Navigating Life’s Energy-Draining Paths

I’m sure most, if not all of you reading this post have experienced what I’m experiencing right now: a feeling of hanging in limbo. As though you’re unsure of your next move and have difficulty planning your days.

There are a lot of reasons I can point to for my annoying, energy and motivation-sapping funk.

  • We’re planning a trip to see our grandbaby, and I’m antsy to go on a vacation to see her.
  • We’re doing home projects to get our house ready to sell (we think), and I’m weary of projects.
  • The weekly spring Bible study I taught recently ended, and I’m missing gathering with my beloved friends something fierce. (I’m also missing the rigors of studying and preparing to teach too.)
  • Post-COVID infection brain fog isn’t helping, either. It’s not occurring as often as it did, but when it hits, I patiently ride it out and try to re-focus. I’m usually, but not always, successful.

 

But what has probably dampened my world the most is the fact that my mother is likely nearing the end of her earthly journey.

 

We thought it would happen last year, in early December when she was diagnosed with COVID and went from a fairly energetic ninety-eight-year old to a ninety-nine-year old (she turned 99 during her bout with COVID and never knew she had a birthday) who was just a shell of the woman she had been.

Since she, as many older people did, got hit especially hard with neurological symptoms, including hallucinations and catatonic spaciness, her dementia worsened. And she went from being able to walk with her walker to being bed-ridden.

Of course, because I wasn’t allowed to visit her, I didn’t witness the transition. I only got the daily updates by phone from her caregiver. I was on  the road with my husband to meet and hold our first grandchild. The worry and mental strain from wondering if I’d ever see my mother alive again weighed heavily on  me. And threatened to vacuum all of the giddy joy out of holding my brand new granddaughter.

I had to remind myself that this was no surprise to God; that He was in control; and that there was really nothing I could do, except pray and hope.

At the end of this post, I’ll include the devotional I wrote about this event for Guideposts’ Strength and Grace daily devotions bi-monthly magazine. (I highly recommend this devotional for all the caregivers you know. The truths and encouragement you glean from the devotions are wonderful. It’s always amazing to me to what God teaches us through trials and heartaches.)

 

But getting back to my mom and how she’s doing now.

She’s really winding down, but I suspect we’re still on a roller coaster ride. Last week all of us—including her hospice nurse—thought she only had days to live. But when Chris and I arrived last Sunday for a visit, she was sitting up in the recliner, looking pretty alert. The day before, she chatted up a storm for a couple of hours, even though she was in bed.

Last Friday my afternoon activity was visiting the mortuary staff to make some decisions ahead of time, in case she takes her leave while I’m visiting my son, daughter-in-law and granddaughter.

I can tell God is preparing my heart. I’m already shedding tears and coming to grips with the reality that I’ll be an “orphan,” without siblings to share long-ago memories.

That will be hard. And a little scary, I think.

I’ll have to chat with my aunt about that one. She’s also an only child and lost her parents years ago. At least she’ll be able to empathize and commiserate.

 

I’m sure all of these factors are contributing to my blah mental state and writer’s block. I’m trying to be patient with myself, recognize what’s swirling around me, lean into it, abiding in our gracious, loving Lord, and gaining perspective and strength from that abiding.

Which brings me to another reason

Post-Easter letdown.

The emotional, spiritual, and often physical investment of the forty days of Lent, Holy Week, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and then the rousing celebrating on Easter Sunday can result in a kind of let-down feeling. As though it all happened, and now it’s over, and a feeling of “what now?” niggles your spirit.

But if we look at what happened after the Resurrection, which we started to explore on April 19 post, we can see all that was going on with Jesus and His disciples and really bask in the joy of our salvation and future hope.

And that’s where we’ll be heading next week. To walk with Jesus’ followers, eavesdrop on their conversations. Try to feel their hearts as they encounter the risen Lord and learn what comes next in their lives.

And to witness the compassion and love of Jesus for His friends.

So, until the next post, which is scheduled to publish at 1:00 AM May 10 (I’m returning to Monday releases), may your heart be full of godly perspective and hope as you walk curvy, hilly and rocky paths of life!

