Making Plans, the Future, and Hope in Eternity

“It’s hard not having something to look forward to,” I recently remarked to my husband.

In this strange new time in which we live, we’ve quickly learned that any plans we make must be held loosely. As someone who loves to make plans and work hard toward those plans, this is a challenge for me. Whether it is a family vacation, a ministry event, family gathering, or prepping for the next school year, every plan I make is subject to change due to this ever-changing pandemic. While I’ve always known that I have to hold plans loosely, after all it is God who directs my steps regardless of what I plan (Proverbs 16:9), I’ve seldom lived as though it is true. I make plans and work toward them with the expectation they will likely come to fruition, or at least some version of them will.

But these days, plans are held much loosely than ever before. And as a result, I realize more and more how much hope I place in my plans.

Don’t get me wrong. Making plans or setting goals is not a wrong thing. If we didn’t make plans and didn’t work toward something, we’d not be living out our purpose as image bearers and Kingdom cultivators. If the farmer didn’t look ahead to the next season, he wouldn’t plant seeds and tend to them. He also wouldn’t have anything to eat come harvest time.

Setting goals, planning for the future, and working toward that future are all necessary. I think for me, the challenge is in realizing how much hope I put into that future. How much the idea of that future shapes my present. How my plans and goals define me and give my life meaning. And more, how much I NEED to have that thing to look forward to.

Without any big things to look forward to, I find my heart wandering and seeking to refill that gap. I find myself looking for something, anything to plan and set a goal for. My husband called me the other day from work and asked what I was doing. “Browsing online for a house in the mountains for when we are empty-nesters,” I responded.

Ouch. As I spoke those words aloud, I realized I was chasing an idol. I was looking for something to fill the void all my cancelled plans had left behind.

The Spirit is gentle yet firm with me. It’s no coincidence I am reading through Isaiah right now, a book filled with examples of Israel’s idolatry and the Lord’s compelling call for them to repent and return back to himself. As I read the prophet’s words, I am reminded of how weak and meaningless my idols are (Isaiah 57:13), how they cannot save, rescue, or redeem. I’m also reminded of Calvin’s observations that our hearts are like idol making factories: Remove one, and another takes its place.

But that longing for something in the future, that longing to have something to look forward to, that is an important longing I cannot ignore. That longing is like a shadow of the real thing. Too often, I look to the shadow as the substance. In truth, it can’t even compare. Instead of focusing on what I miss right now, what I can’t have, or can’t do, or can’t plan for, I need to look beyond the temporal future and into eternity.

There is a future ahead for me that I can live for and plan for and wait for with great expectation and hope. It is a certain future far more grand than any vacation I could imagine. It is a future filled with far more meaning and significance than anything I might fill my calendar with on a daily basis. This future that will one day blow away the joy I might miss right now from not being with friends and family or pursuing an important goal or dream. For this future is more than I could ever dream.

“For behold, I create new heavens and a new earth, and the former things shall not be remembered or come into mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in that which I create; for behold, I create Jerusalem to be a joy, and her people to be a gladness. I will rejoice in Jerusalem and be glad in my people; no more shall be heard in it the sound of weeping and the cry of distress” (Isaiah 65:17-19).

This weird in-between time as we wait for the pandemic to get under control is a reminder that we live in-between the already and not yet of our faith being made sight. We live in a world that is not our home while we wait for our eternal home with Christ. It’s a difficult tension at times, being in the world but not of it. It’s hard to remember that the joys we experience now are not the end themselves, but only a foretaste of what is to come. The harsh truth is that the more we are rooted in this world, the harder it is to ready ourselves for the one to come.

As the Lord shines a light on the idols of my heart, I am thankful for his grace and mercy. As I repent and pray for a transformed heart, I also pray for his grace to live faithfully for him, not only in the midst of this pandemic, but also as I wait for eternity to come.

Father, forgive me for seeking life and hope outside of you. Help me to find in you all I long for and desire. Fill my thirst and satisfy my soul in Christ. Ready and prepare me for my future in glory. May I live faithfully in the present, all the while looking to the future with great anticipation and joy. In Jesus’s name, amen.

Life Lived in the In-Between

I don’t know about you, but my life hasn't always turned out like I anticipated. I didn't experience the bliss of motherhood that the baby shampoo commercials promised. My dream job wasn't such a dream after all. The house that was supposed to be better than the last, turned out to be just as imperfect and broken. And no matter how many how-to books I've read, I still struggle in relationships, in my role as a wife and mother, and in organizing my life.

