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I’m the kind of person who doesn’t worry.
Instead, I PANIC.
This week, I woke up and decided it was high time for some panicking.
Just kidding. But really, I did panic.
It was like for so long I (and we) have been in the dramatic upheaval of marriage and missionary training and moving and starting out support raising that I didn’t have time to panic, only to keep my head above water.
But slowly, things have settled. We’ve unpacked our things. We bought a comforter. Our rings became less shiny and our stuff less new and our marriage less novel, and suddenly I wasn’t just surviving.
And when I finally had enough time to stand and look around, I panicked. Not just panicked, but PANICKED. Like, freaking out, crying, full-blown angry-thrashy-sweaty-nightmare-filled sleep panicked.
Like a child who suddenly realizes they’ve swum into the deep end on accident, I’ve lost my footing. Spluttering, choking, gasping for breath.
How are we ever going to do this? Missionaries? What were we thinking? Really. There are people far smarter, far better, far more spiritual and qualified for this than us. Trust me, we went through training with them.
But here we are. With the title “Missionary” on our marriage license and our tax forms. Doing just that.
But for some reason, God chose us for this. I definitely don’t always appreciate it (last night as we were getting ready for bed, I told Clay that I really wish God could have chosen to make us something more stable, like an office-worker or full-time vacation-taker. He told me the first one isn’t all that stable and the second one doesn’t exist. Dang.) But I know we’re right where we’re supposed to be.
And honestly, it’s a scary place to be. I wish I could say that I wasn’t scared, that I was trusting God completely, that I was at peace. But I’m not. But I’m getting there.
Every day I wake up, I’m dragging these reluctant feet a few more steps, urging this stubborn heart to soften just a little bit more. I’m getting there. I am. I’m just slower than you might expect.
“I believe I will look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living.” (Psalm 27:13)
I have clung to this verse like it is life itself. To me, it says so much. It says not only will I see the goodness of the Lord, but that I will see it in the land of the living. Did you catch that? I won’t have to wait until heaven. I will see it here. Now.
Oh, that gives me so much hope!
To know that it’s not the interminable waiting. To know that I’m not stuck on “this side of eternity”, a phrase to me that sounds like being a toddler stuck behind the baby gate, watching all the fun happening in the other room.
To know that I can, right now, in this place, in this situation, experience his goodness, no matter how scared or small or insufficient I feel.
I love that. I need that.
I BELIEVE I will look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of living. In the land of missionary support raising. In the land of newly-married-ness. In the land of Columbus, Ohio (aka far, far away from the ministry and the students I love.) In this land, right here, today.
I believe I will.
I believe.
I apologize if it seems all I write about any more is my wedding. It’s consumed my thoughts and thus my writing. That said, I’m going to talk about it some more.
A week from today, I’ll be getting married. A year ago at this time, I was dealing with the emotions of realizing that it was going to be at least a year before I got married. At first, it made me upset. I was finally engaged, and now I had to wait some more?!
It made me angry, and a little bit sorry for myself. I’d long ago learned that complete honesty in prayer with the Lord was better than half-hearted but religious platitudes. At the time, I couldn’t pray that He would make me happy to wait. I just couldn’t.
So instead, I prayed that the longing I felt to be married to Clay would teach my heart what it really means to long for Jesus’ return.
If that seems like a non-sequitar, let me explain;
Throughout the Bible, God’s relationship with his people is depicted as being like that of a husband and a wife.
In the very beginning, in Genesis, it is said that God created humans, both men and women, “in the image of God,” meaning that they, at their very essence, reflect key things about who God is and what He is like. Man is made first, and then women is created for man, to be his mate.
“The man said ‘This [woman] is now bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called ‘woman,’for she was taken out of man.’ That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh.” – Genesis 2:32,24:
Later, God continually refers to himself as a “husband” to his chosen people, Israel.
