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August 2017

August 2011

Sojourner

sojourn |ˈsōjərn|

    n. a temporary stay
    v. [ intrans.] stay somewhere temporarily

Sojourner-small Grief is so strange. How can a thing which causes so much pain become a reliable filter through which can be seen the reality of circumstances? In the words of David Crowder, it's a 'beautiful collision'. It's how-things-should-be colliding with how-things-really-are. It's the smallness of humanity colliding with the bigness of God. It's the joyful elation of familial bonds colliding with the sorrow of a loss that seems too deep to mend. It's that moment when you're laughing through your tears and the sound of your heart splintering is muffled by the embrace of a love that will not let you go. 

Some things just don't make sense. Sin, depravity, a fallen world with its fallen diseases, why some souls have a shorter time on earth than others, sudden loss, slow loss, cancer. It all settles like a dense fog, where perceptions of eternity are distorted and hiding in plain view. And then all at once, everything clears. There are brief glimmers of hope when we understand that we are all sojourners who are just passing through, and our stories are never cut short by death. They continue to be written.

I hope... I believe all those loose ends will be tied up for us one day when we're ushered into the presence of Holiness, and we all stand before Him in glorious completion. It will all be clear.

It will be like we never left.

"For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face.
Now I know in part, then I shall know fully,
even as I have been fully known." - 1 Cor. 13:12