Blessings,

Andrea

“Beloved, I pray that you may prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers.”

 
Andrea Arthur Owan, M.S., A.T., R., is a health and fitness pro, speaker, award-winning inspirational writer, memoirist, and senior-ordained chaplain (IFOC). She helps people thrive physically, emotionally and spiritually and recover from grief, loss and trauma.

When Dreams, Hopes, and Trust are Shattered

HAVE YOU EVER desired something so strongly you believed without a doubt it would happen, or that you’d most certainly get it? Have you ever been so convinced of something that you just knew it had to be true without question?

Have you ever placed so much trust in someone that you had unshakeable faith that they were who they claimed to be?

 

And how did you feel when your hopes, dreams and trust were shattered?

 

The Pain of Shattered Belief and Trust—

Having your trust and belief destroyed often causes the greatest emotional, spiritual and physical pain you could ever suffer. Living life sold out on a belief takes energy and time. When that belief is shattered, you’re shattered physically, emotionally and spiritually right along with it.

It sends you spiraling into grief and disorientation. It leaves you wondering if anything you ever did believe is true.

You don’t know where to go from here. You might be afraid to go anywhere from here, to take the next step forward. To keep on living.

 

That’s kind of how I imagine those two pilgrim disciples that had a visitor join them on the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus three days after Jesus’ crucifixion.

Tired. Deeply grieved. Disoriented.

Afraid.

Until they have their eyes open by the very One they’re grieving over.

And everything in their world changes.

 

Re-directing your thinking—

Let’s take a brief look at this Road to Emmaus story, which you can find in the Gospel of Luke, chapter 24.

The two poor, dejected guys are headed to the town of Emmaus, located about seven miles from Jerusalem. We aren’t told why they were in Jerusalem, but if they’re Jewish, I’m going to guess they had been there for Passover and perhaps were on their way home.

Based on what the text says they’re talking about—“talking about everything that had happened” about the crucifixion—it seems clear they were followers of Jesus, or were, at the very least, convinced that Jesus was The One, the Jews’ promised Messiah.

They knew about Him, believed in Him. Rejoiced that the Christ had finally come to break the Roman chains of bondage and set them free. To set up God’s kingdom on earth.

And now that hoped-for, arrived, believed-in Messiah is dead. And all those dreams and beliefs have been shattered.

But they’ve heard the story the women have started spreading around, that they’ve seen Jesus alive again. That He’s been resurrected. Clearly these men are confused.

Either way, they’re not sticking around to get the facts. (Probably their first big error—dejection, resignation and impatience.) They’re leaving Jerusalem, lamenting together on their pilgrim journey. No doubt commiserating and making their frustration and grief worse.

Then some stranger shows up on the road to sort of eavesdrop on their conversation. And then join them in the discussion. They don’t recognize Jesus because, as the text says, …”they are kept from recognizing him.”

They don’t see because—by God’s design—their eyes aren’t open to the truth. (That’s something to note as we continue.)

Jesus asks them what they’re discussing. The text then says that the two “stood still, their faces downcast.”

Look up the word “downcast,” and you’ll find a slew of depressing-sounding synonyms, like:

  • despondent
  • disheartened
  • discouraged
  • dispirited
  • hopeless
  • crestfallen
  • despairing
  • morose
  • wretched
  • sad
  • pessimistic

 

These two guys are in bad shape emotionally and spiritually. Sick at heart and in body.

And knowing the Savior, I can imagine He feels tenderhearted and compassionate toward them. But before He reveals Himself, He needs to give them a classroom and life lesson.

Just like He sometimes has to do with us. We need to have our ears open to listen well, to connect the dots, before our eyes can be opened to see.

But let’s do some eavesdropping ourselves by reading the text, right after one of the men, named Cleopas responds to Jesus’ question “What things?” with kind of a knee jerk response, giving the reader the impression that he thinks Jesus must be kind of dense if He doesn’t know or hasn’t at least heard about what’s transpired the last week.

