Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit in everything to their husbands.
[Ephesians 5:24, ESV]

I can just imagine the hordes of feminists getting out their pens and crossing this verse out of their Bibles. Not only does Paul say that wives are to submit to their husbands, but he explains exactly what he means: in everything. Can’t really build any loopholes out of that! The Greek is equally plain and incontrovertible; everything means everything!

So, we have a command from God to submit to our husbands in everything. Let me the first to say that I fail miserably at this! Everyday, probably: very time I’m lazy and spend time on my own pursuits and the housekeeping goes a bit awry, every time I get unjustly miffed at Seth for some little thing or another, every time he asks me to do something–or I know it would please him if I did something–and I don’t do it, I am failing to submit in everything. In short, this is a hard command to follow! It infiltrates every moment of our homeworking, every breath of our marriages, our finances, our families… that’s what everything means.

While the command is clear, I find myself asking two questions tonight:

1. Are there exceptions to “everything”?
2. What motivates me to such a massive calling?

These aren’t exegetical questions so much as heart questions, so my answers are not theological so much as personal, although I hope they’re scripturally sound!

Are there exceptions to “everything”?
I think this is sort of a trick question, really, although I suspect it’s the most often asked. The only exception that’s is biblical is, of course, when one’s husband is asking one to sin. Clearly, Christ is our Lord far and above the position of our husbands, and submitting to Him is both first and limitless. And since Christ is Lord of our husbands as well (whether Christian or not), I think it’s fair to say that biblical wifely submission in such a case is to obey God rather than man.

But once we get out of the area of direct sin, things are far less clear. What if our husbands want to teach something we think is theologically wrong to our children? Again, there are times when this would be clear–if our husbands forbid us to tell them about Christ, for instance–but what if it was a more minor point of theology, or even something that barely even touches on theology, like politics? Especially for those of us who tend to be more opinionated, it can be a deep struggle to have a disagreement even in such a small subject.

The most helpful thing to me in these situations is to remember that unsubmission should always be a very sorrowful concept. If we are choosing to act contrary to our husbands, and if we believe that we are doing so out of righteousness, then our hearts should ache unbearably! Our husbands are choosing sin, we’re being ideologically completely separated from them, we aren’t happy with them, they aren’t happy with us, and we’re losing the opportunity to move forward in Christ together. In other words, there is no room for gloating, unholy glee, rashness, or self-centered anger. If our hearts aren’t breaking with every act of disobedience, then we’re not being unsubmissive for the right reasons.

To bring this home a bit–I remember one time when I told Seth something along the lines of I think what you’re doing is wrong, in the sense of sin-wrong, and I’m not going to have any part of it. Which sounds really good doctrinally, except that I was saying it because I was frustrated and you’d have been searching my heart for a long time before you found a holy motive. So was I right? Absolutely not!

Secondly, I think that it’s important to remember that nothing should be important to us apart from God. All of our wants and desires–whether mundane, like a fondness for chocolate sundaes, or serious, like a burning desire for motherhood–all these things we are called to subordinate to God’s will. All these things we are called to abandon to God. Not to stop liking them, necessarily, but to order them in our minds so that if, in God’s sovereignty, they are denied us, we find it joy to forsake them for His sake.

In other words, while submitting to our husbands involves varying degrees of self-denial, it’s nothing more than we should already be prepared to do (joyously!) as Christians. The wants we’re talking about abandoning are nothing in comparison to the sweetness of obeying God. And submitting to our husbands is obeying God. This strikes very near to my own heart, honestly, because I often don’t consider things that far. If Seth asks me to do something, I tend to consider it as him asking me to do something, me giving up something I like for him , when really I need to view it as obedience to God.

What motivates me to such a massive calling?
Submission isn’t natural–check out Genesis 3:16–and submission in everything can sound downright unpalatable. So why do we do it? This is one of those areas of theology that must sound absolutely batty to nonbelievers; we give up “everything,” and what do we get in return? What motivates us? Moreover, when we feel unmotivated, how can we learn to enjoy submitting to our husbands?

