Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. – 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

The longer I live, the shorter and more fragile time seems, and the more solid eternity appears.

It is Sunday morning, April 11. One week after Easter and in the middle of another gorgeous spring weekend.

I am carrying a lot of gratitude today. But the same time my heart is heavy for the loss that is not only a constant in this nation (from the unrelenting toll of COVID), but currently far too common in our church family via cancer, more cancer, heart attack, and – just yesterday – a tragic fall.

I am reminded that life is a precious gift that can transition into eternity when we least expect it.

At the same time, however, I am reminded that life is also so much more than this journey we experience here on Earth, and that the solid reality of who we are transcends the limitations of physical space and chronological time.

The longer I live, the shorter and more fragile time seems, and the more solid eternity appears.

It is as if the interface of time and eternity is becoming less distinct, and I often find myself wondering exactly where I am living. Not that life is less real but that its limitations are less – well – less limiting.

Anyway, I have become convinced that the more deeply I engage my relationship with God then the more at ease I feel with what is possible. Paul writes that, “Now we see only a dim likeness of things. It is as if we were seeing them in a foggy mirror. But someday we will see clearly. We will see face to face. What I know now is not complete. But someday I will know completely, just as God knows me completely. (1 Corinthians 13). Maybe what the spiritual journey we are taking begins to achieve is clarification to the extent that we can – even now – begin to see with less fog.

Regardless, I am sad to see another kind, authentic, and genuinely good member of our church move on into what-is-to-come now, when we could have enjoyed his positive witness to faith and to love for many more years.

At the same time, with the promise of springtime bursting forth in dramatic style all around us, I feel confident that his journey continues, and that he is resting secure in the eternal arms of his Creator.

These photos of spring around our home are for you, Emory. May you rest in joy – DEREK