Foxes Have Holes

One year for my birthday, I asked a dear friend to paint me something with a fox in it. I didn’t have anything particular in mind of what it should look like; I knew I would love whatever she created. At my birthday, she presented me with a carefully wrapped package. I unopened it to find, not one, but three framed paintings. One painting was of a fox peaking out of a hole. The second was of a bird standing guard at its nest of eggs. The third was of a crown of thorns with a trio of crosses in the background. Included in the gift was a letter that explained how Jesus’ encounter with a scribe in Matthew 8 inspired my friend’s work.

“And a scribe came up and said to him, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head” (Matt. 8:19-20).

Not only were the paintings beautiful, but they reflected the fact that my friend and I were reading and studying the Scriptures together, seeking to understand what it means to follow Christ. We often discussed those things we needed to die to in order to obey him. That was over a dozen years ago. Today, the paintings hang on a wall outside my office where I walk by them every day. The irony is not lost on me that they hang in my home, in a place I own, a place of comfort and safety, while my Savior never had a home of his own. These paintings remind me that following Christ is not easy.

John Calvin commented that the scribe in this passage lived an easy life. He was honored by the community. He had every need met. Calvin wrote: “He wishes indeed to follow Christ, but dreams of an easy and agreeable life, and of dwellings filled with every convenience; whereas the disciples of Christ must walk among thorns, and march to the cross amidst uninterrupted afflictions.” What a contrast! Jesus tells the scribe that even the animals have what he doesn’t have—is he really willing to follow in his footsteps? Does he know the cost? Is he willing to pay it?

Far too often in our western Christian culture, the call to follow Christ has been watered down so much that people don’t hear, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” Instead, they hear: “Follow Jesus and he’ll give you the house of your dreams. He’ll make your life smooth and carefree.” In doing so, they believe a false gospel. A gospel that doesn’t save. Yet, Jesus makes it clear that there is a price to following him:

• “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me” (Matt. 16:24).

• “Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account” (Matt. 5:11).

• “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it?…So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:26-28, 33).

Ultimately, it is the price of homelessness, of being aliens and strangers in a world that is not our own (1 Pet. 2:11, Heb. 11:13). But for those who do follow him, the reward far outweighs the cost: being restored in right relationship with our Maker and eternity spent in his presence.

While I’m thankful for the home in which I live (which I affectionately call “The Fox Den”), I never forget that my Savior had no place to lay his head. That’s because he wasn’t rooted to this world. His sojourn here models for me my own. I am to store up treasure in heaven, not on earth. To follow him, I must hold all things loosely, find him alone to be my place of safety, and to live like a pilgrim in this world until he returns to take me home.

Photo by Katerina Bartosova on Unsplash

We Are All Sowers

As a child, I spent many a Sunday afternoon at my grandparent’s house. Summertime was my favorite for that was when my grandfather’s watermelons were ripe and ready for picking. He’d take us out back and select one from the garden, take it inside, and slice it up for us to eat. They were so sweet and juicy, no grocery store could ever compare.

It seems the propensity for gardening skipped me. I remember my father planting sunflower seeds and they grew the tallest sunflowers in our side yard. My sister has harvested vegetables of all kinds. But I can barely keep a succulent alive. While I’m not much of a gardener, the Bible tells us that we are all sowers. To sow is to scatter seed with the expectation that it will grow into something. If we are all sowers, what is the seed that we scatter?

To answer that question, it’s helpful to look at the book of Hosea, specifically chapter 8. There we see the prophet speak against Israel’s sin and warn them of judgment to come. Those familiar with the book know that Israel is compared to an unfaithful wife. That’s because God’s people rejected his covenant and broke his law (Hosea 8:1). They put on an outward show of piety and worship but their hearts were far from God. They didn’t seek after God, but sought after idols and worshipped them instead: “With their silver and gold they made idols for their own destruction” (Hosea 8:4) They turned to other kings and other nations for help and rescue and not in the God who made them his own.

God warns them that they will reap what they sow: “For they sow the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind” (Hosea 8:8). Or as Calvin wrote, “they shall receive a harvest suitable to the sowing.” Indeed, Israel reaped the whirlwind when they were later conquered and taken into captivity.

C.H. Spurgeon comments on Hosea 8: “We are all sowing; we cannot help it. No one goes forth in the morning without a seed-basket. As we are all sowing, the great question we have to consider is, “What will the harvest be?” It’s helpful to ask ourselves: Are we sowing seeds of faith or of unbelief? Are we sowing seeds of righteousness or unrighteousness? Are we sowing seeds for this world or the world to come? Are we sowing for our glory or for God’s glory? What we sow, that we will reap. The harvest depends on what is sown. Just as we can’t expect green beans to grow if we’ve sown melon seeds, we can’t expect life to grow from seeds of death.