““In that day,” declares the LORD, “you will call me ‘my husband’; you will no longer call me ‘my master.'” (Hosea 2:16)
“For your Maker is your husband– the LORD Almighty is his name” -(Isaiah 54:5)
“”Return, faithless people,” declares the LORD, “for I am your husband.” (Jer 3:14 )
In the New Testament, the references continue, now with Jesus being referred to as the “bridegroom” to his faithful people. Paul even goes so far as to say that the major reason that God created marriage like He did was to provide us with a living picture of himself;
” ‘For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.’ This is a profound mystery – but I am saying it refers to Christ and the church.” – Ephesians 5:31,32
Finally, the references conclude in the final book of the Bible, Revelations. In this book, the future return of Jesus is described as “wedding” – where the Groom, Jesus, will finally, once and for all, be fully united to the people who have chosen to love Him – His Bride, the Church. (Revelation 19, 21)
This picture has long been one of my favorites. It brings tears to my eyes to imagine the day when Jesus returns;
A triumphant Groom, the long, weary battle won, comes to claim His radiant bride and take her away to live with Him forever.
But for now, we live in the waiting period. As His church, we are engaged to Him – but the final marriage hasn’t come yet. And it is oh-so-hard.
I know that feeling.
I’ve been engaged for over 14 months now. I understand what it means to wait. Fortunately, God has been kind to me, and I actually really enjoyed the majority of my engagement. In fact, I often wished it would slow down – I was comfortable being engaged. Liked it, actually. I didn’t see the need to hurry my wedding! Sometimes, in the middle of all the “engagement” and wedding planning activities, I would forget I was even getting married! But still, I often prayed that it would teach me what it meant to really long for Jesus’ return. And for most of my engagement, I felt like that prayer went unanswered. In the past two weeks, though, something changed.
Two weeks ago, I moved home to begin working on support and finish up wedding details, while Clay stayed behind in Athens to work. Of course, I miss him terribly. And somewhere, in the middle of that, my heart started to shift.
This past week, I’ve acutely felt the longing just to be with Clay. I want my wedding to hurry up and get here – not because I want to wear a pretty dress, or put my hair up, or even to celebrate with loved ones – but because my wedding will mean he’ll be here, with me. I’ll be able to not just hear him – but see him. Touch him. Be with him. And I won’t have to say goodbye.
That’s what it means to long for Jesus’ return.
So often, we get trapped up in the insignificant and the momentary, we lose sight of the eternal. We get comfortable on this earth – enjoy it even. We occupy ourselves with things, good things even – family, church, ministry, jobs – and forget what we’re really waiting for.
How often have you heard someone say, (or perhaps even said it yourself) “I’m not ready for Jesus to come back, I haven’t (insert unfulfilled desire here) yet,” ?
What silliness! What bride should say, “I’m not ready for my wedding, I haven’t cleaned the grout in my bathroom yet,”?!?
None of the things we think we’re waiting for could be better than spending eternity in Heaven with the God who loves us more than any groom has ever loved any bride.
I don’t long for Jesus’ return the way I should. I don’t ache for Heaven with the intensity and the fervor that I should. And this side of Heaven, I probably never will.
But in this gift of my year-long engagement, I have learned a little bit how I ought to. A little more of my heart everyday is learning to cry, “Maranatha! – Come, Lord Jesus, Come!”
Yes – Come, Lord Jesus, Come.
Tomorrow is my official last day as an intern with Cru at Ohio University.
I’ve tried to sit down and write this post a hundred times. I’ve been keeping a page in my journal entitled “Things I’ve Learned as an Intern” to try and help me catch the ideas when they come. I’ve spent an entire afternoon contemplating the year and processing through it with the Lord. And the conclusion I’ve come to is this:
I can’t sum this year up.
I can’t wrap it up in a blog post. I can’t make a “10 Things I’ve Learned” list. I can’t even write about one thing I’ve learned. I just can’t.
This year has been too full, too hard, too wonderful, too everything.
And as much as I want to communicate how much this year has meant to me, how much the Lord has taught me, I can’t.
Because this year I’ve truly walked with the Lord. Not perfectly, and not constantly, but closely. Day by day, hour by hour, moment by moment. This year has forced me to do something I’ve always longed to – rely on the Lord as if my very life depends on it. Because it does. And I do.
This year, for a million reasons, I’ve pulled up close to Him. And He has become as near to me as my own heart, as close and as constant as my breath.
I’m not sure why, and I don’t know how, but something this year changed me.
I have found Him, and I have drawn close. And the joy is thick, and sweet, and constant – no matter my circumstances.
I am so profoundly thankful.
“Bless the Lord, O my soul! And all that is within me, bless His holy name! Bless the Lord, o My soul!” – Psalm 103 ESV
Be still, my soul. The Lord is on your side.
