Though He Slay Me...

I will hope in him. -Job13:15a

 

We speak of our lives being held in God's hands. Yet death, when it comes, seems so unreal, so hard to process. 

It is hard to understand how God could possibly be glorified in anyone's death, much less the death of one of his saints.  

But my mind keeps turning back to Psalm 116:15 "Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints." 

I first heard it at my mom's funeral and I thought at the time, "How completely fitting!" How precious indeed is the triumphant procession of the saint homeward at last from the battle. 

And how is not our king magnified and glorified in this victorious return? 

His victory.

And what a thing to be allowed to share in it and to stand before him and hear: "Well done!"

One other thing. This world is not our home. So we cling loosely and long for a better country. 

And one other verse comes to mind; this one by Robert Louis Stevenson.

"Here he lies, where he longed to be. Home is the sailor, home from the sea, And the hunter home from the hill."

 

 

 

 

Reunion

 We are headed (Lord willing) to a reunion of sorts next weekend.

Actually, a reunion of several sorts, celebrating relationships of family, long-standing friendships, and all bound together by music.

It is always a joy to re-connect, as it were, with my daughters and their extended families, as well as my sister. The separation of time and space are forgotten in the hugs, kisses, smiles and laughter that we share. Anticipation, as the song goes.

Ah, but there's the band reunion(s) as well.

Back in the when, Deb and I had our first band when we joined with our cousin Mike on bass and our longtime friend Carroll Casey on drums. We had no official name ( how 'bout Troubled Waters, Lil Sis?) but rocked the house at shows all around the area.

Our second band came together even more informally when Deb married Paul, who turned out to be a great singer and fine musician. With our lifelong friend, Danny Wayne Patton (Boone), we spent many an evening serenading friends family and neighbors as we gathered in Deb and Paul's living room.

So we look forward to a renewal of the music, as Boone and Carroll join with the rest of our family to celebrate our love for one another.

How I look forward to the soaring harmonies and the fellowship that comes not only from blood relationship but from the kinship of long-standing association as well. 

It seems to me (if I might wax philosophic as well as theologic) that such joy is a glimmer of what we will taste at that great reunion in the sky!

Think of it. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, husbands and wives, all the bonds of kinship and friendship will be renewed at the foot of the throne of our God and Savior. 

And we will sing.

Soli Deo Gloria.

If You Should Go Skating...

 ...on the thin ice of modern life....-Pink Floyd

 

So I fully realize the perilous nature of ice and snow and the hazard they pose for elderly folk venturing haplessly onto such surfaces.

 

Indeed, I know of a man who broke the largest bone in the human body while fooling about in icy conditions (here's to ya Ken, heal quickly, my friend).

 

I also realize that, in addition to bodily harm, there is also the embarrassment and inconvenience of lying prone on the frozen tundra until someone comes along to help you up.

 

Having realized all that, I decided to wait until the snow and ice cleared up before taking any such tumble myself.

 

Which I did, about an hour ago while clearing away the remains of the aforementioned (and by now, extremely tiresome) ice and snow.

No worries, mates. No severe injuries except a minor scrape on the heel of my hand. Peroxide, Unguentine and a bandaid and I'm good to go.

No wounds to the pride since there were no witnesses and I sprang quickly up. That last part is a lie, by the way. 

I must admit that my conscience is very much wounded as Bro. Billy's sermon yesterday touched upon our need (much of the time?) to repent of our repentance, as feeble as it is. While I was not "dragging behind me the silent reproach of a million tear-stained eyes," I am endeavoring to be heartily sorry for the words that left my lips as my body hit the ground.

 

Pray for me.

 

 

 

Of Dogs in Heaven and Other Such Things

Wolfie has gone on to be with the LORD. That's what I think anyway: that as surely as Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes, so Wolfgang rests in the arms of Jesus. 

 

Oh sure. I can hear some of you saying, "But dogs don't have souls." Well neither do angels. 

 

And as God cares for the least of his creatures, not allowing a little sparrow to fall to the ground without his knowledge  and consent, so it is (I believe) that the new heaven and new earth will be filled with all those things of his making (dinosaurs too, maybe though they will all be herbivorous).

 

Wolfie was a fine pup, rarely ever barking but singing in the tradition of his ancestors, a mellifluous howl (if indeed you would call it howling).

He was a friend to all who made his acquaintance, barring the occasional squirrel or cat who strayed onto his territory. 

He was a handsome dog, his blue eyes putting those of Sinatra or Newman to shame. He had a fine fur coat which only gave trouble in the summer when he would molt (or whatever it is that huskies do). And even in that, the  copious quantities of white fur scattered across the back yard brought back fond memories of Arkansas' cotton fields in autumn, after the pickers had gone through.

He was a fine friend and wonderful companion and I will miss him.

 

So now, our Heavenly Father has gathered to the himself the best (by popular acclaim) biscuit maker ever, and yesterday the best (in my opinion) doggie a boy could have.

 

Paul writes that "to live is Christ and to die is gain." 

 

That leaves me to wonder what heaven might gain by my entrance there. Perhaps a nutty companion. But scripture seems to be full of that sort of guy (I'm looking at you, Jonah!). 

 

We will see. I only know I'm bound there, as I hope and pray you all are,