eternity.

i love to think of it. not just the christianese translation of eternity (read: heaven), but the eternity we get to glimpse here on this wretched earth.

grief is a thick emotion. it makes the air thick, as though you are breathing fabric and walking through mud. your heart beats desperately trying to distribute the blood grief has thickened. it makes your legs and arms feel thick, your head and your eyeballs. thick, thick, thick.

in the thick days, the passing things consume your mind. things like shame and despair, abandonment and slander, regret and heartache. these things pass. they are seasonal items. but when they settle out, there are little chunks and pieces of eternity that remain.

i have collected many pieces of eternity this week. i have seen marriage tried and tested and proved faithful. there is much to be settled out, but what has been apparent is beyond this earth and its destruction. i have seen integrity tried and tested and proved faithful. as a result, the sovereignty of grace has been exposed and proved everlasting. i have seen friendships tried and tested and proved faithful. family has been created that is sealed with something deeper than blood. i've seen the love of God tried and tested and proved faithful. ever-faithful and unchanging just like the scriptures have always claimed. these are the things that last. these are the things that don't settle away.

though the settling is excruciating and you scream out for the Surgeon to stop his mean cutting, He cuts away. and what is left is invaluable to a life of sincerity and honest ministry.

and pain is grace. because Christ is familiar with pain. and just as i connect so deeply and instantly with someone who has cared for a sick family member because i can understand them and they me, so any grief i experience draws me closer to Him. it is an honor to hurt, because each hurt allows me to understand the Man of Sorrows a little better. it sounds bleak, perhaps, but truth would expose the joy of it. it is joy to me tonight, even in the dry and dark. joy. there's another piece of eternity to put into my basket.