Backward

Backward - Audio/Visual

Backward

Therefore, my dear friends, as you have always obeyed — not only in my presence, but now much more in my absence — continue to work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for God is working in you, giving you the desire and power to do what pleases him. (Phil. 2:12-13)

Every so often we find ourselves riding the flow of life. Not resisting or thrashing it; just riding it. A stronger current lifts, channels and carries, daring us to declare, "I was made to do this." Do you know the flow? Sure you do. Go back to your youth. What activity lured you off the gray sidewalk of sameness into an amusement park of sights, sounds and colors? What were you doing? Assembling a model airplane in the garage? Helping your aunt plant seeds in the garden? Organizing games for your playground buddies? To this day you can remember the details of those days: the smell of cement glue, the feel of moist dirt, the squeals of excited kids. Magical. The only bad moment was the final moment.

Fast-forward a few years. Let childhood become adolescence, elementary school become middle school, and then high school. Reflect on your favorite memories: those full-flight moments of un-clocked time and unlocked energy. All cylinders clicking. Again, what were you doing? What energized you? Engaged you? Now, analyze your best days as a young adult. No upstream flailing. No battling against the current. During the times you rode the tide, what activities carried you? What objects did you hold? What topics did you consider? Any common themes? To be sure, the scenery changes and certain characters drop out of the picture. The details may alter, but your bent, your passion, what you yearn to do, you keep doing. And why not? It comes easily to you. Not necessarily without a struggle, but with less struggle than your peers.

Do you want direction for the future? Then read your life backward. Job-placement consultants at People Management International Inc. have asked over seventy thousand clients this question: What things have you done in life that you enjoyed doing and believe you did well? "In every case," writes founder Arthur Miller Jr., "the data showed that people had invariably reverted to the same pattern of functioning whenever they had done something they enjoyed doing and did well." Or, to put it succinctly, our past presents our future. Wait. Can that really be true? Can childhood interests forecast adult abilities? Can early leanings serve as first sketches of the final portrait? The biographies of spiritual heroes suggest so. Start with an Egyptian prince.

As a young man he excelled in the ways of the court. He mastered the laws of the ancient land. He studied at the feet of the world's finest astronomers, mathematicians and lawyers. Fifteen hundred years later he was remembered as "learned in all the wisdom of the Egyptians, and . . . mighty in words and deeds." (Acts 7:22) What little we know of Moses' upbringing tells us this: he displayed an affinity for higher learning and an allergy to injustice. Remember his first adult appearance in Scripture? He saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew slave and killed the Egyptian. The next day Moses saw two Hebrews fighting and intervened again. This time one of the Hebrews asked, "Who made you a prince and a judge over us?" (Exod. 2:14) “A prince and a judge.” How accurate is that description? Turn to the second act.

To avoid arrest, Moses scampered into the badlands, where he encountered more injustice. "Now the priest of Midian had seven daughters. And they came and drew water, and they filled the troughs to water their father's flock. Then the shepherds came and drove them away; but Moses stood up and helped them, and watered their flock." (Exod. 2:16-17) What drove Moses to protect these young women? Their beauty? His thirst? Maybe both, or maybe more. Maybe irrepressible seeds of fairness grew in his soul. When he decked a cruel Egyptian or scattered chauvinistic shepherds, was he acting out his God-given bent toward justice? The rest of his life would say so.

Forty years after he fled Egypt, Moses returned, this time with God's burning-bush blessing and power. He dismantled Pharaoh and unshackled the Hebrews. Moses “the prince” escorted his people into a new kingdom. Moses “the judge” framed the Torah and mid-wifed the Hebrew law. The strengths of his youth unveiled the passions of his life.

