The days are long, but the years are short.
If you’re a parent of little ones (or medium ones or big ones), this proverbial nugget has likely resonated in your soul a time or two (or perhaps a hundred times or a thousand bajillion times).
Time can drag on. When the days are full of poop and meltdowns and play dates and a myriad of activities, sleepless nights and discipline, they can feel long.
Yet simultaneously, time is so fleeting. You blink and your toddler is starting preschool. Or your son is getting married. Or your kids are having kids of their own.
For me, it’s strange how the presence of grief has altered my perspective of time.
Lately the long days feel especially long as we adjust to our growing family and figure out how it all fits in with my ever-present, ever-evolving grief. I miss Evelyn all the time, without end. Adding another precious child into our lives has certainly increased our joy, but it hasn’t diminished the ache of our loss. Heaven can feel so far away as the pang of Evelyn’s memory hangs heavy in my soul while I wait.
I was reading in 1 Peter this morning (while everyone in the house was miraculously sleeping at the same time), and if scripture could speak audibly, then that’s what it did…
3 Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, 4 and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, 5 who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. 6 In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. 7 These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. 8 Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, 9 for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls.
It seems almost unnecessary to expound on such a rich passage. It stands on its own with so much power. But here are my reflections anyway.
“Though for a little while…”
I’ll tell you what – the particular trial of losing Evelyn doesn’t feel like it’s only lasting for a little while. It has touched every aspect of my life and there are constant reminders throughout my days. Some of them hide in the corners of my daily routine, waiting to jump out when I least expect it. Others just hover in front of me all the time. It often feels like there will be no end.
My perspective of time must be altered.
Because God promises that there is an end. And everything that I’m feeling right now – the pain, the sadness, the long suffering, the waiting – it will seem like it only lasted a little while when compared to the eternal reality of heaven.
So on the really long days, I can trust by faith that it’s only a drop in the bucket when measured against eternity. This isn’t meant to diminish the trial. Not at all. Rather, I think it’s meant to give courage and hope to push through the trial while holding onto God’s loving hand as he leads me to a perfect forever.
“In all this you greatly rejoice…”
There are so many reasons to be sad. But there are an infinite number of reasons to rejoice. Can I get an amen? The rejoicing doesn’t eliminate the sadness. Not by any means. But it provides fuel to keep living, to fight against despair.
I rejoice because Jesus hasn’t wasted Evelyn’s life. He continues to use her brief appearance on this earth to inspire others toward hope and courage in the midst of their own difficulties.
I rejoice because when I surrender it all to Jesus, he miraculously takes the worst parts of my story and touches them with his grace so that they become the impetus for the best parts of my story.
I rejoice because Jesus has loved me with an everlasting love, and he has sought me out to rescue me from my sin and my trials, so that I can be filled with an inexpressible joy as I wait for my own climactic entrance into heaven.
“Though you have not seen him, you love him…”
Speaking of heaven, I can’t wait to see my daughter again. I can’t wait to see what she looks like as a healthy girl. I can’t wait to hug her and kiss her. I can’t wait to hear her voice. I think we’ll play and laugh a lot. My little Evelyn is a big reason that I long for heaven. I love her with a mother’s love that knows no end even though she’s physically not with me now.
But as much as I love my daughter (and all of my children, for that matter), the one love that dominates my soul is Jesus. I love him so much. He’s the one that gave me this living hope, this inheritance, this faith, this salvation. I can’t wait to see him face to face. I think I’ll hug him because I’m certain he loves hugs. And I wonder if I’ll weep into his shoulder? Not sad tears. Because there’s no sadness in heaven. But visceral tears of deep relief – the ones that come when you’re so overwhelmed that they involuntarily pour from your eyes with no ability to stop them. The tears that feel like your eyes are sighing. It will be amazing when my faith becomes sight.
I don’t know who will read this. Other than my mom, of course. (Hi Mom!) But I’m assured that every set of eyes that scans these words is facing some kind of trial. Or trials. They are as vast and various as the people experiencing them. It’s my prayer that God will shield you. I pray that he will fill you with the inexpressible joy that is ours in Christ (which, by the way, is a complete mystery to me that a heart can inhabit joy and grief at the same time). I pray that he will strengthen your faith as you embrace the living hope that exists because Jesus rolled the stone away.
In conclusion, here’s an extremely low-quality video of pastor Francis Chan emphasizing the magnitude of eternity compared to our few short years on earth.
May it give us a proper perspective of time, so that we can keep our eyes fixed on Jesus as we navigate the joy and pain of this life. The trials won’t last forever, my friends. But heaven will. So take heart.