Closer & Easier

I was afforded the opportunity to sing another solo in last night’s worship service. And true to form I gave the audience “their money’s worth” by sharing a few unexpected words, (since I hadn’t thought about it) relating to suffering.

 

“The last ten years in my and my wife’s lives have been nothing short of horrendous. I won’t bore you with specifics, and some of you aren’t familiar with the myriad of things which we have experienced. And though I’m not a man of tremendous faith, I can tell you that strangely enough… it only gets easier. I know that sounds strange, and it occurs to me at this moment that perhaps it has only gotten easier because

 

… we are getting closer.”

 

Only a Christian could possibly have a grasp of what I meant by that final phrase. An infidel, a secular person or a person of a different religion might muse, “What in the world is he talking about?” (or) “What’s getting closer? That much more trouble and pain in the world?”

 

But my fellow relatives and/or Christians, we are blessed (or cursed) depending on one’s perspective of things with the words of Hebrews 9:27:

 

“As it is appointed unto man once to die, and after that the judgment.”

 

And that scripture suddenly calls to mind a rather well-known story. A hundred years ago, Teddy Roosevelt had been off on a safari to Africa on which, (unfortunately) he had killed an extremely large number of native animals. The trip was over now, and old Teddy sailed into New York Harbor in the first class section of the Queen Mary. Thousands of cheering fans crowded the docks to greet him.

 

A missionary man and wife happened to be returning home from Africa on the same ship; having spent a full fifty years on the “Dark Continent.” However, with their limited funds they had booked third class passage. “Rev. Johnson” was amazed at the vast number of people milling around on the docks; cheering the president.

 

“Emily, President Roosevelt has just spent two weeks in Africa killing a bunch of wild animals, and when he gets home he’s greeted by thousands of people; applauding his short adventure, and straining to catch a glimpse of him. But we’ve spent fifty years in the same place toiling to reach and keep a few lost souls for Christ. And when we get home there’s not one person waiting to greet us here.”

 

The good missionary’s wife paused a moment, and smiled a sad smile, but with the faintest of smiles on her face.

 

“But you must remember, Horace… we’re not home yet.”

 

No, we’re not home yet.

 

And with the passage of time I’m drawing ever closer to my eternal home. As I write this words my end is not yet written, (except in heaven, and I have not been given any particular entre into that providential writing.)

 

I will either go by way of the rapture, or “the way of the cross.” While I am eagerly awaiting the return of my Lord Jesus Christ from heaven, at my current age of 65, I am practical enough to realize that I haven’t been afforded any special dispensation, and there is a very real possibility that I must soon surrender this earthly body to death and the ground.

 

Perhaps it’s only gotten easier

… since we are getting closer.

 

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "(Mc)Donald's Daily Diary" Vol. 10