Fast-forward nearly two millennia and consider another case. Like Moses, this young scholar displayed a youthful love of the law. He studied at the feet of Jerusalem's finest teachers. He followed the Torah with razor-sharp precision. He aligned himself with the Pharisees, who were ardent observers of Scripture. They defended the law with zeal. And "zeal" is the term he used to describe his youth. "Zealous?" he wrote. "Yes, in fact, I harshly persecuted the church." (Phil. 3:6) Young Saul's ardor prompted his initial appearance in Scripture. And just like Moses, a murder brought him onto the stage. Angry members of the Jewish council "cast [Stephen] out of the city and stoned him. And the witnesses laid down their clothes at the feet of a young man named Saul." (Acts 7:58)

Call Saul misguided, misled or even mistaken – but don't call Saul mild. If you scratched him, he bled commitment. Whether he was Saul, the legalist, or Paul, the apostle of grace, he couldn't sit still. Cause-driven. Single-minded. Focused like a hawk on its prey. Peter might tolerate the hypocrisy of the church, but not Paul. With him, you were either in or out, hot or cold. Whether persecuting disciples or making them, Paul impacted people. An early strength forecast his life-long trait. One more example.

Consider the younger days of Billy Frank, the elder son of a dairy farmer. His dad rousted him out of bed around two thirty each morning to perform chores. Younger brother Melvin relished the work, tagging along at his father's side, eager to take his turn long before he was able. But not Billy Frank. He and Melvin had the same father, but not the same passion. The minute he finished his chores, Billy Frank dashed into the hayloft with a copy of Tarzan or maybe Marco Polo. By the age of fourteen, he had traced The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. Missionary stories and accounts of brave servants in faraway lands fascinated the boy most of all. Later, as a college student at Florida Bible Institute, he visited with every evangelist who gave him time. He served their tables, polished their shoes, caddied for them, carried their luggage, posed to have his picture taken with them, and wrote home to tell his mother how much he "longed to be like this one or that one."

Billy Frank bore one more trademark: energy. His mother remembered, "There was never any quietness about Billy. . . . I was relieved when he started school." He was hyperactive before the term existed. Always running, inquiring, questioning. "He never wears down," his parents told the doctor. "It's just the way he's built," the doctor assured them.

So, study Billy Frank's mosaic: fascinated with books and words, intrigued by missionaries and faraway lands, blessed with boundless energy . . . . What happens with a boy like that? And what happens when God's Spirit convinces him of sin and salvation? Young Billy Frank decided to drop his middle name and go by just his first and last. After all, an evangelist needs to be taken seriously. And people took Billy Frank Graham very seriously.

What if Graham had ignored his heart? What if his parents had forced him to stay on the farm? What if no one had noticed God's pattern in his life? And what if you fail to notice yours? Remember, God planned and packed you on purpose for his purpose. "It is God himself who has made us what we are and given us new lives from Christ Jesus; and long ages ago he planned that we should spend these lives in helping others." (Eph. 2:10) You are heaven's custom design. God determined your every detail. "Who made a person's mouth? And who makes someone deaf . . . ? Or who gives a person sight or blindness? It is I, the LORD." (Exod. 4:11) And since you are God's idea, you are a good idea. What God said about Jeremiah, he said about you: "Before I made you in your mother's womb, I chose you. Before you were born, I set you apart for a special work." (Jer. 1:5)

God shaped you according to your special work. How else can you explain yourself? Your ability to diagnose an engine problem by the noise it makes, or to bake a cake without a recipe. You knew the Civil War better than your history teacher. How do you explain such quirks of skill? God knew young Israel would need a code, so he gave Moses a love for the law. He knew the doctrine of grace would need a fiery advocate, so he set Paul ablaze. And in your case, he knew what your generation would need and gave it – He designed you. And his design defines your destiny. Remember Peter's admonition? "If anyone ministers, let him do it as with the ability which God supplies." (1 Pet. 4:11)

What have you always done well? And what have you always loved to do? That last question trips up a lot of well-meaning folks. “God wouldn't let me do what I like to do – would he?” According to Paul, he would – “God is working in you to help you want to do and be able to do what pleases him." (Phil. 2:13) Your Designer couples the "want to" with the "be able to." Desire shares the driver's seat with ability. "Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart." (Ps. 37:4) Your Father is too gracious to assign you to a life of misery. See your desires as gifts to use rather than longings to suppress. So go ahead; reflect on your life. What have you always done well and loved to do? 