There’s the obvious answer: heavenly reward. God will reward us for obeying Him. But I think it goes beyond that, and so it’s the here-and-now I want to focus on tonight. As I was studying to write this entry, I came across the following passage in John Gill’s commentary on the verse:

Her head, being wholly dependent upon him, and entirely resigned to him, and receiving all from him; from whom alone is all her expectation of provision, protection, comfort, and happiness; wherefore she has respect to all his commands, and esteems all his precepts concerning all things to be right; and yields a cheerful, voluntary, sincere, and hearty obedience to them; arising from a principle of love to him, and joined with honour, fear, and reverence of him.

To be less archaic, Gill is saying that since a wife is dependent upon her husband for “provision, protection, comfort, and happiness,” she must therefore do what he says, agree with his opinions and obey them, because she loves/honors/fears/reveres him.

As I read, I thought, hmm, Mr. Gill, that sounds rather akin to the philosophy that we should do good works in an attempt to “pay God back” saving us. Like a cosmic thank-you note from us to God. And since John Piper rather throroughly debunked that idea (excellent book, by the way), I’m not sure that I agree with Gill here. Or maybe I’m reading him more chauvinistically than he intended. But while there is a sense in which wives do subordinate themselves to their husbands out of thankfulness for their provision, I think that motivation alone falls far short.

The parallel Paul makes in this passage between Christ/Church and husband/wife is unspeakably valuable. As believers, why do we do good works? Because they please God. And why does that please us? Because our delight is the Lord; pleasing Him is the sweetest thing we know. And yet that very truth is one that we have to learn a bit as we grow in Christ. Sometimes our thick skulls forget that there is no higher pleasure. Sometimes we do the wrong thing in pursuit of something infinitely less grand. And sometimes we do the right thing trusting that it will bring us the most delight, even though we don’t yet know it experientially.

Very similarly, in the sphere of marriage, pleasing our husbands is the sweetest thing we know. Just as we were created human to worship and glorify God, we were created woman to be a helper to man (Genesis 2:18)! As wives, the height of our gender, our identity as female, is to submit to our husbands. The church is the Bride of Christ to submit to and glorify Him; wives are examples of that relationship. Therefore, if submission doesn’t bring us happiness, our worldview needs changed! As Christians, we sin because we forget that our joy is in pleasing the Lord; as wives, we balk at submission because we forget that our joy is in pleasing our husbands.

But how do we get that truth into our minds? What can we do if we don’t feel joy in submission? I’m sure there are many answers to this question, but I would like to propose two.

The first is this: earnest prayer that God would change our hearts. It sounds cliché, but truly, every step on the road to eternity teaches me more and more that God is sovereign, and that He delights in answering our prayers. When things seem hopeless–when we need a massive personality overhaul, for instance!–God is faithful .

The second is, very simply, to seek out and savor the joy when we do submit. Here’s an example: when everything’s going crazy and I really don’t feel like I have time to get dinner on the table, but I do it anyway, I’ve got to treasure Seth’s smile and appreciation; treasure his happiness more than I disliked the “inconveniences” of achieving it. Then the next day when the same thing happens again, I can anticipate that joy as I work towards it. The joy sweetens the work, until it becomes such a state of mind that the work begins to sweeten the joy.

How awesome the gift of submission becomes once we treasure and learn from it as God intended!

Tags: biblical wifehood special tag no 1 submission theology women

I have been reading C.J. Mahaney’s book The Cross Centered Life: Keeping the Gospel the Main Thing over the past few days, and one thing he says has really stuck with me: the Bible is God’s story, not ours, and that should be a guiding factor in the principles we gather from the Word.

