Something has been on my mind lately, and I’d like to process it here with you.
My father died suddenly 60 years ago; I was seven years old at the time. Over the next twenty years or so, I thought of Dad daily, albeit through the lens of loss, blurring over an ever-expanding distance in time. As the years ushered me through the various stages of life, there came a point when I thought of him less frequently, and then not much at all. This has suddenly changed.
My life here on Earth is much closer to its omega than its alpha, and as time rolls on, the crystallizing reality of reunion with my father eclipses the mere conceptual notion of it. The growing chasm of separation from him succumbs now to the closing gap unto reunion. Hope now fills a well I did not know was dry, and balm soothes a wound I scarcely knew lay open. Is there a Biblical basis for reuniting with those we knew then lost? I believe the Bible says, yes.
When at seven days the baby born extramaritally to David and Bathsheba died, the grieving king lamented the loss of the child, while also acknowledging their eventual reunion: “Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will not return to me.”1 When Peter, James and John witnessed Jesus’ transfiguration — His face shining brightly and His clothes dazzling whitely2 — Moses and Elijah joined Him there, each apparently identifiable and retaining his individuality long after his earthly demise. In his Genesis account, Moses records the passing of “the father of all who believe”3 this way: “Abraham breathed his last and died in a good old age, an old man and full of years, and was gathered to his people.”4 David’s obituary — “David rested with his ancestors and was buried”5 — adds the peaceful element of rest, a seeming cessation of strife. Both accounts paint the portrait of reunion.
Yet there is something greater here, a larger context, a higher vision. Paul glimpses the great day still to come: “The dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord.”6 We will be together with each other, and what a joyous reunion that will be. Greater still, we will aways be with the Lord. Together.
Reunion awaits. What higher hope could there be?
Father, thank You for those who have gone on before us into Your presence. May we, like them, place our full confidence in Your Son Jesus, that when the time comes, we will together reunite with the Lord. In Christ we pray. Amen.
1 2 Samuel 12:23 ESV
2 For ESV accounts of the transfiguration, see Matthew 17:1–8, Mark 9:2–8, and Luke 9:28–36.
3 Romans 4:11 ESV
4 Genesis 25:8 ESV, emphasis added
5 1 Kings 2:10 NIV
6 1 Thessalonians 4:16-17 ESV, emphasis added
The Maturity of Childlike Trust
For several years, Howard and Kim and their two children joined other families on an annual short-term mission trip to Quinhagak, Alaska, a remote village 350 miles below the Arctic Circle and just a mile off the Bering Sea. Arriving their first year, the adults — about 18 of them — gathered in a school building to pray and strategize about how to interact with this Yupik indigenous people group. How do we connect? How do we relate? Yupik is their primary language, so how do we build relationships? At some point during their contemplation, the adults looked outside the windows at the dilapidated playground where the Yupik kids and their young guests from the lower 48 were “having the time of their lives,” truly bonding in the universal language of play. Kim recalls, “It was like God saying, ‘Just be like little kids. Humble yourself, just relate.’”
We tend to complicate things, don’t we? Relationships, foremost. Ultimately our openness comes down to this: Can I trust your character, and can I expose mine? The children of Quinhagak and their new friends showed what it means to live “Yes” and “Yes,” naturally connecting, relating, and building relationships. And wasting no time in the process! It recalls an incident when twelve gatekeeping disciples attempted to bar children from Jesus’ presence. “[Jesus] was indignant. He said to them, ‘Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these. Truly I tell you, anyone who will not receive the kingdom of God like a little child will never enter it.’”1 Isn’t this the kind of open relationship God desires to have with all of us — joyful, unhindered, belonging, receiving? There was amid these children no second-guessing of Jesus’ character, nor was there any holding back of their own, just eagerness and trust, delighting in Him who delights in us.
This is submission of self in confidence to Christ. This is the maturity of childlike trust. Then may we, too, “humble ourselves, and just relate.” With Jesus.
Epilogue. “And [Jesus] took the children in his arms, placed his hands on them and blessed them.”2 May He do the same with us, His children, today.
O Lord, You are compassionate and good, humble and kind, truthful and forgiving. Remind us each day of Your boundless love for us, that we would eagerly, openly and completely trust You with our very lives. In Christ we pray. Amen.
1 Mark 10:14-15 NIV
2 Mark 10:16 NIV
The Unseen God Sees Us
“We walk by faith, not by sight.” 2 Corinthians 5:7 ESV
As children, my brother, sister, and I engaged one day in an impromptu game of Hide & Seek. Eric was the seeker and, after he found me, we both went searching for Lisa, who was two years old at the time. We found her lying face down on the kitchen floor, her hands covering her eyes, and being very quiet. Our mother whispered to us that, since Lisa could not see us, she thought we could not see her. So Eric and I started walking about the house, asking aloud, “Where’s Lisa? Where’s Lisa?” A little betraying giggle arose from the kitchen floor. “There she is!”
In his first letter to Timothy, the apostle Paul exalted God as “the unseen one . . . he alone is God.”1 Not seeing Him, however, sometimes leaves us wondering if He sees us. Oddly, we’re quite convinced He observes our sins, but less certain as to our hurts and needs. We lament with David, “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?”2 Yes, fear comes to us more naturally than faith. But God is loving and faithful, and He acts in His higher ways and in His perfect timing. For instance, when Sarai’s pregnant servant Hagar fled from her in fear, an angel appeared and assured Hagar not only of a son, but offspring beyond number.3 So, Hagar gave this name to the Lord: El Roi, or “You are the God who sees me.”4 What a humble, beautiful and liberating confession.
Paul teaches us, “The things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal,”5 and so “We look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen.”6 That’s what faith is, “confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”7 It is the creature who is flesh submitting to the Creator who is Spirit. And our faith pleases God, for it echoes throughout the heavens and the earth His character, moreover the entrustment of ourselves to Him.
Then what must we do? Seek Him boldly and in full confidence, for the unseen God will not hide from us. Rather, “When you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.”8
Father, today I rest completely in this: You are the God who sees me. To the King of the ages, immortal, invisible, the only God, be honor and glory forever and ever.9 In Christ we live; in Him we pray. Amen.
1 1 Timothy 1:17 NLT
2 Psalm 13:1 ESV, emphasis added
3 Genesis 16:7-12 ESV
4 Genesis 16:17 NIV
5 2 Corinthians 4:18b ESV
6 2 Corinthians 4:18a ESV
7 Hebrews 11:1 NIV, emphasis added
8 Matthew 6:6 NIV
9 1 Timothy 1:17 ESV