 

“About Jesus of Nazareth,” they replied. (Notice they both reply to Jesus’ question. I can almost hear them saying it vehemently in unison, maybe waving their arms around for drama. Like, what’s wrong with you?) “He was a prophet, powerful in word and deed before God and all the people. The chief priests and our rulers handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him; but we had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel. And what is more, it is the third day since all this took place. In addition, some of our women amazed us. They went to the tomb early this morning but didn’t find his body. Thy came and told us that they had seen a vision of angels, who said he was alive. Then some of our companions went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said, but him they did not see.”

 

Jesus listens. And then he chastises them for their ignorance; for their misinterpretation of why Messiah came and what He was to accomplish; their disregard for the prophets who foretold his coming and suffering. They’ve misread, misinterpreted, misjudged, dismissed or willfully altered the truth to fit their own, hoped-for narrative. Their conjured up Messiah was not the Messiah the prophets foretold. At least not on His first coming. The conquering Jesus will show up. But that comes later. After all of the world is told about Him.

Even with the stern lesson, Jesus still doesn’t allow them to recognize Him—until they convince Him to stay the night at the house they arrive at, and sit down to eat. It’s when Jesus breaks bread that their eyes are open, and they realize who He is.

But as soon as they do recognize Him, he disappears from their sight.

At that point they’re ecstatic.

 

Have you ever been so excited and pumped up at a revelation about something or someone that you can’t contain your joy? Well, that’s how excited they are—that the Scriptures suddenly make perfect sense, and with their own eyes they have seen the risen Lord! Their beliefs, hopes and dreams have been restored!

I can only imagine what seeing a dead body come to life and walking around must do to your brain and emotions.

 

Cleopas and his buddy didn’t eat. They hopped up from the table and sprinted the 7 miles back to Jerusalem, to meet with the Eleven remaining disciples and tell them all they’d experienced. And to confirm what the women had seen. Since Simon Peter has already been face-to-face with Jesus, I’m sure he’s told the others about it. But this is just another eyewitness validation that it’s true.

The fact that Jesus was dead, buried and resurrected.

And now they understand: Jesus is their hoped-for Christ.

He just didn’t meet their expectations the first time around.

That happens a lot with false and misguided expectations.

 

When false expectations are the reason for our shattered hope—

And isn’t that what often happens to us?

Maybe we misinterpret intentions and blame the fallout of those misinterpretations on another person.

Maybe we let our agenda get in the way of truth, or obstruct it entirely.

Maybe we’re the ones who willfully ignore the teachings and signs and set ourselves up for heartbreak and failure.

We can really do a lot of damage to our lives when we head down our own Emmaus paths, giving up. Downcast head and eyes. Doubting the facts. Losing faith in something or someone we should have given the benefit of the doubt to.

We need to be on the lookout for those times. Snuff out the doubts before they fester or take root.

This story is wonderful, because Jesus could have let Cleopas and his buddy wallow in turmoil, let them, somehow, figure it out on their own. Stumble along until they came to believe the “rumors.”

But He didn’t. Instead, in His great mercy and compassion, Jesus met them on the road and opened their eyes and hearts.

And He’ll do that for us too.

 

But even though He’ll come to us in our frailty and weakness, there is something to be learned and nurtured from this story.

As Christianity.com points out as to the question of why Jesus waited to reveal Himself to them,

“Many scholars believe this parallels the discernment process for many of us. Sometimes, when we cannot understand something, we gather information. Then it must settle within our hearts. Only when we have fully ‘digested’ what we’ve learned, allowed it to sink in, does the truth come out.”

And why Jesus waited until the meal to open their eyes may have something to do with who He is, and the setting. He often didn’t preach until after he fed people; and often a relaxed setting, like a meal, can warm and open people’s hearts to hearing and understanding.

And Jesus does call them “foolish” and “slow” to understand Scripture. It sounds harsh, but it’s true and needed to be said. know I’ve been foolish and slow on many occasions.

Jesus wants them to have discernment. And He wants them to have faith.

Having faith in the right Person and having the right hope is like a precious jewel we need to hang onto, even when life’s circumstances and events tempt us to throw it away.

It’s a gift we must never take for granted.

And we need to exercise it in every area of life. We need to earnestly seek Him.

 

Invitation—

Is there an Emmaus road you’ve been walking down—forlorn, questioning and dejected? Maybe it’s time that you ask Jesus to open your eyes to truth and run back where you came from. So you don’t miss the reunion and celebration!