His example is David and Goliath. There’s a spectrum of approaches you can take to the passage (I’m broadening this beyond Mahaney, by the way):

Secularistic:
The story of David and Goliath shows us that it isn’t always the strongest that win. A little boy with stones can fell a giant with a sword. Therefore, we should never give up or despair, and if we’re the “big guy” we should be careful not to be over-proud because all it might take is a slingshot to bring us down.

Middle:
The story of David and Goliath shows us that anything is possible when God is on our side. We shouldn’t be afraid of facing off against giants, because if God is with us, we’ll win the battle! Similarly, we see that Goliath was trusting in human power alone and so failed.

Gospel-centered:
The story of David and Goliath shows us that we are utterly hopeless without God. David was totally set up to lose; he couldn’t possibly have beaten a mighty foe like Goliath on his own. But God in His sovereignty is able to use a wretch like David to bring down the mighty. We can also see a parallel to the cross in this story. Like David, we’re in a battle against sin and our flesh that we can’t possibly hope to win. We’re lost causes. But just as God brought David to victory, He brings us to victory in Christ!

Subtle differences, but very profound. From a certain viewpoint, all of these interpretations are valid. You can draw from the text the first implication against overconfidence. You can draw the second implication that with God all things are possible–Philippians 4:13 and Romans 8:31 back up this interpretation very thoroughly. And, of course, you can draw the final implication, that the story shows God’s sovereignty and our weakness.

On the one hand, it seems like the latter interpretation is “forced” on the text. The passage doesn’t talk about Christ, or the redemptive power of the cross. It doesn’t even talk about God’s sovereignty. David doesn’t sit down and compose a psalm of praise when Goliath hits the ground. But. What do we know about God? We know that in Him there is “no variation or shadow due to change” (James 1:17). God’s was doing the same thing and working from the same principles in David’s time as He was when Jesus went to the cross. God’s been “preaching” the Gospel to His people from the moment Adam and Eve stepped out of Eden. And the Gospel as it’s written throughout Scripture is that man is utterly lost without God, but that God is a God of love and salvation so praise Him! And that message is very clear in the story of David and Goliath. David tells Goliath (1 Samuel 17:45-47, ESV):

You come to me with a sword and with a spear and with a javelin, but I come to you in the name of the Lord of hosts, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the Lord will deliver you into my hand, and I will strike you down and cut off your head. And I will give the dead bodies of the host of the Philistines this day to the birds of the air and to the wild beasts of the earth, that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel, and that all this assembly may know that the Lord saves not with sword and spear. For the battle is the Lord’s, and he will give you into our hand.

So why did this exchange between a shepherd boy and a giant even happen? That “all the earth” (!) would see God, and that everyone who witnessed the exchange would learn that the Lord saves, not with human implements and might but by His sovereign power. He had dominion over the battle.

And here we come to a clearer reason why this is God’s story, not David’s. I have heard, so many times, that God “prepared” David for the fight with Goliath through using the fight with the lion and the bear. Like David’s a shepherd boy, sure, but he’s some kind of superhero shepherd. Yet that’s not what the passage is saying at all. David told Saul about those fights as part of his “qualifications,” yes, but he wasn’t saying, look, I fought off a lion and a bear, so I think I can handle a giant. No. David was saying, look, My God delivered me from a lion and a bear, and My God is going to deliver me from your giant. The story of David and Goliath has been about the sovereignty of God all along.

In conclusion, then, I’ve been deeply challenged by Mahaney’s book that when I read Scripture, I should be looking for the Gospel. I should be looking for the good news. Every passage should make me exalt God and abase self; to make me more aware of my helplessness without Him and more aware of His infinite power to save. If we’re reading stories like David and Goliath and coming away with only an interpretation like the middle one above–if we’re only seeing what God can do for us without simultaneously seeing how utterly helpless we are by ourselves–then we’re missing the Gospel, we’re missing the heart; we’re missing the whole point. We’re missing the opportunity to savor the beauty of the cross.