The Apostle Paul put it this way: “Whoever sows to please their flesh, from the flesh will reap destruction; whoever sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life” (Gal. 6:8 NIV). There is wisdom in thinking through what we are sowing and looking ahead to consider what the potential harvest of that sowing might be. To be aware that we do reap what we sow. That with choices come consequences. But there’s also encouraging news, because when we sow to please the Spirit, we are promised a bountiful harvest. Paul encourages us not to grow weary or give up in our labors: “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up” (Gal. 6:9). Spurgeon encourages us as well: “If we have believed in Christ and received eternal life by faith in him, and if we are trying to labor for him, we are sowing blessed seed; and if it comes not up today, or tomorrow, yet divine grace ensures a crop that we will gather in one of these days. Therefore, we may be encouraged to labor on. The farmer waits for the precious fruits of the earth through the long and dreary winter, through the checkered days of spring, through March winds and April showers he waits until at last the golden harvest rewards him for all his toil. What we sow, we will also reap. Our Lord has told us so.”

As we begin a new year, it’s helpful to ask ourselves: What am I sowing today? And second: What will the harvest be? May we sow that which brings honor to the One who redeemed us for the harvest he promises will last far into eternity.

Photo by Joshua Lanzarini on Unsplash

Looking to Eternity

I once overheard someone comment about midlife saying, “There is nothing more to look forward to.”

When you are young, it seems like life is an open highway stretched out before you. All the big events of life await: graduating high school, going to college, getting your first job. Then you may aspire to get married, have children, and grow in your career. At some point, the road of life narrows. It seems like you’ve accomplished many of the goals and big milestones of life.

Now what?

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Perhaps because I just finished up eleven years of homeschooling and launched my oldest off to college. As my husband and I helped my son move into his college dorm, we couldn’t believe it’s been thirty years since our own college move-in day. When we walked across the campus, memories seemed to pop out from every hallway and building. We marveled at the passage of time. In a few years, we’ll launch our youngest son. What’s next after that? Is it true that there’s nothing more to look forward to?

Sinclair Ferguson, in his book, Devoted to God, comments that for the non-Christian “the future seems long and the past short. Slowly that perspective changes. Eventually the past seems to have been all too short. And now the future seems short too.”[1] We see this in our culture. The young think they have all the time in the world. Until they don’t. Then they live life looking backwards, remembering their glory days, and clinging tightly to the remaining time they have left.

But for the Christian, time is lived differently. Ferguson says that the Christian “lives from the future into the past.” [2] We live in light of eternity, in light of our future glory. Everything is viewed through the lens of what God is doing in the present to prepare us for our future with him forever. Whatever challenges and trials we face today are the material God uses to transform us into the image of his Son. And each day brings us only closer to the day when we will be like him—to when we will see him face to face.

This means that there is more to look forward to, not less! For those of us who have met many of life’s milestones, there is an eternity ahead for us. A brand new highway awaits, one on which we’ve never travelled. And it’s a highway that never ends, it goes on forever. This is hard to imagine. We are bound by time, by the seconds, minutes, and hours that tick by every day. But there is a glorious future ahead. For the Christian, we look forward to the day when we are shed of sin once for all. We look forward to resurrected bodies in the New Heavens and New Earth. We look forward to worshipping our King on the throne, surrounded by believers of all time. We look forward to glory, perfection, unity, and joy unimaginable.

No doubt, the passage of time on this earth is fast. It seems like yesterday our future was wide open and we couldn’t wait to see what awaited. As the years and decades pass, it’s tempting to view life as though the best has already come. But the best is still to come! Christian, your eternity awaits.

“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 Cor. 4:16-18).

[1] Ferguson, Sinclair Devoted to God p. 219

[2] p. 219.

Photo by Felipe Giacometti on Unsplash

Missing a Place I've Never Been

Our family enjoys traveling to visit and tour new places. Whether it’s a city in another part of the country, or another country altogether, we love visiting places we’ve never been. Many of our trips include learning about the history of a place and exploring the beauty of God’s creation. Often, the kids and I will do a unit study on a place, digging into its historical past and its unique culture before we visit. We’ll read both fiction and non-fiction books about the place where we are headed. We’ll learn about the food and talk about the meals we want to try. We’ll also research places to walk or hike during our trip, places where we can witness the creative hand of God. Then we’ll spend months preparing for and looking forward to our trip.

Last year, like everyone else, all our plans to travel were cancelled. I’ve since felt a strong tug to get away and explore the world. I recently watched a travel show about a place I was scheduled to visit this year, but has since been cancelled. As I watched the tour guide explore this place, I felt a twinge of grief. I felt sadness over missing a place I’d never been to before. I felt a longing to be in that place.

The Germans have a word for this feeling: Fernweh. It means a “longing for distant places,” coming from Fern which means “distance” and wehe which means “ache or sickness.” So literally, fernweh means “distance sickening.” It can also refer to the longing for a place you’ve never been to. A place you’ve long dreamed of. A place you know you’ll love.

Perhaps, even a place where you know you belong.

More and more, I have a longing for another place I’ve never been. This longing is shared by all believers, past, present, and future. It’s the place of our citizenship. The place where our Savior now sits at God’s right hand. The place where shalom is ever present and the glories of God are on magnificent display. The place that is our destiny.