Has Jesus been knocking at your heart’s door? There is no better time than the present to open up that door and invite Him in, to sit and stay with you—and open your eyes!


Until next week, pursue truth and keep your eyes up and on the final prize!

Blessings,

Andrea

“Beloved, I pray that you may prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers.”

 
Andrea Arthur Owan, M.S., A.T., R., is a health and fitness pro, speaker, award-winning inspirational writer, memoirist, and senior-ordained chaplain (IFOC). She helps people thrive physically, emotionally and spiritually and recover from grief, loss and trauma.

What is your Future Hope?

What is your greatest hope? Is it world peace? An end to this pandemic and returning to “normal?” A medical test telling you your cancer is gone?

At any point in our lives we may be focusing on one particular “hope,” driven by something pressing in on us. There was a time in my life when my marriage had suffered some pretty hefty relational earthquake cracks, and all I could focus on was hoping (and praying) the cracks would be repaired and the relationship restored. (By God’s grace, it was.)

At that point in my life, the rope knot that kept me hanging on was “love hopes all things.” Love is the knot that keeps you hanging on. It’s the knot that allows us to look into the future.

The future that Love gave us.

And that’s what this season of Easter is about.

Love. Perfect love. Earthshaking, paradigm shifting, life-altering Love.

The kind of love that prompts the God of the Universe to look upon mankind in pain and sympathy and send His only Son down to the inhabited orb to provide a way for mankind to be—if they so choose—restored to Him and look forward to a time when the Earth will be renewed and eternal life established and granted. When every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.

 

A future, Heavenly hope.

 

That’s what the Resurrection gave and still gives us.

 

Nothing else on Earth comes close to that kind of promise.

 

Are you looking forward to that time? Do you have that kind of hope in your heart?

I pray you can answer “Yes!” to those two questions. If you can, I know you’re rejoicing at the promise that will someday be fulfilled.

If you’re unsure, or waffling, or wish you knew more, I invite and encourage you to watch these videos by Alistair Begg. They’re short, informative and uplifting.

 

And they could change your life by planting you on the road to eternal hope.

 

Christ has died.

Christ is Risen.

Christ will come again!!

To watch Pastor Begg’s short videos, paste this link into your browser and click on “The Story,” and the other two videos.

And then sing your heart out!

 

 

 

HAPPY EASTER!


Until next week, may you rest secure in the future hope God has already given you—the Eternal Light that shines in the darkness.

Blessings,

Andrea

“Beloved, I pray that you may prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers.”

 
Andrea Arthur Owan, M.S., A.T., R., is a health and fitness pro, speaker, award-winning inspirational writer, memoirist, and senior-ordained chaplain (IFOC). She helps people thrive physically, emotionally and spiritually and recover from grief, loss and trauma.

What Does the Cross of Christ Mean to You?

(This blog post is based on recent messages given by Parkside Church pastor Alistair Begg.)

 

How much does the Cross of Christ mean to you and your faith?

Not the trauma Christ experienced on it, but the cross, and what was accomplished there.

Your answer might divulge whether or not you comprehend what happened and the end results.

Your answer might divulge whether or not you are a true Christ follower.

 

The danger of focusing on the cross’s physical trauma—

When reading about the physical punishment Jesus endured before dragging his cross to Golgotha and being nailed to it to die, there’s no doubt the punishment was brutal and gory. Anyone with a speck of imagination could conjure up the slick sweat, the slashed flesh and exposed muscle, the streaming blood.

For centuries artists have tried to depict it, often with devoted and pained followers kneeling around the crucified Christ in the artwork. The art often projects deep spiritual agony of the devotees, the horrified countenances of the gathering crowd.

They seem stirred by the ugly scene. And often that’s what stirs us too. Often, that’s the only thing that stirs us.

We dive head first into the passion of Christ’s suffering; we feel the profound emotion. We can really get wrapped up in it.

But when we do this, we’re at risk of getting too involved in the passion itself. We identify Christ as the perfect sufferer and extend Him sympathy for that. And we miss what He says to the wailing women and gawkers. (There are always those types that relish watching an execution firsthand.)