Tags: interpretation of scripture special tag no 1 the sovereignty of God theology verses

Noël Piper has recently started posting on the Desiring God Blog, for which I am thankful. Most “A-List” Christian women bloggers seem to go out of their way to make sure that their readers know that their posts are intended for women, explicitly drawing on the “Titus 2″ tradition, and largely confining their posts to discussions of how to be a good home-keeper, wife, and mother. I’ve seen instances on such blogs where, if a heavily theological issue comes up, the woman blogger will ask her husband to do a guest post to address it, instead of addressing it herself. Mrs. Piper’s two posts thus far are not in that exclusive tradition and contain no disclaimer warning men away. On the contrary, she writes in a blog authored almost exclusively by men, and quite probably read most often by men. And in her latest post, she sets out to expand upon her husband’s latest sermon!

I appreciate that. I struggle much with the issue, all the more because Christian women who blog subjects that can only be defined as “theology” seem to be a rare breed. For that matter, Christian women who write theology books seem equally rare–Elisabeth Elliot is the only one that really comes to mind, and even she does it in a very roundabout way. And yet, nowhere in the Bible does it say “women shalt not speak of the wonders of God except in the presence of younger women and small children,” does it? But that seems to be the consensus nevertheless.

How far removed we have become from the likes of Susannah Spurgeon, who throughout her entire life was very much in public ministry, whether in her little books of “Personal Notes On a Text”, her notes in The Sword and the Trowel publication, or in her immense work of gathering funds and selecting texts and recipients from the countless poor British pastors who applied to her for aid. Of her published devotional works, she wrote, “[the Lord] lead me into this unthought-of service, and most graciously has He hitherto sustained me in it; first giving me in my own heart the joy of His Word, and then enabling me to minister of that rejoicing to others.” In other words, what God taught her from His Word, He enabled and led her into sharing in book form. Moreover, she said, “its one aim and object is to summon the Lord’s people to bless and praise His Holy Name.” What a broad and far-reaching goal, and how immediately applicable to Christians of all ages and genders!

I wonder if she–and Noël Piper–don’t have a better grasp of the role of women than many of us seem to have today. When Priscilla and Aquila (how interesting that Scripture puts her name first!) took Apollos aside to “[explain] to him the way of God more accurately” (Acts 18:26 He began to speak boldly in the synagogue, but when Priscilla and Aquila heard him, they took him and explained to him the way of God more accurately. (ESV)), do we presume that Aquila did all the talking while Priscilla stood meekly by? When we learn that Philip the evangelist “had four unmarried daughters, who prophesied” (Acts 21:9 He had four unmarried daughters, who prophesied. (ESV)), or when Paul gives instruction that women are to cover their heads while prophesying (1 Corinthians 11:5 but every wife who prays or prophesies with her head uncovered dishonors her head, since it is the same as if her head were shaven. (ESV)), do we try to redefine the Greek word to mean something less than it does? When Paul writes of “women, who have labored side by side with me in the gospel” (Philippians 4:3 Yes, I ask you also, true companion, help these women, who have labored side by side with me in the gospel together with Clement and the rest of my fellow workers, whose names are in the book of life. (ESV)), what does he mean? If he wrote of “men, who have labored side by side with me in the gospel,” would we assume something different?

These questions bother me immensely. On the one hand, we have the clear directive that “women should keep silent in the churches” (1 Corinthians 14:34 the women should keep silent in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak, but should be in submission, as the Law also says. (ESV)) and Paul adds that “I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man” (1 Timothy 2:12 I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man; rather, she is to remain quiet. (ESV)). John Gill’s succinct exposition of the latter passage is a common interpretation:

Timothy, no doubt, received much advantage, from the private teachings and instructions of his mother Eunice, and grandmother Lois; but then women are not to teach in the church; for that is an act of power and authority, and supposes the persons that teach to be of a superior degree, and in a superior office, and to have superior abilities to those who are taught by them.

