<</div>God May Be Holding the Clipboard, But Jesus is Helping Me Move
Turn! Turn! Turn!- Pete Seeger, 1959
"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven."- The Teacher (Ecclesiastes 3:1 NIV)
As if it was last week, I remember sitting on the floor with my little boy. Together we rolled out a colorful neighborhood, bordered by the stitching of its area-rug foundation but limited only by our imaginations. Diminutive dollops of green paint stood in for real trees, providing shade for the tiny houses. Dotted yellow lines defined the friendly streets. Downtown, the police station faced the elementary school, a sensible precaution. The town exuded order and peace, promising residents a quiet and carefree life. Only the bold red stripes of the hospital's Emergency Entrance hinted of excitement and attitude: "No Parking Here!" they shouted. However, chances were slim that anyone in this perfect little burg would require their services.
Digging through our toys, we selected a moving van and some dinky plastic people who were ready for the cross-town trip to a bigger house. Everything was going smoothly until the ponderous truck tipped over and dumped its imaginary load onto the courthouse steps. Oh no! If that's not good for a trip to the ER, I don't know what is. Thankfully, no harm was done- we just shoved those folks right back into the cab and off they went. Within minutes the happy family was safely ensconced in their new home. Far and away, this was the easiest move I ever made.
In real life, I hate moving.
I hate the packing, the cleaning, the paperwork, and the back-breaking labor of carrying an endless parade of boxes up and down the stairs. I hate being unable to locate my frying pan and my spatula on the same day. I hate having my mail disappear into the Postal Service's Never-Never Land, not knowing if the new residents in my old abode tossed it or it ended up in the aptly-named Terminal Annex. Though it's been six years since we moved, I'm holding out hope for a missing invitation. Or two.
Sometimes, I hate saying goodbye to the life I lived in that residence. Six years ago, we left behind the house where our daughter Catherine lived most of her life. She died in an accident just a few days into the new millennium at the age of fourteen. That season of my life passed with a quiet beauty and sorrow, reminiscent of leaves dropping silently in the soft light of late September. Inevitable, but sad just the same.
On the other hand, there are things I love about moving.
I love de-cluttering my life and throwing stuff away as I pack. I love the adventure of searching for a new residence with its myriad of mysteries. What are the neighbors like? What kind of birds fly in for the summer? Does the wind blow like a bad day in Wyoming ALL the time? How much snow will we get? What kind of flowers will come up in the spring? What time does the mail come? (Yoo-hoo: I'm over here now!)
What kind of memories will be build in our new home?
Is there any comfort to be had in the midst of upheaval?
What would The Teacher have to say about that great constant of earthly life, Change?
Due to its timeless popularity, I've hesitated to launch a discussion on this well-known passage of Ecclesiastes. What can I say that hasn't been said? Children of the 1950's and 60's unknowingly memorized Scripture by singing along with a rock band called The Byrds. Millions of words over the last 2500 years have been devoted to this single section of text, with good reason. Its popularity stems from a truth that resonates in every human heart. In our earthly existence, change is inevitable. Though we have limited control over some of our transitions, we are at the mercy of God.
The Teacher used his considerable resources to explore the meaning of life. His tears, toil, and pain spilled out across the pages as a gift to all who were still to come. He left this earth to meet the God he viewed as inscrutable and slightly detached, and was no doubt astonished to meet Jesus Christ, who is neither.
The best of both worlds is ours for the taking. We can suck into our souls the ancient wisdom of this timeless poem, use it to understand our earthly circumstances, and allow it to serve as the springboard from which we leap with our fear and futility, anger and angst, into the arms of Jesus. We are not stuck in a pre-Messiah world with no hope for the future. We are invited onto the grounds of the Kingdom of Heaven. Come with me as we explore the dichotomies endemic to all humanity, and exercise the magnificent privilege of viewing our "light and momentary troubles" through the eternal perspective of Jesus Christ. He is our comfort today and our hope for tomorrow.
As God looks down on me from heaven, my life bears little resemblance to that tiny town of perfect plastic people, manipulated by a young mom on the floor with her toddler son. My life is just like everyone else's: a messy mix of beginnings and endings, sorrows and joys, triumphs and tribulations. But unlike The Teacher, my understanding of God comes from looking into the face of Jesus Christ, who says these words:
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." -Jesus Christ (Matthew 11:28-30 NIV)
Posted by Rachel Ophoff at 7/16/2010 3:11 PM 
Categories: Death of a Child, God, Faith, Surrender, Christian Writer, Hope, Trust, Christian Blogger, Acceptance
Tags: Change Faith God Gods Plan Jesus Ecclesiates 3
Categories: Death of a Child, God, Faith, Surrender, Christian Writer, Hope, Trust, Christian Blogger, Acceptance
Tags: Change Faith God Gods Plan Jesus Ecclesiates 3
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