Some find that question too simple. Don't we need to measure something? Aptitude or temperament? We consult teachers and tea leaves, read manuals and horoscopes. We inventory spiritual gifts and ancestors. While some of these strategies might aid us, a simpler answer lies before us. Or perhaps better stated, lies within us. Read your life backward and check your supplies. Re-relish your moments of success and satisfaction. For in the merger of the two, you will find your uniqueness.

Grace,

Randy

You-nique

You-nique - Audio/Visual

You-nique

He has filled them with skill to do all kinds of work as engravers, designers, embroiderers in blue, purple and scarlet yarn and fine linen, and weavers—all of them skilled workers and designers. (Exodus 35:35)

You were born pre-packed. God looked at your entire life, determined your assignment, and gave you the tools to do the job. Does that surprise you? But don’t you do the same thing before going on a trip? You consider the demands of the journey and you pack accordingly. Cold weather? Bring a jacket. Business meeting? Carry the laptop. Time with grandchildren? Pack the track shoes. And God has done the same with you. John will research animals . . . install curiosity. Sally will lead a private school . . . add an extra dose of management. I need Jim to comfort the sick . . . include a healthy share of compassion. "Each of us is an original," Paul said to the Galatian Christians. (Gal. 5:26 - MSG) God packed you on purpose for a purpose. And if that’s news to you, maybe you’re living out of the wrong bag.

I once grabbed the wrong bag at the airport. The luggage looked like mine. Same size. Same material. Same color. Thrilled that it had emerged early from the baggage catacombs, I yanked it off the carousel and headed for the hotel. One glance inside, however, and I knew I'd made a mistake. Wrong size, style and . . . gender. What would you do if that happened to you? You could make do with what you had, I guess; cram your body into the tight clothes, deck out in other-gender jewelry, and head out for your appointments. But would you? Probably not. You'd likely hunt down your own bag, instead. Issue an all-points bulletin; call the airport; call the airlines; call the taxi service; call the FBI. You'd try every possible way to find the person who can't find her suitcase and is wondering what kind of idiot would fail to check the nametag. No one wants to live out of someone else's bag. Then why do we?

Odds are someone has urged a force fit into clothes not packed for you. Parents do. The dad puts an arm around his young son’s shoulder and says, "Your great-grandfather was a farmer. Your grandfather was a farmer. I'm a farmer. And you, my son, will someday inherit the farm." A teacher might. She warns the young girl who wants to be a stay-at-home mom, "Don't squander your skills. With your gifts you could make it to the top. The professional world is the way to go." Church leaders assign luggage from the pulpit, too. "God seeks world-changing, globetrotting missionaries. Jesus was a missionary. So, do you want to please your Maker? Follow him into the holy vocation. Spend your life on foreign soil." Sound counsel or poor advice? That depends on what God packed in the person's bag.

An inherited farm blesses the individualist and physically active. But what if God fashioned the farmer's son with a passion for literature or medicine? Work outside the home might be a great choice for some, but what if God gave the girl a singular passion for kids and homemaking? Those wired to learn languages and blaze trails should listen carefully to sermons encouraging missionary service. But if foreign cultures frustrate you, while predictability invigorates you, would you be happy as a missionary? No, and you’d end up contributing to some worrisome statistics – seven out of ten people are neither motivated nor competent to perform the basics of their job, and 43% of employees feel anger toward their employer often, or very often as a result of feeling overworked. Feel the force of those figures.

You wonder why work-bound commuters seem so cranky? Fully 70% of us go to work without much enthusiasm or passion. So, if 70% of us dread Mondays, dream of Fridays, and slug through the rest of the week, is it any wonder that our relationships suffer? Our work suffers? Our health suffers? Those kinds of numbers qualify as an epidemic. An epidemic of commonness. It’s like someone sucked the sparkle out of our days, or the air out of the room. A stale fog has settled over our society. Week after week of energy-sapping sameness. Walls painted gray with routine. Commuters dragging their dread to the office. Buildings packed with people working to live rather than living to work. Boredom. Mediocrity. So what’s the cure? God's prescription begins with unpacking your bags.