And so, all things considered, it seems that the argument could be made that Scripture’s commands for women to remain silent applies only within the church; that only men should be invited to preach or exhort in worship services. Yet even that is not so clear-cut: does the command apply to Sunday School? (Yes, presumably, since it’s still in church.) Does the command apply to night-time Bible studies held at the church? (Again, presumably.) Does the command apply to Bible studies held informally in people’s homes? (Not by the same logic, since it is not in or affiliated with church. And yet, would a woman teaching a Bible study to a mixed group in her own home still be “exercising authority over a man” even though it’s outside of the church context?) I don’t know all the answers. It doesn’t help that the traditions we’ve built up to supplement Scripture cloud the issue. And yet the question is of vital importance.

When it comes to Christian women blogging, some concrete answers must be found! For instance, I’m assuming that none of you reading here think that what I’ve been doing in writing thus far has been wrong, even though many of my posts are much more theologically-oriented than the average female Christian blogger. But there are things I’ve been learning from Scripture that I have not shared; things where perhaps many of you would disagree with me. If I shared those things with the same conviction that I’ve shared my belief in God’s unwaveringly astounding grace, would I suddenly be out of line merely because I would be controversial? There have been subjects debated in the blogosphere of Christian male bloggers lately–if I weighed in on some of the debates, would I be overstepping my bounds? Am I regulated to discussing only the “obvious” parts of Scripture and those which immediately concern homemaking? (And even to the latter–since most women are “older” women compared to me, am I overstepping my bounds to discuss even the home?)

It is not my intention to be flippant or irreverent here; the issue is utterly serious. I am a housewife; I have deep respect for the many women out there who do a better job at homemaking than I do. I learn from them and I appreciate their testimonies of love for their families. I also have deep respect for the roles God has created for men and women, and in theology I’m as complementarian as they come! But legalism is no better than liberalism, and the examples of Susannah Spurgeon, Elisabeth Elliot, Noël Piper, and women in Scripture itself stand in stark contrast to the lack of boldness displayed by many women bloggers today. We’re putting our lights under bushels! Does it glorify God to have so many blogs where women pour out their ideas about how to please their husbands and raise their children, but never ponder publicly on pleasing their Lord and Saviour? Does it glorify God to pontificate endlessly on how wonderful “dear husband” is, while reserving few words to describe the magnificence and majesty of God Himself?

We should be as gutsy as Susannah Spurgeon:

In these days of daring infidelity, and awful treason against the Most High, I count it an unspeakable honour to be permitted to testify to the power of the old truths, and the pleasantness of the old paths, and the unfailing faithfulness of God in the fulfilment of each and all of His precious promises; and though my voice is less than a Whisper amid the roar and turmoil of conflicting opinions and blasphemous theories, I know that God can hear it, and that He will accept the loving tribute which my heart thus offers to Him.

We too live in days of daring infidelity and awful treason against the Most High. Shall we also testify to the power of the old truths, or are we content to share recipes and laundry-folding techniques? May unbelieving readers never read our blogs and conclude that our whole life is swallowed up in serving our husbands and maintaining a good home! Instead let us confront them with the reality of the Gospel and the beautiful arrangement God has set forth wherein we serve our husbands and maintain a good home because, and only because, we are serving the Lord Most High and our true Delight is exclusively Him.

Tags: bloggers more coherent special tag no 1 susannah spurgeon theology women

I think I appreciated the blog (linked a few days ago in the “asides”) of Al Groves and his family so much because in so many ways, their situation is precisely that which I dread: both he and I had rare primary cancers that are “treatable” in the initial form, but with reasonably high potential for secondary cancers down the road that are intrinsically untreatable.

The next time I go to have scans done, I could very well find out that I have one of those incurable secondary cancers. That’s a very intimidating thing to live with: to know that I could feel perfectly healthy, but go to a routine doctor appointment and come home with a number measured in weeks or months called “life expectancy.”

