I've spent time thinking, a hazard at best, about all that I have and all that's been given me. I heard a song on a country radio station somewhere in Louisiana, Mississippi or Alabama in the past week that pointed out that everything that has ever happened in our past has led us to this moment.
And when I've arrived at that moment, it seems to me that God is there ahead of me. Mary and I, like all Methodist clergy and spouses, are homeless now. We've sold our home of our years and set out on the great path towards, uh, the unknown. Don't know where. Don't know when. Don't even know how. That unsettles me some, but I see that as the ultimate trust I can muster of this great being called God. Wherever we land next year, here or there, we will be in His hands. Because we've always been there.
The Bible is a long, long book about people coming to that decision through pain and suffering or not coming to that decision at all.
The book speaks of those who praise Him for what they have and those who long for more. It's the way of life, actually. No peace can be found for those who want more than they have. No, peace is found in wanting what you have and accepting that God has given it to you.
In the 8th chapter of Romans, Paul is writing some of the most wonderful of words, then out of the blue comes this: "They kill us in cold blood because they hate you. We're sitting ducks; they pick us off one by one."
Uh, excuse me?
But then he finishes ... "None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I'm absolutely convinced that nothing -- nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable -- absolutely nothing can get between us and God's love, because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraces us."
It comes down to this: can we exist with nothing if we have God's love as our everything? Many have. Some haven't.
That's part of our decision. Abundant living is included, by the way, in eternal living.
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