You exited the womb uniquely equipped. David puts it this way: "My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." (Ps. 139:15-16) You just can’t be anything you want to be. But you can be everything God wants you to be. In the passage, David emphasizes the pronoun "you" as if to say "you, God, and you alone." "The secret place" suggests a hidden and safe place, concealed from intruders and evil. Just like an artist takes a canvas into a locked studio, so God took you into his hidden chamber where you were "woven together." Moses used the same word to describe the needlework of the tabernacle's inner curtains – stitched together by skillful hands for the highest purpose. (See Exod. 35:35; 36:8; 38:9)

The Master Weaver selected the threads of your temperament, the texture of your character, and the yarn of your personality – all before you were born. God didn’t drop you into the world utterly defenseless and empty-handed. You arrived fully equipped. "All (your) days (were) ordained,” as David says. The day of your birth and the day of your death. Days of difficulty and days of victory. What motivates you, what exhausts you . . . God authored, and authors it all. Other translations of this Psalm employ equally intriguing verbs: You . . . knit me together. (v. 13) I was sculpted from nothing into something. (v. 15) I was . . . intricately wrought – as if embroidered with various colors. (v. 15)

How would you answer this multiple-choice question? I am: (a) a coincidental collision of particles; (b) an accidental evolution of molecules; (c) random flotsam on the sea of life; or (d) "fearfully and wonderfully made." (v. 14) Don't dull your life by missing this point: you are more than statistical chance, more than a marriage of heredity and society, more than a confluence of inherited chromosomes and childhood trauma. Thanks to God, you have been "sculpted from nothing into something." (v. 15) Envision Rodin carving The Thinker out of a rock. The sculptor chisels away a chunk of stone, shapes the curve of a kneecap, sands the forehead . . . Now envision God doing the same: sculpting the way you are before you even were, engraving you with an eye for organization, or an ear for fine music, or a mind that understands quantum physics. He made you you-nique.

Secular thinking, as a whole, doesn't buy this. Secular society sees no author behind the book, no architect behind the house, no purpose behind or beyond life. It simply says, "You can be anything you want to be." Be a butcher if you want to, a sales rep if you like. Be an ambassador if you really care. You can be anything you want to be – if you work hard enough. But can you? If God didn't pack within you the meat sense of a butcher, the people skills of a salesperson, or the world vision of an ambassador, can you be one? An unhappy, dissatisfied one perhaps. But a fulfilled one? No.

Can an acorn become a rose, a whale fly like a bird, or lead become gold? No. You cannot be anything you want to be. But you can be everything God wants you to be. God never prefabs or mass-produces people. "I make all things new," he declares. (Rev. 21:5) He didn't hand you your grandfather's bag or your aunt's life; he personally and deliberately packed you. When you live out of the bag God gave, you discover an uncommon joy. One job-placement firm suggests that only 1 percent of its clients have made a serious study of their skills. Don't imitate their mistake. "Don't live carelessly, unthinkingly. Make sure you understand what the Master wants." (Eph. 5:17) You can do something no one else can do in a fashion that no one else can perform. Exploring and extracting your uniqueness is exciting, it honors God, and expands his kingdom. So "make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that." (Gal. 6:4) Charles Steinmetz did.

Charlie designed the generators that powered Henry Ford's first assembly lines in Dearborn, Michigan. Sometime after he retired, the generators stalled out, bringing the entire plant to a screeching halt. Ford's engineers couldn't find the problem, so Henry called his old friend, Charlie. Steinmetz fiddled with this gauge, jiggled that lever, tried this button, played with a few wires, and after a few hours threw the master switch. The motors kicked on, and the system returned to normal. Some days later Ford received a bill from Steinmetz for $10,000.00. Ford found the charge excessive and wrote his friend a note: "Charlie: It seems awfully steep, this $10,000, for a man who for just a little while tinkered around with a few motors." Steinmetz prepared a new, itemized bill and sent it back to Mr. Ford. "Henry: For tinkering around with motors, $10.00; for knowing where to tinker, $9,990.00." Ford paid the bill.

You tinker unlike anyone else. Explore and extract your tinker talent. A gift far greater than $10,000.00 awaits you. "Remember that the Lord will give a reward to everyone . . . for doing good." (Eph. 6:8) When you do the most with what you do best, you put a smile on God's face. And what could be better than that?