Jesus looks at them from the Cross and says, “Don’t weep for me.”

 

Jesus wants something greater from us than our sympathy.

He wants us to acknowledge exactly what was going on and why it had to happen.

He wants something far greater from us. The Cross demands it.

 

What does the Calvary Cross demand from us?

Jesus doesn’t want our sympathy. That falls short of what the cross calls us to do.

Jesus wants our love and devotion.

That’s what the Cross, and what was accomplished on it, demands.

 

The Gospel writers and the epistle writers don’t focus on Jesus’ suffering. They don’t elaborate on the agony. They avoid any vivid descriptions of the suffering Jesus.

What they all emphasize is the sacrifice required for the world’s sins—yours, mine, everyone’s sins since time’s beginning—in order for us to be reconciled to God, have a personal, loving relationship with Him, and have a living hope to enjoy Him for all eternity.

The culminating goal of Christ’s crucifixion is atonement for our sins.

As Pastor Alistair Begg says, that no matter how long we live or how many good deeds we do “We can’t make amends for [our sins]. We can’t establish our own righteousness or our own atonement.”

We can never pay the expected price.

But Jesus could, and He did. It’s what He was born to do.

Make atonement.

Atonement accomplished on the Cross. Proof the debt for our sin was paid. The glorious Resurrection three days later the proof that He was who He claimed to be.

 

We don’t fall in love with Jesus and follow Him because we feel sympathy for Him. We fall in love with and follow Him because of who He is and what He accomplished on the Cross for us.

It wasn’t His suffering that saves us. It’s His sacrifice.

As Pastor Begg emphasizes, the solution to the world’s dilemmas is solved on that rough, ugly Cross.

 

At this point in your life, are you still asking Jesus to prove Himself to you?

If you are you’ve missed the sacrificial message of the Cross. The sin-debt-paid-in-full message.

The “It is finished,” message.

You’ve missed salvation.

Jesus has already done all He needed to do to prove Himself. He won’t need to do anything else, even if you ask.

 

Don’t the good parts of Christianity—the love, the justice, the mercy—save?

The good parts of Christianity—the mercy, the justice, the generosity, the love—are great outward manifestations of a God and Jesus-loving faith. Our faith calls us to do and demonstrate them.

But those good works count for zero toward salvation. No one can do enough good works to get to salvation on his own.

It takes that Cross of Christ to make it to, and over, the finish line.

 

The danger of removing the Cross as the centerpiece of Scripture—

There’s a church in San Francisco, which I won’t name. It’s a famous church, in a mainline denomination now hotly arguing internally about how they’re going to split over differing issues. A divorce for irreconcilable differences.

In 1967 the lead pastor in this church decided to remove the Cross from the sanctuary. He said he did it “to send a message of inclusion and love and to open his sermons and services to all.”

No doubt he thought he was being loving, kind, thoughtful and inclusive. Open-armed and open-doored. But I think he missed the real message of that Cross he thought others found unappealing, creepy and offensive.

And I’m wondering if in the process He missed Christ.

Or robbed the people who need it most from the salvation message the Cross declares.

 

To a true believer and follower of Christ, the Cross gives the deepest message of love the world has ever known. Removing it from the centerpiece, and along with it all that was accomplished that earth-shaking day on Golgotha, might prompt condescending sympathy from the masses but a convenient dismissal or avoidance of the truth.

Removing the Cross guts our faith.

We need the Cross because it is the stabilizing structure that supports our faith. The trellis supporting the vine branches. Without the trellis the vines collapse.

Without the Cross, our faith crumbles and disintegrates.

 

Yes, I know that throughout history the Cross has been used as a symbolic weapon to promote and do unspeakable things, causing many to be repelled by it. And for those horrors, Christians need to apologize and, if possible, make amends.

But those events do not change the facts of salvation truth.

The salvation truth is open to all and everyone who comes to the cross to confess and lay their burdens down there.

Let His breath be in your lungs!

Come to the Cross, and then worship Him!

