At the edge of eternity

At the edge of eternity.png

This past week in the Netherlands I was a guest member of the teen Bible camp run by the missionaries. It was a mentally and physically tiring week, but it was so worth it to get to be with these incredible teens and staff members.

Thursday night we ended with a campfire song and testimony service. It was a beautiful time of reflection together, and was also a sobering time as everyone considered the situations they would be walking back into the next day. But for one night more, these teens were surrounded by people who loved and supported them and encouraged them to walk closer with God. For one night more they were challenged to make their short lives here on earth count.

Friday morning after one last breakfast, everyone gathered together for the final quiet time. We finished Romans 13:

“…Knowing the time, that now it is high time to awake out of sleep: for now is our salvation nearer than when we believed. The night is far spent, the day is at hand: let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light.” (Romans 13:11-12)

Together we sang “Er is een dag” (there is a day) with hearts simultaneously rejoicing and longing for that day to come, when we will step into the other side of eternity and see His face. A day when there will be no more difficulties, no more loneliness, no more tears, no more pain. A day when we will be surrounded by the children of God worshiping Him together.

He which testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus. (Revelation 22:20)

Soon we will see Him
And forever be like Him
And know Jesus as He is, amen!
No more tears, no more pain
Because we will live with Him
In His nearness, forever.
Amen, amen!

(translation is mine, so forgive any errors and approximations)

It was a beautiful week. It was not always what I expected, and it certainly wasn’t easy. Long days with constant Dutch tended to fry my brain as well as leave me physically tired. Sometimes Dutch would be a breeze, and other times I could barely put together a sentence, or someone would have to repeat a simple sentence three times before I could understand. It wasn’t immediately easy to interact with the teens or join their conversations–I had to go out of my way to start them. And understanding the instructions for the games was always a struggle. But what an outstanding week. I had the incredible opportunity to love these teens and staff and be a part of their lives for 7 special days, as well as to learn and grow, myself.

Thursday night as I was up late laughing with the teens and failing miserably at a card game for the tenth or so time, yet somehow managing Dutch quite well for 1 a.m., I realized that this was a place I felt like I belonged. They made me feel like I belonged. And I can’t even tell you how many people asked if I would come back next year or if I would move there. As I sat on the floor outside my cabin’s room processing the week I wrote these words…

I found my gal. I knew it was her when I first talked to her one-on-one earlier this week and she told me she was not so good with English. I knew she was the one I’d been praying for, the one I’d been expecting before this week even began.

And I held her in a hug tonight after the campfire service while tears slid down her face and she forced out barely intelligible words in Dutch. And when she was finished speaking, I was able to tell her in her own language, “You know what? I was learning Dutch before I even knew I would come here. And I stuck with it, even though almost everyone thought it was crazy. People told me ‘everyone there speaks English and no one anywhere else speaks Dutch, so learning that language is useless.’ And that made me a bit frustrated. You know what I told them? I said that if there was only one person who didn’t in fact speak English, it would be worth it to learn Dutch. I hadn’t met that person yet. I didn’t know if I would or not. But something made me keep learning anyway. And now I’m here. Now I’m here and maybe you were that person God had me learn Dutch for all along. Just so I could come all the way from Florida and speak in Dutch with you here and tell you how much Jesus loves you no matter what.”

“Heel mooi,” she breathed. “Voor mij? Echt?”

Yes, very beautiful.

This crazy kind of love, that God would choose to send His own Son for us. And that he would have a Florida girl learn a “small, unimportant” language for three years before sending her to a small camp in a small country to speak with a small girl.

It’s so…not huge and yet unbelievably wonderful at the same time. It wasn’t a dramatic conversion story. Just a girl who needed a hug and some comfort, and she wanted to hear it from me.

This is missions, I think. I think of Katie Davis in Africa. You can’t change the world for everyone, and in fact, not even for one person. God does that. But you can be there. And you can love them. And in “foreign missions”? You can learn to love their country, their language, their ways–you can learn to eat without using a napkin, and eat all kinds of stuff on bread. You can learn to speak your mind in a very frank and honest way. You can learn to be one of them. And you can love them. I think that is my greatest takeaway from this week–LOVE THEM with all that you have and are, in the best way you can, and in whatever opportunities God gives you. I can see that Daniel loves them so, so much. I’ve watched as he speaks and his heart breaks over them. I’ve listened as he prays and asks God to open their eyes and their hearts. And he enjoys being with them. He is there for them. And he speaks truth to them.

And this is THE mission.

How beautiful indeed. How very worth it all. Worth every speck and drop of life I have to give. Wherever I am. Whenever I am there. For the King who holds the whole world and yet also holds my redeemed heart. 


 

This is what it is like to catch a realization of eternity:

The long long long rope of which you can see only one end. A bit of tape on that visible end that represents life on earth. So much contained in eternity, and compared to that, life here is so…short.

This is what it is like to see a glimpse of eternity:

“Small” moments that are utterly life-changing. Moments you wish would go on forever in their simple existence. Singing softly around a campfire, grateful words spoken, tears dribbling on the dusty ground. Tissues passed around. Togetherness. Moments of silence. Love that is so real, so tangible, you feel you could reach out and grab hold of it.

This is what it is like to stand at the edge of eternity:

To realize that Jesus is coming and He is coming soon. To read with awe and wonder about the moment when He will take us up to be with Him, and to close your eyes to better envision the streets of gold and gates of gems. But most of all to savor the thought of one day seeing His face.

This is what it is like to live in the hope of eternity:

Knowing there will be a day…a day when the end of life as we know it shall come, and all the sorrow and the pain and devastation and striving of this life shall come to a close. To sing with joy and longing about the day we will see Him and know Him the way we were always meant to know Him. To rejoice in the parting, knowing we will see each other again in heaven, if nowhere else on this earth.

We walk. With certainty of knowing the Eternal One is with us every moment.

We sing. With the joy of this eternal hope.

We stand. With eyes gazing upward, fixed on the edge of eternity.

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