Heaven. Our true home.

“But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself” (Phil. 3:21).

I’ve felt this fernweh more and more as the place in which I pilgrimage grows increasingly foreign to me. I’m reminded that I don’t belong and I never will. I’ve felt this longing more and more as I consider Christ and who he is and what it would be like to be in his presence. I’ve felt it as I grieve over my sin and long to be shed of it once for all. I’ve felt it more and more as I contrast this life and the one to come. The more my grip loosens on the things of this world, I long all the more for the next.

When my family and I plan a trip together, we spend time preparing for it. We learn all we can about where we are headed. We learn about the ways of the people and place. We set aside money to invest in the costs associated with the trip. We count down the days until we leave. Oh, that my heart would do this and more to prepare for life in eternity! Oh, that I would store up treasures in heaven, rather than invest in things that will not last!

The feeling of fernweh may one day soon pass once vacations and travel become the norm again. But I pray that my fernweh for heaven never ceases. May I always feel that “distance sickening” until the day I enter the gates of glory.

“If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory” (Col. 3:1-4).

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.

Searching for a Forever Home

I’ve long enjoyed watching those shows where a realtor helps people search for a new house. They usually tour several homes and at the end of the show, they pick their favorite. I like seeing the inside of different homes, the diversity in architecture, and what homes are like in different corners of the country. I often find myself disagreeing with the homeowner’s final choice.

At the start of these shows, the home hunters describe the size and location of the house they desire, often ending with something like this: “We are looking for our forever home.” Forever home. So much is wrapped up in those two words. It’s a sentimental statement for sure, filled with memories, traditions, and family. It evokes feelings of contentment, peace, and satisfaction. There’s a finality to it. A dream come true.

I appreciate the sentiment. I love all things family and tradition. There’s something special about having the perfect picture window to place the Christmas tree in front of each year. Establishing a homestead to raise a generation and have them return each year with their own children is a worthy goal. I can relate to desire to create memories with loved ones gathered around the kitchen counter or dining table. And to etch a child’s height on the doorway molding throughout the years. To have a mantle to hang stockings on each year. To have that big wall in the family room on which to hang pictures of the kids as they grow throughout the years.

But as a believer, whenever I hear the phrase “forever home” I pause, because there’s something lacking in the sentiment. Actually, a few somethings. First, it assumes we know the future. We all want a semblance of control in our lives. Who wouldn’t want to know that you’ll live in the same house, in the same town for the rest of your life? By declaring something as “forever” we attempt to take that control, to steer our life where we want it to go. Yet to declare that where one lives as a “forever home” assumes that we know God’s plan for our lives. But as Proverbs reminds us “The heart of man plans his way, but the LORD establishes his steps” (16:9). It may be that we live in one place for five years and then God calls us to relocate elsewhere. Like all our goals and plans in life, the very place we live ought to be held loosely, yielding to God’s sovereign will and plan. As James exhorts, “you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that” (4:15).

Sometimes, the idea of a “forever home” can become an idol we worship. It can be held up as the epitome of success and achievement in life. It can be one of those things we strive for, so much so, we aren’t satisfied or content until we have it. A house becomes that one thing we think will make us feel content and at peace. I know my own heart has whispered “If only I had__________” (a bigger house, a house with a yard, a house with a playroom, a house with an open concept to hosts friends, a house closer to friends, etc). We look to the perfect home to give our lives meaning and purpose and identity, rather than the One who made us.

The idea of a “forever home” also presupposes that God wants us to park ourselves in one spot and plant roots in the soil of this world. Many in our culture view this world as all there is. They don’t believe in life after death; therefore, they have to live their “best life now.” They have to meet all their goals, achieve all their dreams, and acquire all they can in the here and now. For some, that includes a “forever home.” If life ends at death, it makes sense that one would want a beautiful home to live in “forever.” But for those who are in Christ, we know that this world is not all there is. We are pilgrims— nomads on a journey in this world. This is not our home. Like Abraham, whom God called to himself and set him on a journey to the land of Canaan, we are on a journey to a place God has promised for us. And like Abraham, we won’t settle in that place in this life—he didn’t own but a burial plot when he died.

Our own Savior didn’t have a home of his own (Matt. 8:20). When Jesus ascended into heaven, he said he was going to prepare a forever place for us. One day he will return to judge the earth and make all things new. On that day, we will receive our “forever home.” We will live on the new earth for all eternity, worshiping and praising the One whom is our home and dwelling place. “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God” (Rev. 21:3).

There’s nothing wrong with settling into a home and raising a family there. It’s a blessing not everyone gets to experience, but it is one to be appreciated. We just have to remember that it’s not our ultimate joy. The perfect home will not make us feel complete and whole. It’s a temporary dwelling, a safe and dry place to lay our heads and eat meals with the ones we love. Like any good gift from God, our homes ought to point us to him. Because our real home—our forever home—is found in the presence of God himself.