Grace,

Randy

Choose Wisely

Choose Wisely - Audio/Visual

Choose Wisely

There were also two criminals led out with Jesus to be put to death. When they came to a place called the Skull, the soldiers crucified Jesus and the criminals – one on his right and the other on his left …. One of the criminals on a cross began to shout insults at Jesus: “Aren’t you the Christ? Then save yourself and us.” But the other criminal stopped him and said, “You should fear God! You are getting the same punishment he is. We are punished justly, getting what we deserve for what we did. But this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus said to him, “I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:32-33, 39-43)

During the latter part of the 1800’s, Edwin Thomas had few professional rivals. Standing a modest 5’6”, but blessed with a huge baritone voice, he’s still considered by most theatrical historians as the greatest American actor, and the greatest Hamlet, of the 19^th century. Debuting in Richard III at the tender age of fifteen, he quickly established himself as a premier Shakespearean actor. When it came to performing tragedy on stage, Edwin Thomas was in a very select group. Unfortunately, when it came to experiencing tragedy in life, the same could be said as well.

Edwin had two brothers, John and Junius. Both were actors, although neither rose to Edwin’s fame and stature. But, in 1863, the three brothers decided to unite their talents and perform Julius Caesar. The fact that Edwin’s brother, John, took the role of Marc Antony was, perhaps, a harbinger of what awaited the nation some two years later. You see, John, who played the role of the assassin’s victim in Julius Caesar, is the same John who became the real-life assassin at Ford’s Theatre when, on a crisp April night in 1865, he quietly stole into the rear of the State Box in Washington’s Ford Theatre and fired a bullet at the head of Abraham Lincoln. Yes, the last name of the brothers was Booth – Edwin Thomas Booth and John Wilkes Booth.

Edwin was never the same after that fateful night. Shame from his brother’s crime drove him into an early retirement. And he might never have returned to the stage had it not been for a strange twist of fate at a Jersey City train station. Edwin was waiting for his train when a well-dressed young man, jostled by the crowd, lost his balance and fell between the railroad platform and an approaching train. Without hesitation, Edwin locked a leg around a railing, grabbed the man by his collar, and snatched him to safety. After sighs of relief, the young man immediately recognized the famous face of Edwin Booth. Edwin, however, didn’t recognize the young man that he’d just rescued. That knowledge would come a few months later in a letter. The letter was from a friend of Edwin’s, Col. Adam Badeau, who was chief secretary to General Ulysses S. Grant. The letter was sent to thank Edwin for saving the life of the child of an American hero, Abraham Lincoln. How ironic that while one brother killed the President, the other brother saved the President’s son, Robert Todd Lincoln.

Edwin Thomas Booth and John Wilkes Booth. Same father, same mother, same upbringing, same education, same training, same profession, same passion. Yet, one chose life, while the other chose death. How could that happen? And although their story may seem rather dramatic, it’s not unique. For instance, Cain and Abel were both the sons of Adam and Eve, but Abel chose God and Cain chose murder – and God let him. Abraham and Lot were both pilgrims in Canaan, but Abraham chose God and Lot chose Sodom – and God let him. David and Saul were both kings of Israel, but David chose God while Saul chose power – and God let him. And Peter and Judas both denied their lord, but Peter sought mercy while Judas sought death – and God let him.

Ever thought about why there were two crosses next to Christ? I mean, why not six, or ten, or a dozen or more? And if you’ve actually thought about that, have you then ever wondered why Jesus was in the center? Why not on the far right or far left, instead? Maybe this is a stretch, but could it be that the crosses on either side of the savior symbolized God’s gift of choice? Because the two thieves had a lot in common, didn’t they? They were convicted by the same system; condemned to the same death; surrounded by the same crowd; and equally close to Jesus. In fact, they even began with the same sarcasm: “The two criminals also said cruel things to Jesus.” (Matt. 27:44) But then one of the thieves changed his tune, suggesting that they deserved to be punished, but not Jesus – he’d done nothing wrong.

