All of Life’s a Stage

We walked slowly up and down the empty hallways which were painted off-white, of course.  Some of the doorways were decorated with wrapping paper and tinsel or wreaths.  One man’s door held a large picture of him in younger years.  We sang carols, the old songs that would be familiar.  The tunes that would bring back memories of another time, another life.  Days of trimming trees with little children gathered round, “helping.”  Years of baking cookies and school Christmas programs and the magic of Santa.  Moments spent watching sweet childish faces beam with excitement on Christmas morning.

Tonight, in the nursing home, maybe a few precious memories were sparked in tired minds.  Maybe the sound of those old familiar songs brought tears.  Maybe they reminded someone of a joy that is no longer felt.

One woman, sitting on a seat on her walker, came to the hall, rolling herself along with little shuffling footsteps.  She wanted to hear the music.  She wanted to see our faces.  She wanted to tell us how old she is–ninety-nine.  She wanted to tell us that she used to do this, caroling with the children, coming to nursing homes to try and bring some Christmas cheer to less fortunate people, people who were near the end of life, who were physically weak, who were mentally tired, who were emotionally discouraged.  She used to be one of the carolers.  Now she is a resident, beaming at the sounds of the singing.  Trying her best to stand up as a showing of her appreciation for this act.

Such a small thing, singing in a hallway.

And when I go to the nursing home, I leave, always, with overwhelming thankfulness that I can leave.  I am grateful that I’m young, that I’m strong and I’m living some of the greatest years of my life.  I think it’s okay to feel that way.  To have a true appreciation of things that I might otherwise take for granted, like the ability to walk.  Or a clear mind.  Or children underfoot.

It helps me remember that even though this Christmas has been busier than I wanted and I have been way too focused on silly things, like trying to get Adelade to wear ruffled pants, the beauty of the Christmas story is that it reaches all of us.  It reaches the toddler who won’t stay out of the Christmas tree.  It reaches the frazzled mother and the stressed out dad who has one eye on his wallet all season.  It reaches the empty nester who is learning to rethink her Christmas traditions and it reaches the tired old man who sits in a bed all day, looking out the same window.  It reaches the ninety-nine year old woman who comes shuffling when she hears the carols being sung.  It even reaches to the darkest corners in the darkest moments in the deepest sorrows.  It reaches the nursing home at Christmas.

The Christmas story fits well with joy and sorrow.  With elation and devastation.  Because the story, the true story, is Hope personified.  It is the reason we sing, even when we are old and memory fades and bodies quit.  The angels sang a song on a quiet night in Bethlehem that rings true in our hearts on a quiet night in the nursing home.  Christ is near.  God is with us.

So, we can have peace, no matter what stage of life we’re in.

I pray those old carols brought some sweet memories to minds and a sweet peace to hearts tonight.   While I walked those halls, I could almost hear the angels through the clear voices of the children.  Glory to God in the Highest.  Here, even here.  He is near.

Joy to the World.

 

This Child

Imagine her for a moment.  A young teenager, thirteen years old, maybe.  The gangly long arms and legs of a growing girl.  The grown up teeth that still seem a bit too large for her childish face.  Freckles across her nose perhaps.  The sparkling eyes of a curious child.  She has probably giggled with friends today.

And soon she will be visited by a Heavenly being.  She will see an angel face to face, and he will tell her something so incredible that no expert in the law would believe it.  She will learn in a few simple statements news that will change the course of her life forever.  She will believe it.  Her child-faith will take it in.  She will be filled with wonder, humility, curiosity, and joy.  She will accept this news like an old friend, even though she has no clue how it will be accomplished and probably doesn’t really understand what it all means.

God chose her, this young girl.  He could’ve brought Jesus into the world in a million other ways, but He chose her.  A precious teenager.  A child.

Why?

Maybe because she still listens.  Maybe because she is moldable.  Maybe because she is quick to believe and slow to speak in ignorance.  Maybe because she is gentle, humble, and unsure of herself.

Maybe God used a child because we adults are so busy making much of ourselves that we can’t hear Him.  Maybe her faith was based on total reliance on Him instead of the reliance on her own mind or her own experience.  Maybe God chose Mary to show us how much more we can be.

By being less.

Less wowed by ourselves.  Less impressed by our reasoning abilities.  Less discouraging.  Less jaded.  Less skeptical.  Less adult-like.

We talk a lot about seeing Christmas through the eyes of a child.  The magic.  The stockings, the chimney, the reindeer, and the jolly old elf.  But, take this moment, friends, to see Christmas through the eyes of another child:  Mary.

The incredible wonder of it all.  Total belief.  Complete faith.  Excitement.  Heavenly messengers.  The birth of a beautiful, truly perfect baby boy to call her own, and to call the world’s Savior.  Mary, with the faith of a child, shows us how to respond to Christmas.

Awe.  Joy.  And reliance on the truth of God’s promises.