 

 

 

 

Invitation—
  • Are you moved more by Christ’s suffering than the end result of the sacrifice? If so, turn your attention to what the Cross really means for the world. For you. Ask the Lord to reveal that truth to you. Let Him call you to faith and convince you.
  • Have you been trying to earn your way into Heaven with good deeds? Do you believe that’s what gets you there? Realize that you can never do enough good deeds, never measure up to God’s standards and Christ’s righteousness. Lay your good deed list down and kneel at the Cross. Find salvation and righteousness there.
  • I encourage—implore—you to stop holding Jesus up as only a good man or a wise prophet, and go to Him in repentance and faith.

 

Days before His sacrificial death, Jesus wept over Jerusalem because they rejected Him.

Do not let Him weep over you.


NEXT WEEK: I’ll provide you with a couple of resources to learn more about this marvelous story of redemption and hope!

Until then, sing hallelujahs to the King as we celebrate Palm Sunday and walk toward Calvary and the Cross.

Blessings,

Andrea

“Beloved, I pray that you may prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers.”


Andrea Arthur Owan, M.S., A.T., R., is a health and fitness pro, speaker, award-winning inspirational writer, memoirist, and senior-ordained chaplain (IFOC). She helps people thrive physically, emotionally and spiritually and recover from grief, loss and trauma.

Perhaps Today! Actively (and Expectantly) Awaiting Jesus’ Return

I’m a mug junkie. I have mugs overflowing around our house. Mugs in the cupboards. Mugs on a special shelf in our solarium-breakfast room. I even had my husband add another shelf to one of our kitchen cabinets to accommodate all of them. The cabinet right above the coffee maker. The cabinet stuffed with mugs, tea, and coffee-making supplies. It’s gotten to be a family joke.

I don’t remember when I started “collecting” them. I had a few mugs scattered around, special ones I’d picked up at seminars, (with conference logos and company promo material), national park mugs, and mugs from Hawaii with our Anglicized-Hawaiian names on them. But when I gave up collecting vacation-spot T-shirts, I gravitated toward mugs, which are much more difficult to haul home (unbroken) in a suitcase!

Now I have “retired” mugs on display on a special shelf, the ones I don’t want to break or wear down any longer through usage; and the noteworthy cracked ones I can’t bear to part with. And I have several secreted away that no one else is allowed to use but me. The mugs given as extra-special gifts, or the ones that remind me of sweet times Chris and I have spent together at some charming Bed and Breakfast.

But there’s one mug I’ve never used. It’s been prominently displayed on my writing desk for over 25 years. The blue marble-look mug I received after donating to a well-known ministry. The words on it remind me of something I should keep forefront in my mind. Every day. Words especially appropriate for this month when we celebrate the Resurrection of our Lord.

Perhaps Today!

 

Can you guess what those words reference?

They’re a reminder that our Lord will return one day. They’re a hope that perhaps today will be that glorious day—when He’ll return, subdue the earth, vanquish his foes, and lift up and resurrect the faithful.

 

Jesus’ Second Coming—

Of course, not everyone believes He will return. And not everyone harbors the hope within his or her heart that He will. Some are terrified it might be true.

 

I thought about my “Perhaps Today!” mug when reading a chapter from Max Lucado’s book And the Angels Were Silent: The Final Week of Jesus. Reading that book has been my Lenten practice nearly every year the last 23 years.

The particular chapter that brought the mug to mind is titled “Be Ready.” The verse associated with the chapter is Matthew 24:42:

 

“So always be ready, because you don’t know the day your Lord will come.”

 

It’s a winsome (and stark) reminder that being ready for His return is a way of life. A critical one.

Jesus’ Last Sermon on Earth—

In his book, Lucado examines what Jesus says and does (and doesn’t say and do) the last week of His earthly life. It’s a lesson—when time and distractions are stripped away—on what’s important. This particular chapter looks at the topic of Jesus’ last sermon.

What would you think a last-sermon topic would be? Like Lucado, we’d probably preach on love, or family, or church attendance, ministry support. Spreading the Gospel. Doing good and being good. Marching for some social justice issue.

But Jesus focuses on something He evidently believes is far more important.

He focuses on being prepared.

Or, as Lucado bluntly puts it:

 

“He preached on being ready for heaven and staying out of hell.”