A lot has been said over the years about the penitent thief. But what about the other guy? Wouldn’t a personal invitation have been appropriate? Wouldn’t a word of persuasion been timely, especially given the circumstances? Doesn’t the shepherd leave the ninety-nine sheep and pursue the one, lost sheep? And doesn’t the housewife sweep the house until the lost coin is found? Yes, the shepherd pursues and the housewife sweeps, but the father of the prodigal (the last “lost” parable in Jesus’ trilogy – Luke 15) does nothing. Why? Maybe it’s because the sheep was lost innocently, and the coin was lost irresponsibly. But the prodigal son? He left intentionally. The father had given his son the choice, and Jesus gave the criminals the same.

There are times in life when it feels like God has sent thunder to stir us up, or times when God showers us with his blessings to draw us to him. But then there’s those times when God sends nothing but silence as he honors us with the freedom to choose where we spend eternity. That’s an honor, because in so many areas of life we don’t have a choice, do we? For instance, we didn’t choose our gender, our siblings, our race, or our place of birth. And, let’s face it – sometimes that lack of choice is upsetting. “It’s not fair,” we say. It’s not fair that I was born in poverty, or that I sing poorly, or that I run so slowly. All that changed, however, in the Garden of Eden. Man made a choice. And it wasn’t for God. And, today, man is suffering the consequences of that choice. It’s called sin.

In the Hebrew Old Testament, the generic word for sin is het, which means to err, or to miss the mark. It doesn’t mean to do evil. The Greek word hamartia is usually translated as sin in the New Testament, and in classical Greek it means "to miss the mark," or "to miss the target." In the same way, we all sin. We all miss the target. (Rom. 3:23) We all miss the mark of God’s perfection. But we do have a choice in the matter, because we’ve all been given a life and allowed the opportunity to make our mark. And would you want it any other way?

Would you have preferred the opposite? You choose everything in this life, and God chooses where you spend the next? You choose the size of your nose, the color of your hair, your sex, your height, your weight, and God chooses where you spend eternity? Is that what you’d prefer? Granted, it would have been nice if God had let us order life like ordering a meal at a cafeteria. “I’ll take a scoop of good health and high IQ, please. No, I’ll pass on the music skills, but give me an extra helping of fast metabolism!” That would’ve been nice, but that’s not what happened. When it came to life on earth, you weren’t given a voice or even a vote, for that matter.

But when it comes to life after death, you do have a choice. And that seems like a pretty good deal because, in the final analysis, have we been given any greater privilege than that of choice? Not only does this privilege offset any injustice, but the gift of free will can offset any mistakes. For instance, think about the thief who repented. We don’t know a lot about him, but we know this: he made some pretty bad choices in life. He chose the wrong crowd, the wrong morals, and the wrong behavior. But would you consider his life a waste? Is he spending eternity reaping the fruit of all the bad choices he made? No, just the opposite. He’s enjoying the fruit of the one good choice he made. In the end, all of his bad choices were redeemed by one good choice.

We’ve all made bad choices in life. We’ve chosen the wrong friends, the wrong car, the wrong way, or maybe even the wrong career. We look back over the years of our life and say, “If only … if only I could make up for all of those bad choices.” Well, the good news is that you can. One good choice for eternity will offset a million bad ones made on earth. And the choice is yours to make.

How can two brothers be born of the same mother, grow up in the same home, and one chooses life while the other chooses death? I don’t know, but they did. Or, how could two men see the same Jesus and one choose to mock Him and the other choose to pray to him? I don’t know that either, but they did. But when one prayed, Jesus loved him enough to save him. And when the other mocked him, Jesus loved him enough to let him.

It’s your choice. Choose wisely.

Grace,

Randy

Great Day

Great Day

So I want to remind you, though you already know these things, that Jesus first rescued the nation of Israel from Egypt, but later he destroyed those who did not remain faithful. And I remind you of the angels who did not stay within the limits of authority God gave them but left the place where they belonged. God has kept them securely chained in prisons of darkness, waiting for the great Day of judgment. And don’t forget Sodom and Gomorrah and their neighboring towns, which were filled with immorality and every kind of sexual perversion. Those cities were destroyed by fire and serve as a warning of the eternal fire of God’s judgment. (Jude 5-7)

My dad, as part of his responsibilities at work, traveled quite a bit. Sometimes to Australia. Sometimes to Corcoran. And mom would use his coming home as both comfort and caution. In fact, she could do both with the same phrase. For instance, with soft assurance, "Your dad will be home soon," or with clenched teeth, "Your dad will be home soon." But whether it was assurances or warnings, mom made it clear: dad's coming would be a big deal. And it was. Dad's return changed everything.

