Saturday, February 24, 2007

The Mornings After You Die

Silly me... I think I forgot to tell you that I'm dying... Self, that is. A slow, lingering death, actually.

Yep, I've been dying since 1994, the year I finally began allowing God to kill whole trash piles inside me. You know, those ugly, lopsided stacks of believing I know best... and speaking without thinking first... and being the grandest procrastinator upon Earth... and laziness, fearfulness, shyness... rebellion, discontentment and unforgiveness. You know, all that stuff which holds you down and back and makes God look bad if you're going around telling everyone you represent Him.

But oh, the mornings after you die! It's as though you awaken in Heaven on Earth and this world appears more God-made than man-made. Almost as though you've got this Garden of Eden thing going in the middle of a war zone (otherwise known as Life on This Planet).

You have time to gaze up at the sky and it appears bluer, even new... and there are more trees around than you remember having seen before. Your husband, somehow, has become the best man on Earth and it's as though you can glimpse your children's very hearts and see--not the mischief they are doing--but their good intentions, instead...

... and you no longer care about fame and wanting everyone to know your name. You feel tipsy with Gratitude and you're gladly content with your house, your job and your possessions...

... You look at the faces of your friends, your neighbors, but it's as though you've awakened and realized, "Gee, I really do love that I know you."...

The horns of trains sound like trumpets and you're surprised you never listened to them before... Food tastes better and a steaming cup of coffee or tea appears grander than stumbling upon a chest of treasure and makes sitting in front of a window the best part of the day ...

And you have good days even on sunless, cloudy ones which have no parties or vacations circled in red... and you no longer need music before you can dance. And the best of everything is you realize with a joyful start, "As long as God is with me, I'll be fine." And never have you felt so free.

I believe it was Tozer who said, "It is never fun to die." And that is true.

But oh, those mornings after! They are worth every pain of death, every good-bye to the fragile, up-and-down world your stubbornness had created.

Trust me, I know.


This post came to mind while I reread David Grayson's Adventures In Contentment this morning. His books are remarkable, peace-lending, and I hope you have read them. My favorites are Adventures in Friendship, Adventures in Understanding and The Friendly Road.

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