 

Hell. Now there’s a word many recoil at. “Does anyone believe in hell anymore?” you might ask.

Jesus is a firm believer in it. If you haven’t tallied up the numbers, He talked about hell and money more than anything else while He was on earth.

But it’s become a passé or quaint subject. An idea reserved for the undereducated or simple-minded. As Lucado points out:

 

“We don’t like to talk about hell, do we? In intellectual circles the topic of hell is regarded as primitive and foolish. It’s not logical. ‘A loving God wouldn’t send people to hell.’ So we dismiss it.

But to dismiss it is to dismiss a core teaching of Jesus. The doctrine of hell is not one developed by Paul, Peter, or John. It is taught by Jesus himself.

And to dismiss it is to dismiss much more. It is to dismiss the presence of a loving God and the privilege of a free choice.”

 

And that’s the point: we all have a free choice. To choose heaven or hell. And God will honor what we choose.

 

Where will you choose to spend eternity?

God talks a lot about what we’ll gain by going to heaven, how we can get there, and what consequences we face if we choose poorly.

And that leaves me with one more point Lucado made. An ironclad argument against this idea that there is a heaven but no opposite place—hell—in existence.

 

“To reject the dualistic outcome of history and say there is no hell leaves gaping holes in any banner of a just God. To say there is not hell is to say God condones the rebellious, unrepentant heart. To say there is no hell is to portray God will eyes blind to the hunger and evil in the world. To say there is no hell is to say that God doesn’t care that people are beaten and massacred, that he doesn’t care that women are raped or families wrecked. To say there is no hell is to say God has no justice, no sense of right and wrong, and eventually to say God has no love. For true love hates evil.

Hell is the ultimate expression of a just Creator.”

 

I’ll add one more thought: If there is no hell, why would Jesus have to endure humiliation, abandonment, torture, and a cruel Roman cross to provide a way for us to enter and enjoy heaven? Was that all just one big wasted event?

Surprisingly, staying out of hell and making the choice for Him and an eternal life in heaven, is the same topic he preached on during His first sermon.

He constantly warned people to be prepared. He focused on the subject the last week of His life, three short days before His death.

 

And I believe it’s a subject we need to return to today. Not by standing on street corners with signs, pointing angry fingers at people and shouting at them through angry, twisted lips and with blazing eyes that they’re headed for doom.

I think it’s something we need to continue talking about in a loving, firm way. With hearts of concern for the rejecters or uncommitted. As I’ve heard pastors say, “If you saw someone in a burning building, wouldn’t you try to do everything you could to save them? Or would you just walk by and say, ‘Oh well?'”

 

I know many think we believers-in-hell are feeble-minded, duped, or downright nuts. But that’s okay with me. I’d rather it weren’t true; I’d like to believe that God just says, “Okay. I’m going to let everyone into heaven, even if they’ve rejected me. Or just annihilate them so they’ll never know what they’re missing. That’s a belief to which many faithful are now subscribing. It just sounds nicer.

But I can’t have it my way. I don’t make the rules. God does. And I don’t think He would have spent so much time warning against it if it were just some big cosmic joke. A “just kidding” discussion.

 

What to do while we’re waiting—

Does looking forward to His second coming mean I do nothing but twiddle my thumbs until it happens? Many people that laugh at us, thinking that’s what we’re do.

But when I think “Perhaps Today!” my looking forward to it in anticipation should drive me closer to preparation, being found busy and active, as Jesus instructs us to be. Doing His work down here, like a faithful ambassador, until He returns.

So, along with the “Perhaps Today” thought, I try to start every day with a Jewish adage I learned some years ago: “Rise up like a lion in the service of the Lord.”

You never know when or at what hour you might be called. You might as well be busy during the waiting and anticipation process.

And then it will be too late.

 

May God grant you a happy, expectant “Perhaps Today!” heart as you prepare for the commemoration of His final week, crucifixion and glorious Resurrection, and live every day of your life until He returns!

 

Until next time,

Shalom!

Andrea

“Certainly there was an Eden….We all long for it, and we are constantly glimpsing it.” —J.R.R. Tolkien