I was forced to reexamine a truth that I had believed in academically but had never, until that moment, tested. Did I, or did I not, believe in the afterlife? If I didn't, then the road ended there. All I would have left would be memories and a few momentoes. If I did, then I would see mom and dad again. Curling the mind around such a concept is difficult. After all, I don't know anyone personally who has come back from the dead—except Jesus. That's a huge exception, and the point. Paul writes: " Brothers we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him " —1 Thessalonians 4:13, 14. As Jesus is our example in everything else in life, He is our example in death as well. He lives, and because He lives, so do mom and dad. And so will I. When I fall "as...

Eventually I have to admit defeat. The shrunken, gray leaves, once green and soft, now crumble at my touch. There is no hope of revival now. As much as I hate to do it, the plant is dead, and needs to be thrown away. I have no resurrection power. Dead is dead and there isn't anything I can do about it. Martha thought dead was dead too—until Jesus came along to teach her better. Her brother was already several days in the grave when the Lord finally showed up. Martha wondered at the delay, rebuked the Lord for it, but dead was dead and there was nothing anyone could do. We know how the story ends. With God, dead isn't really dead at all. I had to go hunting to try to figure out the apparent contradiction in these verses in John 11:25, 26 (NIV) when Jesus says: " I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. " Okay, do we, or don't we, die? The Amplified New Testament sa...

Today would have been my mother's birthday. She's been gone now for almost eighteen years, but the memories never fade. They just soften with time. The birthday might have passed virtually unnoticed if it hadn't been for today's verse. " I tell you the truth, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has crossed over from death to life " —John 5:24. " Crossed over ." I held my mother's hand in her hospital room as she literally "crossed over." It was three days before Christmas. My father had died three months before, at the end of September, and my plan had been to have a special Christmas for mom. I didn't know that God had better plans. When my mother accepted Christ, she "crossed over" from spiritual death to spiritual life. At that moment when she physically "crossed over" she passed from pain and sadness to health and joy. Not only did she get to spend...