If I haven’t been clear on this before, let me be very clear now: that is what I struggle with, cancer-wise–knowing that this precise scenario is more likely than, say, me being in a car accident. And I’m one of these people who wants to plan everything out. I am not spontaneous. I like to control my environment. And if I’m going to suddenly get the news that I’m going to die, well, I’d like to at least feel a little bit sick first so I can grow accustomed to the idea before having it thrust upon me, you know?

Mainly I’m afraid of how I will react, if that situation ever comes to pass. When you’re sitting in the doctor’s office waiting for results that are either “completely clear” or “imminent death,” let me tell you, it’s hard to prepare yourself mentally. It’s so stressful every time I go, because either I have to just ignore the possibility of the latter (and if it ever happens, be completely off-guard), or meditate on the possibility (and if it doesn’t happen, waste untold hours in useless stress). It’s a lose-lose situation from a human standpoint. But it’s really, really important to me to be in a position to react correctly if I do get the “bad” news.

(And yes, yes, I know the “right” answer–pray and trust God, and be prepared to be content with either situation, and don’t be anxious–but that’s very much harder to live than it is to say. I haven’t perfected the knack yet, and I don’t know that I will until I’m in heaven!)

All that to say… the reason the Groveses’ blog was so encouraging to me is because it helped me see a real, visible outworking of what to do in that situation. It makes me feel better prepared. It makes me less stressed. It makes me better able to praise God. I wanted to jot down some specific “lessons” I learned from the site.

• Don’t discount miracles. This is really big for me, because I tend to (at least live like I) believe that God very, very, very infrequently heals people who medically have “no hope.” And I didn’t get the impression that the Groveses expected a miracle, but they were very precise in making sure that they still accorded God, not cancer, the credit for death. They used words like “medically incurable” and didn’t dwell on “I’m going to die” in a matter-of-fact way. Just because doctors give you a month to live doesn’t mean that you know your time.
• Don’t dwell on death. Again, they were realistic about the probabilities, but I loved the entry where he talked about flossing his teeth, and clearly he was very involved in people’s lives right up through January. There almost seemed to be a “when it happens, it happens,” attitude which I think (reflectively) is hugely important.
• In the process of dying, death becomes more comfortable. This is closely tied to the previous point; I found it amazing and very uplifting that as the end grew more obviously near, the family seemed to grow more at peace with the fact. Instead of becoming frantic and “only one more week!” there was the emphasis on how much better heaven would be than earthly suffering. It just goes to show how God uses suffering and pain to prepare our hearts better for heaven, and it it is a great encouragement to me to know that if my day ever comes, I can at least reasonably hope that similarly, God will make sure that circumstances collide so that I and those around me are glad to see me go before I actually have to go. This was a really important point for me, and I hope I’m expressing it comprehensibly.
• “Dealing” isn’t necessary. At least not publicly! Seriously, though–part of understanding these previous three points is the logical conclusion that we shouldn’t borrow tomorrow’s troubles for today. It’s very hard not to do so (especially for someone like me!), but it seems like it is better to trust that whatever unhappy news tomorrow might bring, God will give us enough grace to survive it… tomorrow. And trying to prepare ourselves ahead of time for unhappy news we think might be coming is, in a way, evidencing a lack of faith in God to provide for us when it actually happens.

I don’t know the Groves family, obviously–I don’t know anything about them beyond what I read on their blog, which I read from beginning to end as I sat at my computer and cried and cried for their joy and for their loss and for their unwavering faith. And I don’t know that they would agree with these four things I learned from them. But I am so thankful for their testimony, because God used it in my heart in a very practical and immediate way, both cautioning and comforting me.

I would again encourage everyone to read the blog, starting at the beginning (and reading at least the beginning and end, if not the middle, although it’s all worth reading)–it is immensely encouraging and amazing evidence of what a gracious and all-powerful God we serve.

