The promise

Trees have a life cycle. Each year the trees come to life and each fall they die. And yet, even in the coldest time of death, new life comes pushing through. We who believe in Christ Jesus our Lord and Savior know with assurance that this promise is for us.

I have seen this promise at its fullest.

Over the last year and a half I’ve stood by many gravesides. I’ve read Psalm 23 a number of times. I’ve said “Ashes to ashes and dust to dust,” committing brothers and sisters in Christ to the ground. Each time I knew that what was laid into the ground wasn’t someone’s mother or grandmother or son, but just a shell. I spoke many times about the hope, about the promise of the resurrection. It is what I firmly believe in.

Jesus was raised to life. He was resurrected. The same body yet new. The same person but in such a wonderful perfect state. We human beings were created in holiness and righteousness, meant to reside with our God and walk with him in the cool of the day. We were made to be with our God. We were made to make choices, including the wrong ones. God gave us free will and our free will choose poorly. There are acts and consequences. What one person chooses to do will affect so many others down the road who may not even have known what had happened.

This is what happened when sin entered into the world. But even at that point, God promised to bring us back to himself no matter what we did. He made it happen through Jesus Christ. He is our savior.

My grandmother entered through the gates of glory to be with her savior. She taught me a lot. I worked for her at her store for a number of years. She taught me the work ethic I’ve carried with me ever since then. She always told me “If you have time to lean, you have time to clean.” Her puns, jokes, and sarcasm will always be with me and will most likely be passed down to my children.

I also know with assurance that I will see my grandmother again. She is no longer here. She is with our savior. And one day I will be there too. But more than that. We have the promise that we will one day be standing next to each other before the thrown of God singing “Holy! Holy! Holy! Worthy is the Lamb that was slain.”

I’m still sad. I’m still grieving. It’s hard to accept the fact that I can’t call her up. I can’t just chat with her. She’s gone from here. But she’s now there. And I know that one day I will be too.

 

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