Be. Still. Be STILL. Don’t run, don’t hide, don’t curl up in the fetal position. Be STILL. Relax. Rest.
The Lord is on your side. YOUR side. The LORD. The God of the universe, who controls every atom and every galaxy, each dost mote and every star. He’s on your side. He’s not going to leave you. He won’t suddenly decide to revoke friendship or drift out of your grasp. He is on YOUR side. He is for you, never against. He is more zealous for your joy than you could ever be. Trust Him.
Be still, my soul. Don’t fret over the painful things that have happened this week, or last week, or last year. Yes, cry. Grieve. But don’t worry. Don’t dwell. Don’t worry about the unknown future stretching out before you. Leave to your God to order and provide. Let the God who unrolls the past, present, and future of the world like a scroll arrange your present and future, just as He has the past. Has he ever let you go without? Has he ever not made things work? Has he ever left you alone? No, never. And He won’t start now. In every change, He faithful will remain.
He is faithful. Trust Him. Be. Still.
I’m getting married in 2 months. Actually, 69 days to be exact. On May 24, 2014, I will make the most solemn vows of my entire life, and officially become Mrs. Clay Selway. I will commit to not only share, but entirely give my money, my possessions, my future, my body, my soul to one man. Forever. No way out.
And he’s not “The One.”
Now, don’t misunderstand me. I love Clay with everything I have. He makes me laugh. He makes the bad days good and the good days better. He challenges me to be a better person, and comforts me when I’ve failed that challenge. He’s the kindest, gentlest, sweetest person I know. He’s my best friend, my hero, and the only man I’d ever want to be my husband.
But he’s still not my soul mate, and definitely not “The One.”
Not that I didn’t spend the first 18 years of my life longing to meet my “One.” Growing up, like any good midwestern girl, I was fed a steady diet of the idealized American romance. One boy, one girl – two star-crossed lovers who fight across space and time to fulfill their destiny of being together. From Disney movies to romance novels, I ate it all up. I had my own copy of “Romeo and Juliet,” that I read until the pages started to fall out. I literally watched “The Princess Bride” so many times I could have recited it in my sleep. I loved it. And I wanted it.
But no matter how I tried, I just couldn’t seem to find it. Even the best boyfriend I had failed my weighty list of expectations. No man in the world seemed like they would ever fulfill the ideal I’d built up. I sat around and lamented to my girlfriends ruefully, “I think God made me a man, but somewhere along the way he got hit by bus.” The humor was a thin veneer for some very thick disappointment.
After wading through the smoking rubble from a broken relationship with someone I thought was “The One”, I met my now fiance, Clay, through some mutual friends. After a year of friendship, we began a careful dating relationship. 2 years after that, he asked me to be his wife. And in just 2 months, we will become one. But he isn’t “The One.”
You see, Clay will never be “The One.” In fact, I don’t even think there is a “One,” not on this earth at least. The very concept of a “One” implies that there is one, singular person out there that will fulfill every single desire of my heart, meet every single need, and heal every single hurt.
What an incredible burden! Actually, what a crushing burden. No man, not even Clay (and I admit I think he’s the best man out there) could do that. Think of who many needs, wants, desires, and hurts you have – could just one person ever take care of all that?
As a Christian, I believe that human beings have eternal souls. Souls that are filled with an immense, infinite amount of desires and wants. We need to be loved perfectly, to be known perfectly, to be cherished perfectly. But, as the they say “no one’s perfect.” And thus, no one, not even your spouse, no matter how well matched, will ever be able to fulfill you fully.
But our culture has told us this lie, and we’ve ate it up. And so we date, and break up, marry and divorce, all the while searching, searching, searching for someone, anyone to fill this aching hole inside of us. But they can’t. And they don’t. And they never will.
I think C.S. Lewis got it right when he famously said, ““If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”
You see, I think we were made for another world. A world with no longing, no sighing, no searching, no pain. No disappointment, no unmet expectations, no broken relationships, no emptiness. A world with a perfect relationship with a perfect God; an Infinite being to fill an infinite need. And though we haven’t lived in that perfect world since Genesis 2, I believe that through Jesus, we can still have that relationship with God. And through Him, even while I struggle through this broken world, I have an infinite source to fill my never-ending need.