The return of Christ will do likewise. Jude had a name for this event: "the great Day." (Jude 6) The great Day will be a normal day. People will drink coffee, endure traffic jams, laugh at jokes, and talk about the weather. “The Arrival of the Son of Man will take place in times like Noah's. Before the great flood everyone was carrying on as usual, having a good time right up to the day Noah boarded the ark. They knew nothing – until the flood hit and swept everything away. (Matt. 24:37-39)

The tourists on Thailand's coast come to mind. They spent the morning of December 26, 2004, applying suntan lotion and throwing beach balls, completely unaware that a tsunami-stirred wave was moving toward them at the speed of a jetliner. Christ's coming will be equally unexpected. Most people will be oblivious, playing on the beach. His shout, however, will get our attention. "For the Lord Himself will descend from heaven with a shout." (1 Thess. 4:16) Before we see angels, hear trumpets, or embrace our grandparents, we will be engulfed by Jesus' voice. John heard the voice of God and compared it to "the sound of many waters." (Revelation 1:15) Maybe you've stood at the base of a waterfall so loud and full of fury that you had to shout to be heard. Or maybe you've heard the roar of a lion. When the king of the beasts opens his mouth, every head in the jungle lifts up. The King of kings will prompt the same response: "The Lord will roar from on high." (Jeremiah 25:30)

Lazarus heard such a roar. His body was entombed and his soul was in paradise when Jesus shouted into both places: "[Jesus] cried with a loud voice, 'Lazarus, come forth!' And he who had died came out." (John 11:43-44) Expect the same shout and shaking of the corpses on the great Day. "The dead will hear the voice of the Son of God. . . . All who are . . . in their graves will hear his voice. Then they will come out." (John 5:25, 28-29) The shout of God will trigger the "voice of an archangel . . . with the trumpet of God." (1 Thess. 4:16) The archangel is the commanding officer. He will dispatch armies of angels to their greatest mission: to gather the children of God into one great assemblage.

Envision these silvered messengers spilling out of the heavens into the atmosphere. You could more quickly count the winter snowflakes than you will be able to number these hosts. Jude announced that "the Lord is coming with thousands and thousands of holy angels to judge everyone." (verses 14-15) The population of God's armies was too high for John to count. He saw "ten thousand times ten thousand, and thousands of thousands." (Rev. 5:11) They minister to the saved and battle the devil. They keep you safe and clear your path. "He has put his angels in charge of you to watch over you wherever you go." (Psalm 91:11) And on the great Day, they will escort you into the skies, where you will meet God. "He'll dispatch the angels; they will pull in the chosen from the four winds, from pole to pole." (Mark 13:27) Whether you’re in Corcoran or paradise, if you're a follower of Jesus, you can count on an angelic chaperone into the greatest gathering in history.

We assume the demons will gather the rebellious. We aren't told. We are told, however, that the saved and lost alike will witness the assembly. "All the nations will be gathered before him." (Matthew 25:32) The Population Reference Bureau estimates that a little over 107 billion people have been born since the dawn of the human race. Every single one of them will stand in the great assembly of souls. He who made us will convene us. "The LORD, who scattered his people, will gather them." (Jeremiah 31:10) "All the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God." (Isaiah 52:10) At some point in this grand collection, our spirits will be reunited with our new bodies: “It will happen in a moment, in the blink of an eye, when the last trumpet is blown. For when the trumpet sounds, those who have died will be raised to live forever. And we who are living will also be transformed. For our dying bodies must be transformed into bodies that will never die; our mortal bodies must be transformed into immortal bodies.” (1 Cor. 15:52-53)

