Measures

 My daughters are not what one might call consistent when it comes to measuring time. If, perchance, their mother or I allow them to watch television, then time seems to speed up, and fifteen minutes seems like fifteen seconds. When the alarm sounds, and they have to turn it off, their singular objection is that the clock is wrong, fifteen minutes haven’t passed, and it’s all a giant conspiracy to keep them from finishing their cartoon. At least they’re consistent. You know what’s coming, and oftentimes I’ll even blurt out the words I know they’ll speak before they get a chance to do it. It’s always followed by a drawn-out “daddy,” but you’ve got to take your fun where you can get it.

On the other hand, if we are planning a road trip, and I tell them the drive is two hours, and we go a minute over, then the sky falls, the earth shatters beneath their feet, all hope is lost, and every second seems like an eternity. That’s why I’ve learned to approximate our trips and leave a little cushion just in case.

The passage of time has a lot to do with how we perceive it. A minute can seem like an eternity, and an eternity can seem like a minute. When you’re sitting in the emergency room waiting for your blood panel to come back because you passed out while trying to grill some chicken, it seems like it’s taking forever. When you’re on your dream vacation soaking up the sun and feeling the sand between your toes, a week seems like a minute.

How you perceive the passage of time while you’re waiting for something has everything to do with whether or not you’ve purposed in your heart that whatever you’re waiting for is worth the wait. Some people will camp out for days just to get some concert tickets because they’ve determined that giving up that chunk of time in exchange for seeing their favorite band play was worth it. Having concluded that they wait patiently in an orderly line, pay their money, and get their tickets.

The point at which this analogy breaks down is that there are no ticket scalpers waiting on the corner trying to sell you tickets into heaven. No one can wait in line for you. You can’t purchase your ticket from someone else or sneak in pretending to be someone else. If you thought security at the Gaither concert was bad, just wait until you see Heaven’s security detail.

Not only are they checking ID, but they’re also checking blood, and if you don’t have the blood of the Lamb, it doesn’t matter who you were, whom you knew, what you owned, or what you did; you’re not getting in.

The promises of God are worth waiting for. Heaven is worth waiting for. What’s more, the Creator of all that is, the eternal God, the Alpha, and the Omega, has spoken the things you are patiently waiting for, and He is not one to fail in keeping His word.

Joshua 23:14, “Behold, this day I am going the way of all the earth. And you know in all your hearts and in all your souls that not one thing has failed of all the good things which the Lord your God spoke concerning you. All have come to pass for you; not one word of them has failed.”

These were Joshua’s final words after lifelong service to God. He knew he was about to go the way of all the earth; in fact, he knew it would be on that day as he spoke his final message to the people of Israel.

What would be the point of lying on your deathbed? What would be the point of saying something everyone knew not to be true? Joshua knew he’d come to the end of the road, and looking back on a well-lived life concluded that God keeps His word, all the time, every time, without fail.

He didn’t start out by saying, except for that one time when God promised He would deliver us, and He didn’t. He knew that they knew in their hearts and souls that not one thing had failed of all the good things the Lord had spoken.

Sometimes the Lord relents from the harm He said He would do to a people, but never from the good things. I’ve thought about that for a bit and can only be in awe of His goodness toward a stiff-necked and obstinate creation.

If God has promised you a good thing, be patient until you receive it. It is in your patience that you possess your soul, not in worry and consternation. If God said it, He will do it, but He will do it in His time, in His way, and for His glory.

The world cannot take away your joy, it cannot take away your peace, and it cannot take away your desire to see Christ return in all His glory. The world cannot take anything from you if you are buried with Him; you must choose to surrender it.

You forfeit your peace when you worry incessantly about tomorrow. You forfeit your joy when you compare what you have with what your neighbor has, and it’s always the more prosperous neighbor, not the poorer one. You forfeit your desire to see His return when you become distracted by the present things of this earth, and you forfeit your heavenly reward when your heart is consumed with earthly ones.

I heard a story once about a man slated for execution in the old country who was asked what he would like his last meal to be. He looked through the bars on his window and saw it was snowing.

“What month is it,” he asked.

“December,” the warden answered.

“Then I would like a ripe, red watermelon for my last meal,” the prisoner said.

“But we won’t have any of those for months,” the warden answered.

“That’s okay, I can wait; I’m in no hurry,” the prisoner retorted.

What Jesus is bringing is worth the wait. Whether tomorrow, next month, or next year, I can wait. What other choice is there?

With love in Christ,

Michael Boldea, Jr.