This is something Clay and I came to realize before we dated each other, and something we realize a little more every day. Because we both have a relationship with Jesus, we have all of our infinite needs, wants, and desires fulfilled. We don’t have to turn to each other for them.
This means that while I still receive things like love, affection, friendship, and affirmation from Clay, I don’t have to. I don’t demand them, but rather can receive them as a gift. On the bad days (or weeks, or months, or years), I don’t have to receive anything from Clay. Fulfilled in my relationship with God, I can choose to serve Clay when he’s not serving me, give when he’s only taking, and love when he’s nothing but unloveable. And on the good days (which, by God’s grace, will outnumber the bad) I will receive his gentle service, gifts, and love with a sense of undeserving joy and gratitude.
He’s not “The One.” The unchangable, unshakeable, never-failing God is “The One.” And Clay is a wonderful, beautiful, completely undeserved gift given to me by The One.
On May 24, 2014, I will become one with someone I love more than my own body. I will happily join with the one God has given me, and together, as one, we will serve The One.
I’m getting married, and he’s not “The One.” And I’m grateful for that.
Almost 4 years ago, I wrote this post about being a Christian with ADHD. It made much more of a splash than I could have imagined, and I still receive comments and emails about it almost weekly. I’m still stunned that something I wrote in an attitude of humorous exasperation over my own personal condition has been so helpful to so many people!
That said, I’ve learned a lot in 4 years. I still stand behind everything that I wrote in that initial post, but I want to make some clarifications that I hope everyone, including those who don’t have ADHD/ADD, will find helpful!
1. My condition is not a mistake, but it’s not “how God intended” me either.
I hear people say this a lot, and I know their intent is good, but it irks me. Yes, this is technically “how God made me.” But I am of the firm belief that this is not how he intended me, at least not in the sense of how he intended humanity to be. It’s like looking at a person paralyzed from birth and saying, “That’s ok, it’s how God made you!” Technically, you’re right, but it’s not very nice to say, and it actually communicates a pretty serious falsehood about who God is and what He wants for us.
You see, without going into a full-blown explanation of Genesis, when God created the world, everything was perfect. When Adam and Eve first sinned, everything was thrown into chaos. From then on, the world we live in has been fundamentally broken. My messed-up brain chemistry is just another example of that. Yes, God is sovereign and knew it was going to happen. But He didn’t intentionally create me this way, and He won’t keep me this way. One day, I’ll have a new body, and I’m pretty sure it won’t include a brain with ADHD. Which will be awesome.
2. My condition makes my spiritual life different, but it’s not an excuse for a lack of spiritual discipline or maturity.
So I have a hard time focusing, my ability to sit still is limited, and I struggle with consistency. These things mean that my spiritual life will always look differently from someone with a normal brain, but I truly believe that they don’t give me license not to try. I won’t go into detail about the things that I’ve found helpful for maintaining spiritual disciplines (stay tuned for “Part 3” for that), but I will say that there are things that I’ve found helpful. I am fully capable of studying the Bible daily, praying consistently, and engage in group settings to grow.
3. My condition is NOT an excuse for sin.
I think this point is pretty self-explanatory, but I will elaborate. As tempted as I am to blame my sin on my ADHD, I know that’s not right. While it’s true that my propensity towards being impatient is caused by my ADHD, it doesn’t give me a free pass to selfishly force others to hurry up, not follow proper procedures, or otherwise make rash decisions. Yes, I hate waiting. I hate it more than I hate almost anything else in life. But the scriptures tell us, again and again, “be patient!” It’s one of the fruits of the Spirit. I don’t get to just excuse my lack of it as a “brain chemistry thing” and waltz on by. It just means that I’m going to have to pray more, repent more, try more.
I don’t get a free pass to sin, I get another opportunity to repent and rely on God to help me do what I know I cannot do on my own.
4. I am fully capable of being a successful, mature, responsible adult who walks by faith and fulfills God’s purpose for my life.
My life will look different. I will probably never stop losing things. I will almost certainly need daily medication life-long. But I can, and I WILL be the person God made me to be. With the proper medication, a good support system, healthy Scriptural teaching, and a daily dependence on God – I can be all of the the above. I can have a life full of the good things that come from trusting God and working hard. I can learn to live life in the ways that God has prescribed. I can learn to let the truth change me for good. I can, as Jesus commanded us, “Go and make disciples of all nations.” Not even the most severe ADHD could stop that. And I’m grateful for that.
