Something Borrowed

A few weeks ago my aunt died. At the time no deep observations struck me; only the usual immediate feelings assailed me, and still are. After a few days, though, and lots of thinking combined with emotion, several things have been heavy on my heart, but they can all be summed up with one phrase: We will all meet God.
My aunt was only 67. My grandparents are both well into their 80’s, so that seems like quite a young age to pass away at. The young age brought me to some more thoughts. I think most people tend to presume that they will be able to put off important things. “I don’t need to be disciplined about that now; I can do that when I’m a little older.” The cold hard fact is, though, that no one knows the day or the hour in which their soul will be required of them. In that moment, there is no place for procrastination. You can put off the dealings of your soul for no longer. There is no time to say “Wait, Lord, let me do this first,” or “I was going to START reading my Bible,” or “Give me time to deal with this sin.” Your account must be settled before you are kneeling before His throne. In that moment, there is no more chance for mercy. During those seconds, you must stand before the Almighty God and be held accountable for what you did or did not do during the fleeting moments you had on earth. God does not call us to a lackadaisical approach to Christianity. He does not ask us to only show up at church on Sunday, and live our lives as the world does, with only a tip of the hat to holiness. He does not call us to a cultural Christianity, where we can claim the name of “Christian” yet live with no devotion to Christ. This last Sunday, the pastor (filling in for my dad) mentioned that in our culture people tend to view God as some kind of band-aid to patch up all their problems. You feel like something’s wrong, so you approach Christ as a temporary fix. That is not the Biblical view of Christ.
At the funeral, I was mourning for my aunt. Also, I was mourning for the loss of an era—that of my grandparents. This last week has brought back a multitude of memories that were made with my papa’s parents. My grandma died ten years ago, along with another of my aunts. Since that time, family gatherings with the Edwards side of the family became few and far between. Standing in my Aunt’s house created a sense of déjà vu. I hadn’t been there in probably ten years or so, and it was a strange reminiscent feeling. I expected it to be as it used to be. Needless to say, it was not. I think, that for many people, loss is a distant concept. It has been for me at times in the past. Then, one day, it becomes something that is there, close, and seeming not very real. But for a few moments at least, you are forced to face loss, think about it, and deal with it. It fades, but will always there in the background.
I mourn because my papa lost another of his sisters, and now he and his last sister are all that remains of my grandparents family. But also I mourn because I was so rarely bold about the gospel. We don’t expect that our relatives will be suddenly taken, and when they are, it occurs to you that you have often been reticent in the sharing of the Word with them. My dad did a phenomenal job at the funeral. First he did a short biography of my aunt, and after that he did something much more important—Gave a clear, forceful presentation of the gospel. He pointed out that we are all sinners, that we have a warning in this life, and no more chances in the next. After that he explained what you do about it. Everyone in that room heard the most important things they will ever hear. The Word was spoken, and won’t return void.

There is a song by This Hope that I heard again recently, and it seemed quite fitting.
Someday soon, there’s going to be a great reunion by the sea,
I’ll see my Jesus, cross the water, spread His arms to carry me.
I’m going home, to be with Jesus; I’m going home to see my Lord.
Don’t you worry, don’t you cry. I’m going home now, to the other side.
Someday soon, He’ll read my name, and call me home where there’s no pain,
Nor more crying, and no more sorrow; land where milk and honey flow.
I’m going home to be with Jesus, I’m going home to see my Lord.
Don’t you worry, don’t you cry; I’m going home now to the other side.