Tags: special tag no 1

I have a huge box of Sprees setting on my desk. Sprees are like Sweettarts in their childishness, and I bought them only “to satisfy the occasional intervals of my real-or-imagined hypoglycemia.” Fact is, though, I like Sprees. Which is why I’m sitting here right now nibbling on a pile of little purple, orange, yellow, and green discs.

When I opened the box tonight to dump some out, at least half the pile was red. I dutifully pushed the red ones back through the tiny hole, closed the box, and put it back on the shelf, leaving me with the aforementioned multicolored arrangement. And then my head went off on this total tangent about heaven.

Red Sprees are my favorite. They taste significantly better than all the other colors. And, at some point, I’ll have a nice little pile of solidly red Sprees to eat without guilt. I can’t stand the thought of eating all the reds first. It’s cheating, you know? And I’m always like that — the last food I touch on my plate is the one I like the most. (Yes, I’m one of those annoying people who keep their food in carefully separated little piles and eat one food completely before beginning on another.) When I eat Chex Mix, I pick through and eat all the peanuts first. I eat around the chocolate chips in mint chocolate chip ice cream. I take the cherry off the top of the sundae and eat it last. I push the cranberries in my cereal off the spoon until all the flakes and milk are gone. I save the best for last. To an irritating and sincerely odd extent. Why? Because I love anticipating something great far more than I enjoy having something good.

I’m in the middle of The Pilgrim’s Regress, by C.S. Lewis. Lewis is a strangely significant thread in my life; I read the Narnia books at age six and everafter dove into his books with a ferocity unmatched to any other author. The story of the pilgrim, too, has been in my mind since childhood; I discovered Bunyan’s tale even earlier than Lewis’s. At any rate, thus far, Regress is delicious and thoughtful. I was flipping through the book earlier today to ascertain whether or not it was worth my time, and I stumbled onto this passage:

There was a long silence in the cave except for the sound of the rain. Then John began once more:
          ‘And yet…’ he said, ‘and yet, Father, I am terribly afraid. I am afraid that the things the Landlord really intends for me may be utterly unlike the things he has taught me to desire.’
          ‘They will be very unlike the things you imagine. But you already know that the objects which your desire imagines are always inadequate to that desire. Until you have it you will not know what you wanted.’

I’m also staring at a quote on my wall by A.W. Tozer:

When the habit of inwardly gazing Godward becomes fixed within us, we shall be ushered onto a new level of spiritual life… the Triune God will be our dwelling place even while our feet walk the low road of simple duty here among men.

Also (ESV):

2 Corinthians 5:1-9
For we know that if the tent, which is our earthly home, is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened–not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee. So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him.

Hebrews 11:16
But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.

John Piper (y’all tired of hearing ’bout him yet? He’s got a conference thing in Annapolis in… June, and I might just go) writes about “future grace.” Michael Card sings about the “joy in the journey,” Steven Curtis Chapman sings “keep on looking ahead / but let your heart not forget / we are not home yet,” and Geoff Moore asks that we be found “working with hearts that are waiting.”

I know this is kind of an old topic for me, but it’s something I understand more and more (and less and less :-)) as time goes on. I eat the red Sprees last because I want to, because knowing what great things are coming is almost as sweet as actually experiencing the great things. And, as a believer, I know that great things are coming (as Lewis points, out, they’re far beyond my imagination, awesomely) — and there is that sense of why not now? that Paul hints at in Philippians — but mostly, it’s just like, wow. God is giving me this experience of waiting, and teaching me to find the joy and sheer pleasure to be found in future grace.

I don’t know much about what heaven will be like. I’ve honestly never made a study of the subject, and I’ve never been in an environment that considered eschatology extremely important. But I do know that the “big thing” about it is that God will be there, and we’ll drink in His presence to an extent we can’t even presently understand. Words don’t go far enough to describe how excellent that thought is.

But what joy it is to wait, knowing well the object and end.

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