5. The prescription for how to live the Christian life with ADD/ADHD is GRACE
For YEARS, I wondered how to live the Christian life as a woman with ADHD. And then one day, when I wasn’t even looking for the answer, it hit me – GRACE. Grace, grace, grace, and more grace. The answer of how to live the Christian life as a person with ADHD/ADD is the same answer of how ANYONE is to live the Christian life. We’re not special, and we’re not different. We’re sinners, and we’re desperately in need of grace.
I might sin differently because of my ADHD, but it doesn’t nullify God’s grace. I am to repent and cast myself into His arms, same as anyone else. And I know that He will accept me, because Jesus died for that. He died for my failure to be patient, for my volatile mood swings, for my lack of self control, for my wandering affections. He died for my sin. And He died that one day, I might see Him as He is – beautiful, loving, ever-patient, slow to anger and full of steadfast love and mercy. For now, I see that only in part. But one day, I will see that in full. And in that day, my brain will be healed, along with my body. I will be perfectly patient, perfectly at peace, perfectly controlled, and all my affections will be set in their rightful place – with Him, in a never-ending day of praise to the King of the Universe.
Looking forward to that day, right alongside you. Until then, Brothers and Sisters, take heart in this –
“…I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” – 2 Corinthians 12
“…for we walk by faith, not by sight.” – 2 Cor 5:7
I’ve always liked this verse – Perhaps because I’ve never been able to live it.
As much as I don’t want to admit that it’s true, I know that it is: I live my most of my life in fear.
Even as a child, I hated the grip that fear had on me. When I was in junior high, I decided that I was going to conquer one of my biggest fears – heights. I signed up for a week long summer camp that revolved around heights. Literally. A week of high-ropes courses, rock climbing, zip-lining, and other stomach-churning activities. I thought if I could just show “knuckle-down” and “man-up,” I’d be able to walk away cured of my fear. Fool-proof plan, right?
It didn’t work.
Of course, I did make it through the week. I did all of the activities we were supposed to, and only wet my pants once or twice. But I walked away, still afraid of heights. To this day, being more than 6 feet up makes my head spin and my stomach churn. I couldn’t conquer my fear of heights, and I don’t think I ever will.
Even though I know that didn’t work, I keep thinking that if I just try harder, I won’t be so scared anymore. I keep swallowing my fear, and forging ahead, thinking that doing one more “brave” thing will make it go away. But every morning, I wake up, roll over, and find that familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach again.
I’m so sick of living in fear. It clouds my days, robs my joy, and strips my faith. It flys in the face of all that I say I believe.
I don’t think I’d ever realized how ruled by fear I am until this season of my life, when so much seems to be shifting under my feet. I’ve moved out on my own, started a new job, have begun applying for my next job, and am planning my marriage. The questions are unending:
Where will we live? How will I ever save enough? How will we pay for X (our honeymoon, an apartment, a mattress, my medical bills, etc.)? What will we do? Should we go into full-time missions work? Where will the money come from if we do? Will we make it? Will our marriage last? Am I doing the right thing?
They pile up around me, burying me, until I’m drowning in my own paralyzing fear. I choke, cough, splutter. Whisper tiny cries for help. It takes everything in me not to give in, pack it all up, and head for the hills. And in this metaphor, the hills are a stable, stationary job with a reliable paycheck and a life devoid of relationships that might be painful or fail. It seems easier than looking at my trembling face in the mirror every morning, and wishing there was a braver soul looking back at me.
I’ve been doing everything in my power, especially these past few months, to ignore the fear I feel inside of me. I didn’t know what else to do. This morning, though, my pastor said something that really struck me. While preaching on Luke 1, in which Gabriel tells Mary she will conceive Jesus, he said this; “If you want to truly follow Christ, you have to realize you won’t have your questions answered before you say ‘Yes, Lord.'”
I won’t have my questions answered before I say “Yes, Lord.” I will say yes, and most likely be swimming in a sea of questions. But just because I have questions, doesn’t mean I’m not walking in faith. In fact, saying “Yes” in the face of those questions is the very definition of faith. I won’t be walking in perfect faith all the time, but I don’t have to live in fear either.
