Remembering the Future
In these bodies we will live
In these bodies we will die
Where you invest your love
You invest your life.
—Awake My Soul, Mumford & Sons
Today was supposed to be a productive day. But it’s been composed of unexpected conversations with family members, my neighbor, and God instead. The past couple of weeks have been full of conversational moments—some with words, some without. As I write, I’m thinking about the familiar warmth of my grandmother’s body next to mine as we lay side by side in her tiny hospital bed just last week, watching game shows from 1979. As we watched the fuzzy show flicker across the flatscreen I wondered how many of the people in the audience and on stage were gone now. Did they take their prizes with them? My grandma laughed at their antics and for a moment felt far away from me, like we were living on two different channels. Her backbones are fractured and I didn’t want to say goodbye. When I said goodbye we held each other and prayed and her pink lipstick got on my blue sweater to make purple and the nurse came in with pills but slowly backed out when she saw us and then when I stood in the doorway, looking back at my grandma lying there so small, we both laughed about something trivial to keep from crying. “You’re leaving just in time; there’s a snow storm brewing” said the older man who drove me to the airport smelling of cigarettes and what the sun does to fallen leaves. I wondered why he drove a rental car van when the dirt beneath his nails told me a different story about what makes his heart sing. Maybe he drives so he can keep getting Montana dirt beneath his nails. I left just in time, but don’t know how much time I have left with my grandma. And that hurts.
Today I woke up and vowed to finally edit my podcast and write something spectacular. But instead I watched the birds eating their breakfast as I ate mine and we spoke without words about what goodness tastes like. I talked with my neighbor about the rising cost of living and he somehow managed to work in that his wife thinks I never leave the house and I faintly said “Well, I work from home” before going inside and wondering where I’d go that wouldn’t ask for money I don’t have or make promises no amount of food, clothing, or entertainment could keep. “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” Peter said when Jesus asked his disciples, “Do you want to leave me?” Lord, don’t leave me. To whom would I go?
I don’t know how you voted, or what hurts today. I don’t know what you see when you look out your window or in your bathroom mirror. Do you like what you see? What if everything about you belongs here and was also made for another world—a world hidden within this one, just bursting with the excitement of a secret long-kept? I’ll simply say this: There’s a bigger story being told than the one we think we’re living. Each day, there’s a reason to celebrate: “We celebrate in hope of the glory of God” (Romans 5:2). There is coming a day when all that was hidden will be revealed. When those seeds of glory planted deep within us will respond to the undeniable Light of a thousand suns and blossom into something far more beautiful, fragrant, and true than we ever dreamed. On that day, broken bones and broken hearts will be healed. Perhaps the lilies of the field who neither toil nor spin will tell us their secret, and we will finally learn to live freely and lightly.
We will see all the saints who have gone before us, and maybe we will ask them directions to the Heavenly City, where the trees bear fruit to heal the nations, and the Lamb is the lamp of that City, and all sorrow and sighing and sadness will flee away. Until then, we keep watch and pray. We invest our love in what matters most. We celebrate in hope. We remember the future, today.
Awake, my soul!
You were made to meet your Maker.
—Awake My Soul, Mumford & Sons