Heaven | All is Well

The Already and the Not Yet

August 15, 2016 By Shelly Durkee

There is an already.

And there is a not yet.

And I’ve always thought that somehow, we who are Christ-followers (and, those who are not–so truly, all of mankind), are somewhere in this in-between area suspended between the two, as we live in this present age.

But tonight I am rethinking that idea.

I’ve been reading–and writing–my way through Dr. John Frame’s Systematic Theology. I’m grateful to P&R Publishing for this opportunity, and grateful for Dr. Frame’s labor to produce a very comprehensive, yet applicable tome that covers a tremendous scope of effort. If interested, you can read my introduction to this series at this link: Theology is…. Also, I’ll add links to my other postings about earlier chapters below.

You know that cliché–“Too heavenly minded to be any earthly good?” Yeah? Well–first let me share that I abhor clichés. Very much so, in fact. But sometimes…well, sometimes they hit a bit close to home. And, I’m afraid, that sometimes I wander a bit closely to this one.

I focus much on the “not yet”……. the home that is to come, when Christ returns or this life ends and I find myself before my God. I ache for the day that no longer will I see as in a mirror dimly, but rather see Him face-to-face. (1 Corinthians 13:12). I yearn for the day that what I know in part becomes fully known–just as my Savior fully knows me. (also 1 Corinthians 13:12)

However, reading through Frame’s chapter titled The Kingdom of God (Chapter 5) has reminded me of something that I need reminded of–often. The two–the already and the not yet–co-exist in a way that we can neither explain nor ignore.

The present age that we live in, is not some cosmic “holding pen”, where we are biding our time until we are called to our final destination. Yet please, hear me say this: I am not saying that we are not sojourners here. We are; very much so. This is not our home, we who are Christ-followers. We are, in all ways, passing through. Our citizenship lies in the eternal sanctification that we are called to in the “not yet”. But this present age is also a part of the Kingdom of God. It is the “already”. And while there is tremendous grief and suffering that we witness–and experience–in this present life (oh, my soul, how deeply I have known that grief!)–the reason we can have hope in that grief, is because there is an “already”.

The Kingdom of God is present. Today.

Frame shares this, regarding “the age to come”:

“The “age to come,” however, is the age of fulfillment…In the understanding of those Jews who believed in resurrection, “that age” follows our death and God’s final judgement. In “the age to come,” God’s people have “eternal life” (Mark 10:30)…..

…But, the remarkable thing about NT teaching, in contrast with the Jewish conception, is that in one sense the “age to come” has already appeared in Christ. Believers in Christ are those “on whom the end of the ages has come” (1 Cor. 10:11).” (Frame, pg. 89)

Remarkable, indeed. Because, sometimes–sometimes I get so wrapped up in the concept that “there will be a day, with no more tears–no more suffering”, that I forget to see the remarkable impact that Christ’s resurrection has on this age. On my life today, sitting here at my desk in a small, marshy peninsula on the East Coast of the United States, as I hear my laundry machine humming, as I listen to my girl practicing her violin in her room, and as I hear my boy cooking himself an egg sandwich in the kitchen–because he never, ever is full (such is the life of a 17-year-old boy).

Christ’s resurrection is what gives me–and you, dear reader–the hope we so desperately need and desire, here in this present age. The truth of scripture lays out that hope for us in the accounts of our Lord’s death, burial and resurrection. Just as the disciples and the women who went to the tomb found their utter despair turned upside down in a split second, we, too, can and do have that same life-giving hope.

And that hope should color everything we do and say. It should be the lens through which we view all of life–the good, and the sorrowful. The joys and the griefs. The moments of elation, and the moments of tremendous despair. It is what allows us to be able to grasp what is written 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18–that we do not grieve as others who have no hope. It is a hope that we have in the “already”. And it is a hope that will be fully realized, in the “not yet”.

I never want to lose site of the truth that this is not my home. I will always long for that home. Maybe more than some. I have seen much in this life, that makes me long for the truth that “there will be a day”.

But I don’t want to become so future-focused that I neglect to see the “already” that we have in this present age: that Jesus has already ushered in the Kingdom of God. He stands at the right-hand of His father. He sees and knows us, and grieves over the suffering in this world. And He is a holy and just God, who, in His sovereignty, rules this present age every bit as much as the age to come.

This is why there is joy, and hope, in this present age that also contains much sorrow and suffering–because He is King, in the now. He is King, in this “already” of every day life, as we wait for the “not yet”.

(If you would like to check out Frame’s Systematic Theology, you can find more information at the P&R Publishing website, located at this link: Systematic Theology by John Frame) or by clicking the picture of the book above this post.)

For Our Sake, It Is Well

June 28, 2015 By Shelly Durkee

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

Interesting, the contrast of peace as a river, and sorrows as a billowing sea. Contrast and compare. Whatever my lot. But here is the thing, o my soul, it is You, God, who teaches me to say “it is well”. It is not me, not my stoic nature, nor my willful determined-ness (or stubbornness, as the case may be. It is You, and You alone, who teaches me to say that my soul is well. That teaches me that the wellness of my soul is directly proportionate to the truth of your sovereignty. You are before, you are behind, and all is well.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

It is the assurance that you see and know and regard my estate, that controls. It is the knowing that You shed Your blood, for my sins. My sins. My numerous, numerous sins. Regard: specific consideration. You consider my helplessness. My need, for your sacrifice. My inability to ever pay the debt that I owe. And, this is blessed assurance. This is confidence. God, please. Grant me the grace of confidence, that I am yours.

