Looking Forward In God
Saturday, July 11, 2009 It’s five thirty in the morning, the sun is up and I’m moving in that direction myself, a too-rare thing for me. I went to bed at a reasonable time last night and didn’t eat first, so I’m feeling pretty good even though I’ve only slept about six hours. The older I get I seem to be needing (or getting?) less sleep.
Anyway, my thoughts this morning have been on the love of God. As before, this leaves me with a mixed feeling, one of regret for not enjoying and passing on that love more in my life, yet profoundly thankful for having God’s tender mercies on this new day. What a mystery the cross presents as we find our joy in his sacrifice!
This will be my last worship service with the Newport church. We are having a fellowship lunch afterward. I’m determined to keep positive. I want to enjoy this day together even though it must have a certain saddness about it. The temptation, so familiar to my aging self, is to either make it or let be about me. But this should remain a day of ministering his grace to others and by his grace it can be.
The wonderful truth of the Christian life is that for fellow believers our leavings and losses are only for a moment. Our lives, all that matters, all that is truly worthwhile and from God, is preserved for us in the gracious giving of his Son. Not even death can intrude on the sacred assurance of everlasting life for those who believe on him. We have that life now. It has already begun. If we we will, each day can bring a taste of heaven in the love of God.
I’m deciding this morning to move deeper into his grace, forgetting those things, those sins, that he wants me to leave behind. What I do not plan to leave is the love I have for those who have been so patient with my faults and so encouraging with my work.
I’m thankful this morning to be the object of God’s love. What more can we ask in hope for the day and days to come?
Jan McKenzie
There were a lot of tears on Sabbath, mostly mine. I’m a sentimental sort. I think I take after my father’s side of the family in this respect. I remember seeing my grandfather crying at weddings and other family times. The melancholy comes from mothers’ family, most anyway. Add those two together and you get what I call a serious joy, that is, when the natural in me is tempered by the fire of God’s Spirit and the cool, soothing water of his grace.