Stand in Mary’s room today.  Imagine her first glimpse of a glittering angel.  And respond with the child-like faith that she demonstrates as you hear her say, “I am the Lord’s servant.  May it happen to me as you have said.”

Heaven or Bust

I feel at home on the planet Earth. I love the gorgeous views, the sweet friends, the fun stuff to do, and the incredible family life. In fact, I love life in this world so very much that it’s difficult for me to look forward to the next one.

Am I allowed to say that?

I think this may be a widespread problem among Christians today, especially Christians in a place like the United States. I know we talk a lot about how life is hard (and I’m not denying that, especially as someone who has never buried a parent or a child). But, day-to-day life, for most Christians in 2013 in this great country, is easy. We don’t have to work and toil and struggle the way, say, the pioneers did. When your whole life is back-breaking manual labor, loss after loss after loss, pain and heartbreak and just an all-out grind, day in and day out, I bet you have a different perspective on eternity.

I bet it helps you remember that this world is not your home. I bet it helps you long for the moment when you can leave the pain behind and head for Jesus.

The fact is that we have the easiest lives of any society in the history of the world. Technology. Education. Fast everything. And here we live out our Christian lives. And we love them. Even though we’re only half of what we will be in eternity. Even though we’re still struggling with our sinful desires and we’re still hampered by our own selfishness and physical ailments and our pride and our worries. Even though we live in a world that hates God.

We still love it here, and we find ourselves worrying about what life in Heaven will be like.

There are several things wrong with this type of thinking:

1. It causes us to doubt the goodness of God’s plan.

When we find it hard to imagine that Heaven is better than our current life, we are failing to believe that God has a wonderful design for our eternal existence. Jesus said, “I go to prepare a place for you.” (John 14:3) Do we really dare to think that any place Jesus has prepared isn’t going to be up to our happiness standards? When we fret about whether we will be married in Heaven or whether we will get to eat Grandma’s coconut pie or whether we will be able to see art or have a dog or whatever else we worry about, we are essentially telling God that we just may not care for the way He has arranged our eternity. We’re letting our very human faith issues distract us from the fact that God is good and that He does the unimaginable. We’re forgetting that He knows us better than we know ourselves, and that whatever He has prepared for you and for me will suit us to a tee.

2. It causes us to forget what Heaven is really about.

When we think about Heaven, we tend to let movie scenes flood our mind. Fluffy clouds, angels with shiny gold wings, the big gate with St. Peter standing by, or big escalators in the sky, or harps or whatever else comes to mind. We do this because we can’t imagine what it’s actually going to be like. So, we buy into Hollywood’s version of Heaven. And, truthfully, Hollywood’s Heaven seems, well, boring. We tend to think of Heaven in terms of our physical experiences because that’s what we know and what we identify with. But, we fail to consider the most wonderful thing about Heaven, which is being in the presence of God. Living out eternity with Jesus. And we just can’t imagine what that will be like. So, it’s hard to look forward to. But, when Jesus wipes away every tear from our eyes, when there is no more death or sorrow or crying or pain, when all of these things are gone forever, as the Bible promises, we will experience a new reality. (Revelation 21:4) It’s a reality that’s difficult to imagine, yet even the happiest person who currently lives on earth can see this description and recognize that Heaven is a place far superior.

3. It causes us to think of Heaven in selfish terms.

Worrying whether Heaven is going to meet our exacting (and unimaginative) standards is almost like asking God for a rewards menu. Ok, God, I’ll take the silver mansion with the emerald and ruby furniture, and don’t forget to throw in a side of fried chicken and that gorgeous singing voice I’ve always wanted. It seems a little silly when we think of it in those terms. Ok, a lot silly. We get so wrapped up in what we want and what we think we deserve and how we think things ought to be that before we know it we’re thinking of Heaven in terms of some lavish vacation that we have earned instead of an incredible gift of God that is beyond our comprehension. It’s pure selfishness that makes us think that we just can’t enjoy Heaven without this or that. It’s simply our flesh talking. And, the great news is that once we get there, that side of us will be dead forever. We’ll see things as God sees them, and none our earthly fears will matter a bit anyway.

I’m not suggesting in any way that there’s anything wrong with being happy here on Earth. In fact, I highly recommend it. I’m just reminding myself that this world is an extremely small part of God’s plan for Christians. We shouldn’t put so much stock in our time here that we let it outshine the glories of Heaven in our minds. And, when we do face suffering of all kinds, let them point us to the hope we have in an eternal future that is free from pain, worry, or crying.

If I’m the only one who struggles in this area, just nod and smile and pray for me and say, “Bless her heart.” Thank the Lord that whatever I can imagine that Heaven is doesn’t even begin scratch the surface of what Jesus has prepared. One thing I know: He is good. And I’m pretty sure He’s more imaginative than Hollywood. So, fluffy clouds and harps are probably not going to be part of the Heavenly landscape.

But if they are, well, I bet I’ll love them.