I sit down to write this Jym Shorts article about three-weeks prior to its being published. My first two weeks of January will consist of me sitting through eight hours of seminary classes each day as I continue work on my doctorate degree in theology/apologetics, therefore I need to work ahead in order to be away from the church during that time.
It was a “happy hectic” Christmas season for my family. With Christmas and New Year’s falling on Sundays in 2016, we had quite a bit of unusual activity for the end of the year. I write this anticipating that getting “back into the groove” will be more challenging for me in 2017 than it usually is since I start the year away from the office and I prepare to say goodbye to my daughter, son-in-law, and new grandson as they head to the mission field. Those goodbyes will be followed upon closely by Jordan, our youngest, heading back to school, making Dedra and me officially “empty-nesters.”
I have always been a fairly sentimental guy, but that soft-heartedness was compounded dramatically with the births of our daughters. I loved raising them, spending time with them, and leading them in their relationships with the Lord. They are both adults now, and although I look forward to moving into my twilight years with Dedra, whom I love more today than I did almost 28 years ago when we married, I know that January will be a difficult month for me. I don’t write this looking for sympathy, most of us go through these stages in life, but I know that this transition will be different than all of the others I have navigated through in the past.
As I reflect upon these matters, I suspect my sentimentality derives in part from being the youngest child in a large family and seeing my older siblings come for visits and then seeing them leave again. I loved having family return to our big turn-of-the-century home for the holidays, and can remember being sad even when they arrived, knowing they would soon head back to their own homes. Regardless of its origin, that soft-heartedness has served me well in ministry, making it easy for me to love and shepherd people. But it hasn’t always been that way. As a police officer in my early twenties, it didn’t take me long to realize I did not have the emotional fortitude to constantly encounter people who did not want to encounter me. It seems that every time I arrested someone, it put a damper on our conversation. : ) And as a missionary, although I loved serving the Lord overseas, I never really got over missing loved ones back in the States. So I guess it is fair to say – gee whiz – that I am a bit of a softy, and that will become more obvious as Dedra and I move into a new era in our lives.
All of this makes me reflect upon one of the things I most look forward to in heaven – no more goodbyes. Or, at least, not the type of goodbyes we experience on this side of the grave. I realize that as a pastor I should say that all I want to do in heaven is see Jesus. To be honest, that is true for me too. The more I have come to know the Lord through my walk with him, the more I want to spend eternity with him. But reality is just that – reality. I do not fully comprehend what standing in his presence will mean to me. I look forward to it, but I have little in my experience by which to gauge that moment. I do, however, fully understand what it means to lose loved ones and say goodbye as a human being. I have a lifetime of experiences with which to gauge those emotions, and I would prefer not to have to do that anymore.
As I read Jesus’ high priestly prayer in John 17, when he was experiencing a huge range of emotions on that last evening of his life, I hear a tinge of that desire in him as well. He prays for his disciples, those whom he has loved fiercely and will now be leaving, and I can sense his dislike for the fact that goodbyes are inevitable, and painful, in human experience. He knows that will not always be the case, and I know that too based on what the Scriptures teach me, but, like Jesus, I still prefer not to endure them.
And so, if the Lord chooses to let me live to the point when this article is published in 2017, I know I will enter the new year full of hope and anticipation for what the future holds, while mourning a bit for what has passed. That’s okay, we are moving toward the consummation of all things, when goodbyes become a vestige of our past, and no longer a part of our everlasting future. My sadness is buoyed by knowing that I have the pleasure and privilege of serving as one of your pastors, about which I am also a bit sentimental, but that’s enough about that for now…
Grace and peace,
Pastor Jym