Like Mary, I will say “Yes, Lord,” when he calls. I will wake up every morning, and look at my trembling face, feel my heart shaking with fear, and remind myself, “You walk by faith, not by sight.” I will fear my deep, paralyzing fear, and cry out to the God who emboldens my heart and strengthens my soul. And He will not disappoint.
My name is Emily. I live my life tempted to fear. But I have the power of the living God inside of me, and I will choose to do what I’m called to, even when I’m scared. I don’t know what this means for me yet, but I’m sure I’ll learn.
“….for we walk by faith, not by sight.”
Oh, how he loves us. I don’t know of anything more beautiful, and more worthy, than this.
Four years ago today, I was an overly-dramatic, wild, semi-undisciplined freshman girl. I moved to OU, filled with dreams and restless for adventure. I loved books, but was never much of one for classrooms. I kept a list of all the places I wanted to travel to. Filled with wanderlust, I chose majors that would graduate in no more than four years, and could launch me immediately into world-traveling.
But I couldn’t have imagined what God had in store for me.
I wandered through that year, alternatively joyful and upset. I made some of the best friends I’ve ever known. My heart began to heal. I had a thousand more stupid crushes. I began to find that my greatest joy was found in knowing God, and making Him known. The thirst for adventure never decreased, only grew. At times, I felt repressed – thwarted, even. Why would God give me such a thirst for adventure, such a hunger to see the world, and then stick me in a “middle-of-nowhere” college town?
And then, at just the right time, He introduced one of the best people I’ve ever known. Our friendship progressed and grew. With faltering, wobbly, baby-steps, we walked. And somehow, suddenly it seemed, since I’d hardly noticed it happening, we were no longer friends – we were companions. Without even looking for it, I found myself in the middle of the greatest earthly adventure of my life. I began to see the world, right in the middle of that small college town, as I learned what it meant to “traverse the hills of the human soul.” Like any good adventure, it’s had it’s good days and it’s bad. There have been peaks with great views, and valleys with no light. There’s been sweet, warm days, and really, really, really (really) long nights. There’s even been a lot of days where I’ve just wanted to turn in, pack up, and head home. It’s been a hard adventure, but once I’m exceedingly grateful for.
Clay Selway, I’m so grateful for you. You are my best friend. No one cares for me the way that you do. No one accepts my faults so readily, but also pushes me to be better so persistently. You make me laugh when all I want to do is cry, and even when I cry (which we both know is a lot,) you readily stand by to comfort me. Life is more fun when you’re around to share it. You think my jokes are funny, even when they aren’t. You tell me my hair looks good, even when it doesn’t. You keep track of my stuff when I can’t. You tell me the good things you see in me, even when I see nothing but bad. Most importantly, you continually point me to Jesus. You are God’s most visible picture of grace to me. The way you love me is such a beautiful picture of the way Christ loves his people; Sacrificially, without conditions, without price. Every day, I see something new about the Gospel as the thread of grace that has run through our entire relationship continues to bind us together. I am so excited for what lies ahead of us, whatever that might be.
4 years later, I’m still in Athens – but somehow, that seems more than ok.
You have been, and will continue to be, my greatest adventure.
We belong together, like the ocean needs the shore. You hem me in at my wild edges; I bid you to stretch out, and be so much more.
I hope for heaven. All my longings and desires are pointing there, pulling there, drawing me ever forward.
Because of heaven, I can live with the fact that my earthly body is permanently broken and often in pain. I have a sure hope that one day, I’ll be in a body that is perfect and whole.
Because of heaven, I can live free from the fear of losing the ones I love. I don’t fear for my fiance’s safety, my friend’s cancer. My fiance and my friend will live eternally in heaven with me. Even if I have to live the next 60+ years without them, those years of missing them will pale in comparison to an eternity with them.
Because of heaven, I can put aside lesser things that I love in favor of greater things that God loves. I can forgo a large salary to take a job that serves God’s kingdom. I can give up stability and safety to do what God asks me to do, when He asks me to do it. I can forgo living near my family, seeing my dear friends, living in the places that I love, in order that I might share the Gospel with those who most need it. I can even give up my own life, because I know that nothing I say “No” to now will compare to the infinite “Yes’s” that I will have in eternity.
Because of heaven, I walk in peace, sleep in comfort, and live in joy. Nothing – from a bad day to incurable cancer – can touch me. A present comfort with a promised future. I am, of all people, the most truly free.
That I Might Have Life 