He Restores the Years

I’m a bit overwhelmed this afternoon, and not entirely sure that I’ll be able to find words.

And, really, maybe, no words need to be found. But, me being me, of course I must try.

I had the honor, gift, privilege of singing an incredible song this morning, along with our phenomenal choir and band at church. Amazing experience. Never before have I sung something, and wished so fervently in that moment, or immediately after, to see Jesus face-to-face. At least, not to the degree that this morning brought.

Even so, come quickly Lord.

What will it be like, to see Him “high and exalted”? To be able to say “my eyes are fixed upon His face”?

I can’t even imagine, really—although, this morning, I believe, came very close.

Honor and power, dominion and praise–Unto the Lamb, who was and is, and is to come.

I could have sung it a dozen times this morning.

And while the lyrics echo those found in Revelation, for me personally–in that moment, they were more a reflection of the words found in Joel 2:

I will restore to you the years
that the swarming locust has eaten,
the hopper, the destroyer, and the cutter,
my great army, which I sent among you.

26 “You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied,

    and praise the name of the Lord your God,

    who has dealt wondrously with you.

And my people shall never again be put to shame.

27 You shall know that I am in the midst of Israel,

    and that I am the Lord your God and there is none else.

And my people shall never again be put to shame.
They were joy.
They were a recognition that God is a God who restores year eaten away by the locusts.
Locusts are odd creatures.  On a couple of occasions, I visited my grandparents in Southern Illinois for a week or so.  I liked visiting them; mainly because I adored my grandpa.  But also, they lived in the country, which was always an adventure.  A garden to tend, a riding lawn mower to use, the wooden bridge that crossed the train tracks, where grandpa carved our names and where we would throw rocks off the bridge, trying to “ping” them on the rails.
But one of my favorite things to do was to hunt around the property for locusts that were getting ready to shed their skin.  Once I’d find one, I’d grab a lawn chair and sit and watch.  For a long time; because it was a long process.  After the locust had emerged and had finally flown off, I’d carefully remove the shell–the carcass of skin–and carefully wrap it in toilet paper and place it in a shoebox that I kept for that purpose.  Yes, I was an odd locust-shell hoarder child.
But my grandpa didn’t like  the locusts.  They ate his corn leaves, his tomato leaves, his lettuce leaves.  The words scripture uses to describe them are so accurate:  swarming.  hopping.  cutter.  destroyer.
I think those same words could be used for sin.  Ours, others.  And, the evil one, who seeks to consume and devour.  And, sometimes, life.
And these things–sin, the evil one, and even life, can eat away at the years.  I know this full well.
But God is talking here about His own army of locusts, sent out among the people.  We discussed that a bit in Sunday school this morning; it is a hard thing to grasp.  His righteousness.  His holiness.  His sovereignty.  I can’t grasp it.
However, I do know the experience of lost years.
But.
He is the restorer of those lost years.
He is Job’s restorer.
He is Israel’s restorer.
He is your restorer.
He is my restorer.
And, in the moments of singing “Hallelujah” this morning, in the crescendo of worship, in that very moment, this passage in Joel was no longer words on a page, but words in my soul:
“….praise the name of the Lord your God,

    who has dealt wondrously with you.“
My soul, my soul, my soul.  He has dealt wondrously with me.  Wondrously.  Hallelujah.
He is not far away.  He is near.  He has not and will not forsake.  He is near.  He is in our midst.  He is near.  He is the Lord our God.

There is none else.

I love how this passage ends: “….And my people shall never again be put to shame.“

I have known the drowning weight of shame. I still fight it/know it, and maybe I always will. But, what I fail so often to comprehend is this: God doesn’t restore the years only to expect us to dwell in that dark, red-faced, head-lowered prison of shame. He restores the years so we can and will “fix our eyes upon His face……”

He restores the years, so that we can and will lift up our faces and sing “All praise, unto the Lamb….who was and is, and is to come.”