My sin—oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!—
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. 2 Corinthians 5:21

For our sake. For our sake. For my sake. Not His. He became sin who knew no sin. He didn’t just “experience” sin, He became sin. A willful obedience, a willful choice, so that we might become a righteousness that we could never have known on our own, apart from Him. This is too much, too much to comprehend God, that your forgiveness comes with the grace-soaked righteousness that belongs to you. My sin, not in part. The whole. The entire ugly, hideous whole. Nailed. How can it be?

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

God, you say “Shhh” to my soul. You whisper peace to my soul. Yes, in death, surely, but also in life. Today, even. You settle my soul. Thou wilt whisper “Shhh” and I will settle and Your peace will consume. Please settle my soul. Tonight. Now. For me, be it Christ. Be it Christ, hence to live.

But, Lord, ’tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul!

We are waiting. For your return. I fear not the grave, for the grave is not my goal. Home. That is it. To sit, at your feet. To know assurance of Your forgiveness and salvation beyond any level of assurance we will know in this world. That is the hope, that is blessed. That is the rest, that is blessed.

And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

Haste the day, o God. Haste the day, when this floundering, shaky, tinged-with-doubt, cynical, kernel of faith, becomes sight. Sight that replaces the shakiness with solid steadiness. When any vestiges of doubt are decimated. Even so, come quickly. Even so, it is well, with my soul. Even so, come quickly, Amen.

Unto the Lamb – The Object of Our Longings

May 17, 2015 By Shelly Durkee

My mind often turns to the idea of Home…..of heaven, whatever that will look like.

But often, for very selfish reasons. Self-serving reasons. A longing for rest. A yearning for a life without sin which so easily tangles. A desire for all that is wrong to be made right. A hope for a settled-ness that endures–a mind that is settled, a soul that is settled. No more grief. No more capacity to do wrong, to sin, to hurt others.

My motives, as always, are skewed incorrectly, because far too often, these longings become the focus of my hope, and not the one who is the object of my hope..

Not that the things listed above are wrong desires and longings. They aren’t–as long as they do not overshadow the One who is the very source of all of those longings.

Sometimes, I forget that the chief aim of the eternal life that salvation grants, is the “joy of self-forgetfulness” and the awe of no longer seeing as though through a mirror dimly, but seeing Christ face-to-face:

For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. 1 Cor. 13:12

I am, so very selfish. Self-Centered. Even, sometimes, in my longings for home.

Interrupted sleep has characterized this night, and with the interruption has come thoughts of home. Strong yearnings for home. But maybe now, after some study over the past hour or so, there is perhaps an all-too-often absent focus of those thoughts and longings.

O, all the same thoughts are there–the same yearnings, the same desires. I don’t think those will ever disappear; nor do I think that they necessarily should. There lies hope in those desires. Proverbs 13:12 tells us that “Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.” There is life–eternal life–in the fulfillment of that hope which will come when home is realized.

But it is the object of that hope which creates the joy that home will bring. It is the sitting at the feet of Jesus in worship, that creates the very fulfillment of all the things longed for in going home. The settledness. The peace. The absence of ability to sin. The absence of grief. The righting of all things wrong. All of these are only possible through the object of our worship. And the object of our worship–the lamb of God, the perfect sacrifice–is the chief aim. These other aims, these other desires, though good, should be secondary. Are secondary.

I’m not sure that I always grasp that, in my sinful selfishness. But I need to. More. And more.

Earlier tonight, before interrupted sleep, I came across one of the best articles I have ever read, on corporate worship, though I don’t think I fully grasped what it was saying until sleep was interrupted, and the longings for home overwhelmed. Located at the Desiring God website and written by David Mathis, I imagine it is an article that I will return to often. I urge you to read it; your time will not be wasted in doing so. While the focus of the article is corporate worship within our churches, and how worshipping together with fellow Christ-followers is a means of grace, his words also seem to point toward corporate worship together–not alone, as I so often imagine it–at the throne of Jesus, once the old earth has gone and the new has been established–once we go home.

In particular, this paragraph right here, is not nothing:

The answer is that our focus should not be self-consciously preoccupied with how we’re being strengthened or what grace we’re receiving. Rather, our focus together is the crucified and risen Christ, and the incomparable excellencies of his person and work. Which illumines all the various spiritual disciplines. Corporate worship is a means of grace not when we’re caught up with what we’re doing, but when we experience the secret of worship — the joy of self-forgetfulness — as we become preoccupied together with Jesus and his manifold perfections.

No, the longings and desires for what home will bring do not change. I know, for my own soul, those longings are deep. So deep. But maybe my focus–and yours, and ours as a corporate family of Christ-followers–needs to shift more to the “crucified and risen Christ, and the incomparable excellencies of his person and work”, far above what we gain and receive in the fulfillment of our hopes and longings.

Or, to put it another way, I, and we, need a fresh realization that He is our hope. He is what we desire. He is what we long for. And, in Him, these things are found. They are by-products of the very grace that He is.

“To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
be blessing and honor and glory and might forever and ever!”

“Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord God Almighty,
who was and is and is to come!”