Paradise will give up her souls. The earth will give up her dead, and the sky will stage a reunion of spirit and flesh. As our souls reenter our bodies, a massive sound will erupt around us: "On that day heaven will pass away with a roaring sound. Everything that makes up the universe will burn and be destroyed. The earth and everything that people have done on it will be exposed." (2 Peter 3:10) Jesus called this "the re-creation of the world." (Matt. 19:28) God will purge every square inch that sin has contaminated, polluted, degraded or defiled. But we may not even notice the reconstruction, for an even greater sight will appear before us: "the Son of Man coming on the clouds in the sky with power and great glory." (Matthew 24:30) Note the preposition on. Subtle distinction. Great declaration. Every person, saint and sinner alike, will see Jesus. "All the nations will be gathered before him." (Matt. 25:32)

By this point we will have seen a lot: the flurry of angels, the ascension of the bodies, the great gathering of the nations. We will have heard a lot, too: the shout of God and the angel, the trumpet blast, and the purging explosion. But every sight and sound will seem a remote memory compared to what will happen next: "He will be King and sit on his great throne." (Matthew 25:31) This is the direction in which all of history is focused. This is the moment toward which God's plot is moving. The details, characters, antagonists, heroes, and subplots all arc in this direction. God's story carries us toward a coronation for which all creation groans: “For everything, absolutely everything, above and below, visible and invisible, rank after rank after rank of angels – everything got started in him and finds its purpose in him. . . . He was supreme in the beginning and – leading the resurrection parade – he is supreme in the end.” (Col. 1:16, 18)

God's creation will return to its beginning: a one-king kingdom. Our earth is plagued by multiple competing monarchs, each one of us climbing ladders and claiming thrones. But we will gladly remove our crowns when Christ comes back for us. During one of the crusades, Philippe Auguste, king of France, gathered his noble knights and men to call them to be strong in battle. He placed his crown on a table with the inscription "To the most worthy." He pledged the crown as the prize to be given to the bravest fighter. They went to battle and returned victorious and encircled the table on which the crown had been placed. One of the nobles stepped forward, took the crown, and put it on the head of the king, saying, "Thou, O King, art the most worthy."

On the great Day you'll hear billions of voices make the identical claim about Jesus Christ. "Every knee will bow to the name of Jesus – everyone in heaven, on earth, and under the earth. And everyone will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord." (Phil. 2:10-11) Multitudes of people will bow low like a field of windblown wheat, each one saying, "Thou, O King, art the most worthy." There will be one monumental difference, however. Some people will continue the confession they began on earth. They will crown Christ again. Gladly. Others will crown him for the first time. They will do so sadly. They denied Christ on earth, so he will deny them in heaven. But the saved will live with God forever. "I heard a voice thunder from the Throne: 'Look! Look! God has moved into the neighborhood, making his home with men and women! They're his people, he's their God.'" (Rev. 21:3) The narrator makes the same point four times in four consecutive phrases. The announcement comes with the energy of a six-year-old declaring the arrival of his dad from a long trip. "Dad's home! He's here! Mom, he's back!" One statement won't suffice. This is big news worthy of repetition. We shall finally see God face-to-face. "They will see his face." (Rev. 22:4) Let that sink in. You will see the face of God.

You will look into the eyes of the One who has always seen; you will behold the mouth that commands history. And if there is anything more amazing than the moment you see his face, it's the moment he touches yours. "He will wipe every tear from their eyes." (Rev. 21:4) God will touch your tears. Not flex his muscles or show off his power. Lesser kings would strut their stallions or give a victory speech. Not God. He prefers to rub a thumb across your cheek as if to say, "There, there . . . no more tears." Isn't that what a father does?

There was a lot I didn’t understand about my dad’s time away. The responsibilities of his job, his daily activities, the reason he needed to go. I was too young to comprehend all the details. But I knew this much: he would come home. By the same token, who can understand what God is doing? These days on earth can seem so difficult: marred by conflict, saddened by separation. We fight, pollute, discriminate, and kill. Societies suffer from innumerable fiefdoms, and small would-be dynasties. “What is this world coming to?” we wonder. God's answer: A great Day. And he, the Author of it all, will close the book on this life and open the book to the next, and begin to read to us from his unending story.

Grace,

Randy