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Thursday, January 25, 2018


I search through the blog before I write to see if I have already written on a verse or a topic before I write.  Did that tonight and ran across “Sorry for Your Loss” and changed what I was going to write.
As I read through that post, I began to weep.  It has been a hard 18 months.  We have experienced 4 deaths and 3 births.  The last death was of my daughter in law.  We came close to losing the newest grandson a few weeks ago.

Last year I started reading How Long, O Lord? Reflections on Suffering and Evil, 2nd ed. by D. A. Carson.  On page 130 he says:

Christians ought to be developing a kind of homesickness for heaven. Some want to warn us against being so heavenly minded that we will be no earthly good. I suppose that is possible, but I haven’t found anyone like that yet. Puffed up piety and sentimental religion can make one think much of heaven and love no one down here, but those who are genuinely heavenly minded have the highest incentive to serve well here: they are laying up treasure in heaven.

I wrote about that at some level in “Sorry for Your Loss”.  I have heard that some were looking forward to going home, dad was.  In the past I have wondered at that.  I do no longer.  At a significant level, I long to be reunited with those I know, to meet the siblings I never knew, and the grandchild that is already there, and to talk with my daughter in law and see the joy when she sees her daughter again.

I think that I am beginning to understand.  I am getting homesick.


  1. Oh, my. Thank you for sharing. I'm so sorry for all you've endured over the last 18 months. But, you put into words so beautifully what I've been feeling for so long.

    We're homesick.

    I was once infatuated with this world. It wasn't necessarily a terrible thing. I loved God's creation. My most reverent times were sitting on top of a 14,000 foot peak, and being in awe of my surroundings. But, I was in love with something that had been stained, and I didn't realize how much more beautiful it could be . . . how much more beautiful it once was.

    C.S. Lewis describes us as "Ignorant children who want to go on making mud pies in a slum because we cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea." That is until the curtain is pulled back, and we see this world for what it is. Full of pain and loss.

    We're homesick because we don't belong here. We're ambassadors. We're sojourners. We're from a better place, of which we have only questionable and vague memories. A place that's inscribed on our hearts, and one we read is better than anything we can imagine. It's a place where no more tears will be shed (oh, Lord, how wonderful that promise is), and where a great banquet will be held for those who embrace the Savior as their savior. And we'll finally see clearly, what once was only a dim reflection of how things were meant to be (1 Corinthians 13:12).

    We're homesick.

    Oh, to be in the arms of Jesus. No more tears. No more tears.

    1. Wow, Brian, thank you for taking time to share that. As you know I love the mountains. I love getting my Bible and journal out and spending time with God at a 10,000 foot mountain lake. It is a sweet time.

      However, the image of making mud pies in a slum is apt. It is difficult to imagine - in fact I suspect that if we were to just barely get a glimpse of the beauty that will be, we would be undone.

      I can't wait.

  2. Beautifully written, both of you - obviously flowing from a heart stricken by the realities of of wounded, broken sin-cursed world.

    Three years ago I was enthralled by life, by the calling of God, of what had been watching Him do in my world, of the privilege of ministry of one heart with my beloved soul-mate like we had never had before. We had a growing family and coming grandchildren.

    Oh, I looked forward to heaven, for sure. I would see Jesus without the distractions of my own sin, the veil of life ripped. My Mom and Dad were there; beloved grandparents were there, etc., but I was full of a life to be lived here.

    Then she was gone within a week. It was sudden for me; I don't think so much for her. As I reviewed her life the last year, her growing hunger for the Lord, the little hints from small notes in her Bible, other books she was reading I suspect the Lord was getting her ready. I didn't get it.

    As the shock began to wear off some over the next months, and yet continues on, I, too, have seen my focus gradually turn to heaven, to seeing the Lord...and her.

    "Homesick" is a good analogy! When we are homesick we still need to live life, want to walk with God, serve Him as the best we can, to influence others to come and join us. But heaven has all become more "real."

    Another side of this "coin" is realizing that God is doing some eternal things in my life through taking her. But that's for another time.

    1. Chuck, I can only imagine the ache. I am still in regular tears over Jenna and she is my son's wife. Their daughter is with us this night, it is a joy and a jarring reminder.

      In one of the last conversations we had with Jenna, she shared that the hardest thing for her was that her daughter would never know her. With great difficulty holding back tears, I reminded her that it would be a heartbeat in relationship to eternity before she would see her daughter again, not to be separated for eternity.

      Same for us...