About this time last year, we were all asked to stay home for “fifteen days to flatten the curve.” Fifteen days morphed into months. Months morphed into a year and still going. The end was in sight and then it was lost.
Flattening the curve was defined. It had a beginning and an end. Fifteen days. No more. No less. Most of us can endure even the most challenging of situations for fifteen days – when we can see the end.
The ensuing lockdown was initially defined in terms of time, but over time has become uncertain and seemingly never-ending. It has shifted shapes and extended as time has passed. The end date is a moving target.
We went from ticking fifteen days off the calendar to counting up to the day when we’ll all be free again.
Navigating the world of grief can be a whole lot like that.
When someone you love dies, it triggers a domino of unpleasant events certain on the calendar. Once March 16, 2017 was etched on our calendars, we knew we had –
- 6 days until her funeral
- 54 days until what should have been graduation day
- 89 days until the day she should have celebrated turning 18
- 285 days until the first Christmas without her
- 365 days until the first anniversary of her accident
Everyone has their own calendar filled with days like these. For the most part, we can muddle our way through six days or even 365 days.
The greater struggle comes when we are waiting for days that can’t be counted. How do I tick off the days until celebrating college graduation, finding her first real job after college, the day she introduces us to her soul mate, her wedding day, or the day she starts a family of her own? How do we countdown days that have been erased from the calendar?
We can’t. We can only wait. If you are like me, waiting sucks. Waiting is the hardest part.
Waiting is even harder when I’m waiting for something good. When something good and exciting is on the horizon, I am like a kid waiting for Christmas morning.
What in the world could be “something good” when your world has already fallen apart?
When your heart is crushed, what could be worth waiting for?
There is coming a day when all tears will be wiped away. Heaven and earth will be renewed according to God’s will. We will be united with Christ and all believers.
I don’t know about you, but I am truly looking forward to that day. I’m tired. I’m tired of tragedy. I’m tired of death. I’m tired of tears.
I’m ready for peace. I’m ready for life. I’m ready for joy. Not just the little glimpses we get in this life, but true peace, true life, true joy.
Even waiting for something that exciting is challenging. We live in the “instant.” We are a people who count wait times in nanoseconds and feed on a constant diet of 30-second sound bites.
How are we supposed to wait for a day that we can’t plug into a cutesy countdown widget?
The promise of heaven is real. Yet, the waiting is still hard. Why?
Because we’ve not wrapped our minds around the full promise of heaven.
The pain and struggle of this world warps our minds making it almost impossible to conceive of the glory of heaven. Shortly after Brooke’s accident, a friend helped me sneak a peek into the glory of heaven. At dinner one night, she asked me to imagine how I would feel if Brooke walked up to our table at that very moment. I could feel it instantly. The feeling is a joy that I can barely describe. As time has passed, this feeling has magnified. As I recount this story to you now, the same feeling washes over me with even greater intensity.
Here’s the kicker and here’s where I want you to fill in whatever scenario would bring you the greatest joy you can possibly imagine. That joy that washes over me when I imagine a reunion with Brooke and that joy that floods your imagination – is the LEAST of the joy that we will feel in heaven.
Did you catch that?
The GREATEST joy that we can imagine on earth will be just the beginning in heaven.
That is what hope looks like. God’s promise of that kind of joy is worth waiting for.
Dear Father,
Even in the midst of life’s struggles, You provide glimpses of the glories of heaven to come. A magnificent sunset. A chorus of birds following a long winter. The soothing crash of waves on the shore. The rhythmic melody of a horse at a canter. The sweet scent of spring flowers. The spicy simmer of Sunday dinner. And so, so much more. Thank you for the little things in life that point us toward the things that really matter.
Even still -the waiting is hardest part. The waiting can strain our faith. The waiting can leave us feeling overwhelmed. Yet, Your promises are stronger than our feelings. We pray that the Holy Spirit and your promise of the glory of heaven comfort us even (especially) when we feel there is nothing worth waiting for.
All of this we pray in the name of your son, Jesus. Amen!
SDG