The truth is, life is filled with failed expectations. We pursue after dreams only to find that they weren't what we thought they'd be. Relationships let us down. Our bodies let us down. We let ourselves down. That's because life is not as it should be. We live in a broken and fallen world where life is disappointing. It often doesn't "work" or go as planned. We sin and are sinned against.

When life is disappointing, I often ask myself: how should I respond? Do I make lemonade from my challenges and view life from Pollyanna rimmed glasses, denying the harsh realities of life? Or do I fully taste the sourness of this fallen world and just accept it like it is? Do I demand life work my way? Or do I lock myself in my house, fearful of the next disappointment and failure?

Or is there perhaps another way to view life altogether?

A Holy Tension

Have you ever watched a tight rope walker? We once went on a vacation to the mountains of Northern California. While hiking in Yosemite, we came across a group of brave hikers. They hung a slackline across a deep crevasse and walked across it. One miss-step and the hiker would fall thousands of feet to the ground below. I couldn’t even watch because just the thought of what they were doing made me nauseous.

But in many ways, our lives as Christians are like walking on a slackline.

Like someone walking across a rope, we live out a holy tension. We are called to live in the world, but not of the world. Because of Christ's sacrifice on the cross for our sins, we are dead to the power of sin, yet not completely free from its presence. We are called to both be dependent upon Christ (John 15:5) and to "work out our salvation with fear and trembling" (Philippians 2:12).

In fact, as long as we live on this earth and until Christ returns, we live in what theologians call the “already-not yet." We are in an in-between time, where life is not one-dimensional. It's not as simple as making lemonade from the bitter experiences of life. Rather, life is an intertwined experience of joy and pain, tears and laughter, beauty and bitterness. We can't accept things as they are, but we can't despair as though we have no hope. We cry in sorrow over the horrors that sin has brought, yet we have joy, knowing Christ came to make all things new.

This is the reality of the Christian life. A co-mingling of seemingly disparate conditions. A holy tension of life lived in-between the already and the not yet. In 2 Corinthians 4, Paul described this holy tension: "We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed" (8-9).

When I read Paul’s description, I wonder, how can that be? Because when I feel despair, that's all I feel. It overshadows everything else. When I am afraid, fear takes the driver's seat in all my decisions. And to be honest, joy seems all too far away to be co-mingled with anything else.

So how do we live out this holy tension? How do we live in this already/not-yet time in history?

Walking the Holy Tension

It is through Christ's life, death, and resurrection that this holy tension makes sense. And it is through the power of the gospel that it is possible to live in the in-between.

The gospel tells us that God became flesh and dwelt among us. The Maker and Creator of all things entered this sinful broken world and lived life as a human. He was tempted just as we are tempted, yet never sinned. He experienced all the heartaches and pains of this life, yet obeyed and glorified God in all things. Because he was sinless, he could take on our sins as the spotless Lamb of God. Christ was punished in our place, and bore the full wrath of God for us. After three days in the grave, he rose victorious, ensuring our own resurrection at the end of days.

This is why we are comforted in the midst of affliction: because Christ was afflicted for us. Though we may be persecuted or rejected by others, we can stand confident knowing we are accepted by God because Christ was rejected in our place. We can have joy in the midst of our sorrow, because we know that the Man of Sorrow's bore all our burdens at the cross. We can face the disappointments of life with hope because we know that one day sin, sorrow, and disappointment will be no more. We can repent over our sin and feel freedom because we know Christ became sin for us. We can live without shame because we know God will never leave us or forsake us.

Yes, life is disappointing. We can't deny it or pretend otherwise. Because of the Fall, we will continue to experience disappointments, sorrows, and failed expectations. People will continue to sin against us, and we’ll continue to sin against them. We will face hardships, challenges, and broken dreams. Yet, we do not live like those who have no hope. We continue on in this seemingly paradoxical life, walking a holy tension, balancing life in the already/not-yet, through the gospel of Jesus Christ. 

Because of who Christ is and what he has done for us, we can live life in the in-between. Because we know whose we are. We know true and abiding joy is found not in circumstances or things, but in our Maker and Redeemer. We also know the end of the story; we know there’s more to come. In keeping our eyes focused on our hope in eternity, we can live in the in-between and remain "afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair."

"So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Photo by Leio McLaren (@leiomclaren) on Unsplash