Packed Up and Ready to Go (#33)
[A note from our Managing Editor: Tim Shorey, pastor and author, is one of our Gospel-Centered Discipleship staff writers. Tim is also currently battling stage 4 prostate cancer. On Facebook and CaringBridge, he’s writing about his journey. We’re including some of his posts in a series on our website called “The Potter’s Clay: Faith Reflections from a Cancer Oven.” To preserve the feel of a daily journal rather than a published work, we have chosen not to submit these reflections to a rigorous editing process.]
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I do not post the following thoughts on readiness to die to give the impression that I am near death. Please do not suspect any such thing. As best I know, I’ve still got some life in me and some work to do. True, I’ve got cancer (my cancer number has risen of late), and my body feels like it’s turning against me, leaving me tired and hurting all over. But that’s not why I post the following. I post it because recently, a good friend and I were talking about life and death and heaven in order to encourage each other in the promises of God.
An All-too-Rare Conversation
This was one of those very occasional moments when we simply talked about heaven with joyful anticipation and wonder. It wasn’t a passing reference to the life to come; it was a shared meditation on the glories and joys that are awaiting all those of us who believe. But as we shared, I realized that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had such a conversation.
I knew in the moment that such reflections are, in fact, all-too-rare. This was a reminder to me that too much of my time, energy, thought, and conversation are focused on transient life under the sun, and on its light, momentary afflictions. Meanwhile, not enough time and energy are spent in consideration of the eternal glories that are to come; glories that shall be revealed in us and to us (2 Cor. 4:17–18; Rom. 8:18–19; 1 Pet. 1:3–7; 1 John 3:1–3).
Learning from the Past
It has not always been this way for believers. In past times, heaven was much on the mind of the saints, and we must learn from that past. Prior Christians thought about heaven, and longed for it and lived for it—in ways that I am quite sure we rarely do in these troubled times. But maybe our troubled times are just what we need to revive and fuel our anticipation and hope for the dawning of the new Day.
The conversation my friend and I enjoyed brought to mind the following words, written by the well-known Bible theologian, J.I. Packer. I first read these paragraphs about 40 years ago when I was around 27. And I am here to say that in that moment and ever since, they have had a conscious and lasting life-shaping impact on me. The only difference between me when I first read Dr. Packer’s words, and when I read them now, is that death is a lot nearer to me now than it was then. But I assure you, these are words worth reading, whether we are 16, 60, or 86.
Dr. Packer writes,
“The Puritans experienced systematic persecution for their faith; what we think of as the comforts of home were unknown to them... They had no aspirin or tranquilizers... just as they had no social security or insurance. In a world in which more than half the adult population died young and more than half the children born died in infancy, disease, distress, discomfort, pain and death were their constant companions. They would have been lost had they not kept their eyes on heaven and known themselves as pilgrims traveling home to the Celestial City…
“…[W]hen a man knows that he is going to be hanged in a fortnight [i.e., two weeks] it concentrates his mind wonderfully, and in the same way the Puritans’ awareness that in the midst of life we are in death . . . gave them a deep seriousness, calm yet passionate, with regard to the business of living that Christians in today’s opulent, mollycoddled, earthbound Western world rarely manage to match.
“Few of us, I think, live daily on the edge of eternity in the conscious way that the Puritans did, and we lose out as a result. For the extraordinary vivacity…with which the Puritans lived stemmed, I believe, from the unflinching, matter-of-fact realism with which they prepared themselves for death, so as always to be found, as it were, packed up and ready to go. Reckoning with death brought appreciation of each day’s continued life. And the knowledge that God would eventually decide, without consulting them, when their work on earth was done brought energy for the work itself while they were still being given time to get on with it” (J.I. Packer, A Quest for Godliness).
To Live is Christ, to Die Is Gain
I am eternally indebted to Dr. Packer for these life-altering words. Truly, I cannot say Amen loudly enough. As someone (whose name I cannot remember) has said, “He who is not prepared to die is not ready to live.” So I have taken these words to heart, and have long tried to be emotionally and genuinely packed up and ready to go.
This in no way suggests that I was or am depressed. I am not depressed. For after all: “to live is Christ” (Phil. 1:21); which means that to live is to happily occupy this beautiful world that Jesus Christ has made, and it is to trust, love, serve, proclaim, be fruitful for, suffer with, and be increasingly like Christ until Heaven dawns. And there’s nothing depressing in any of that!
But as Paul adds: “to die is gain.” And why? Because when we depart this finite world, we see the face of God and the beloved Savior of our souls; there to live with him in endless ages of sinless joy. And that, my dear friends, is far better than anything this transient world and mortal flesh have to offer (Phil. 1:21, 23; 2 Cor. 5:6–8).
So we would do well to cast our eye Heavenward far more often than we typically have done. Without checking out or getting spiritually lazy in the here-and-now work of the kingdom, let’s be packed up and ready to go—with our hand on the plow while our eyes are on the sky.
In this I am reminded of my dad. To keep his heart fixed on Heaven, he often used to say goodbye to believing friends (even if the separation was long-term or permanent), with these additional words: “I’ll see you in the Morning.”
Indeed, Christian friends: in light of the coming eternal Dawn, so will we all!
* You can read all the posts in this series here.