The Long Tomorrow
This morning I got to watch sky fade from darkness into a radiant and blinding red and orange – and it made me think about heaven.
It made me think of heaven because, although the sunrise was spectacular, I felt that it just wasn’t enough. Something told me that this sunset was most certainly like looking through a filthy window pane – or maybe the windshield of my car earlier in the morning before the defrost started working. Almost impossible to see, yet we catch just a glimpse, a glimmer, of the greatness to come.
No more cancer. No more welling up with pain inside or overflowing with tears. No more terrorists or towers collapsing. No more orphans or parents dying. No more accidents and frantic calls for help. No more starvation, no more AIDS, no more broken homes. No more divorce, no more anger, no more worry, no more stress, no more aches and pains, no more bloody knees or broken faces. No more rumors, no more hurt feelings, no more lack of love.
And this place – heaven – will be a place so much like earth – eating, music, animals, water, trees, food, a celestial city. So much more than we could ever imagine. – and not simply floating around on clouds. It is a most wonderful place that Jesus is preparing for us, and we know He makes all things good.
And it is there we shall see His face.
That, my dear friends, is what struck me most violently as I contemplated and wondered and longed for heaven. I long more than anything else to see His face, the face of the One who has forgiven me of wrongs that no one should forgive, of sin so deep that no one would want to see it.
And we should long for Him in a radical way.
A. W. Tozer has said, “Let no one apologize for the powerful emphasis Christianity lays upon the doctrine of the world to come. Right there lies its immense superiority to everything else within the whole sphere of human thought or experience….We do well to think of the long tomorrow.” *
We do well to think of the long tomorrow. So think about it as we long to see His face. Oh, I can’t wait to go home!
* (http://www.epm.org/artman2/publish Randys_books_excerpts_from_Randys_books/59_Excerpts_from_Randy_Alcorn_s_In_Light_of_Eternity.shtm)
* Originally published December 30, 2009.
The Fellowship of the Unashamed
Tullian Tchividjian preached an excellent message at Covenant Life a few weeks ago, and in that message, included the following poem called “The Fellowship of the Unashamed,” which I found extremely encouraging. It’s worth reading.
I am a part of the fellowship of the Unashamed. I have the Holy Spirit Power. The die has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made. I am a disciple of Jesus Christ. I won’t look back, let up, slow down, back away, or be still. My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, and my future is secure. I am finished and done with low living, sight walking, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tame visions, mundane talking, chintzy giving, and dwarfed goals.
I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits, or popularity. I don’t have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live by presence, learn by faith, love by patience, lift by prayer, and labor by power.
My pace is set, my gait is fast, my goal is Heaven, my road is narrow, my
way is rough, my companions few, my Guide is reliable, my mission is clear. I cannot be bought, compromised, deterred, lured away, turned back, diluted, or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of adversity, negotiate at the table of the enemy, ponder at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity.I won’t give up, back up, let up, or shut up until I’ve preached up, prayed
up, paid up, stored up, and stayed up for the cause of Christ. I am a
disciple of Jesus Christ. I must go until He returns, give until I drop,
preach until all know, and work until He comes.
A Drive Across Kansas
Kansas. 3:12 PM.
I was traveling on I-70 Eastbound across Kansas on my way back home after a short visit to Kansas State University. My new friends Heidi and Laura, students at the school, were kindly giving me a ride back to the airport. The flatlands seemed like a blur as I looked out the window. As country music stars crooned quietly in the background, we shared and talked about everything from biblical femininity to how they had dealt with being Christians at a secular school.
It was an informative ride. I found out some crazy things, like how similar my experience in college has been to their experience, even though I find myself in a totally different environment. It was clear that we all need community in order to be strong followers. For Heidi, Laura, and their friends it was easy to create their own Christian bubble on their secular campus, just like it had been easy for me to hide in my pre-constructed Christian bubble at my own school.
After some slightly confused (yet still skilled) driving from Heidi, I arrived at my terminal (Dear Kansas City, I love you, but your airport needs to get it together. I don’t like you’re airport. It’s weird.). Due to some scheduling issues, I had arrived rather early at the airport in Kansas City. It’s hard to describe what this means to those who haven’t visited Kansas City International.
Two words will do: It stinks.
My terminal had a Starbucks and a sandwich shop, which sounds great for about 30 minutes, but for two hours, there really wasn’t much to do. However, the airport quickly redeemed itself when I found that they were providing me with free wireless Internet, quite unlike the other stingy airports that haughtily guard that prized possession. I took advantage of this incredible amenity and quickly jotted down my thoughts about my trip across Kansas and how I had learned so much by having a meaningful conversation with two total strangers.
After a few hours, the time came for me to walk down onto the tarmac and board a tiny little commuter jet to Chicago. I climbed on board, grabbed my seat and threw on my headphones (and then remembered my article Dear Melissa). So I took them out and tried to make some small talk. I quickly found out the woman beside me was from Sweden and wasn’t quite understanding me. So I lifted her up in prayer and went back to reading the in-flight magazine.
Just as we pushed off from the gate and began to move, the pilot came on and spoke in that classic pilot voice. The news was devastating:
“Ladies and gentleman, we’ve just received word, literally as we pushed off from the gate, that all planes are grounded heading into Chicago due to a VIP landing. We apologize for the inconvenience. It could be about an hour before we receive word…so…feel free to move about the cabin. Hopefully we receive word sooner. Again, we apologize for the inconvenience, there’s just nothing we can do…”
The plane collectively groaned. I was angered and upset along with the rest of the passengers. I whipped out my cell phone, pounded on the keyboard, and vented to my ride that I would be now have a late arrival thanks to the President. I hung up, heaved a long sigh, and went back to reading.
An hour later we finally took off.
Chicago. 9:39 PM.
As I walked off the plane, it seemed the entire United States had now found themselves in Chicago. Every flight was delayed – except for mine. Somehow my flight home was right on time, which was quite unfortunate since I had been hoping to have some time for dinner in Chicago before heading to my flight. Instead, my plane was about 15 minutes away from beginning to board.
I trudged and dodged my way to my terminal, muttering all the way about the inconvenience and stupidity of it all. I barely had time to use the restroom before rushing with my luggage to my gate. I’m sure my face showed what was in my heart. I saw no reason for this tomfoolery. It was ridiculous. Just plain stupid. My stomach was roaring, my head was pounding, and in my heart I was fuming.
The 15 minutes seemed like forever as I waited to board. I watched the basketball game for a little while, saw Kobe beat the Phoenix Suns with an air ball on his way to the finals, and boarded the plane. Once I settled in, my mind was a little more calmed down. I was back on track now, headed home with a warm bed and familiar time zone as my reward.
I met my neighbor, and this time he spoke English. Well, Canadian English. Which amused me, particularly when I found he was part of a Canadian metal band, an image that made me chuckle. It was tough to talk with him. I didn’t really “get” anywhere, but we ended up having an interesting conversation nonetheless. He surprised me. I expected a metal band member to be rather unintelligent. But he was very well spoken, and his knowledge of all things music was incredible. I rather enjoyed the conversation, and quickly found that this was his first flight on a tour that would soon include Europe. So I briefed him on the routine of a normal flight. We both put in our headphones and took off into the clouds.
Before long however, this flight became more than routine.
To describe in one sentence, as I looked out my window, I was having World War II flashbacks complete with billowing clouds and flashes of lighting. Our plane suddenly dropped. All the rows behind me screamed. I sent up a sudden prayer. My Canadian friend cussed.
The captain quickly came on to assure us that we were “fine” and that a major storm had decided to hang right above the airfield, but it looked like it would move soon. After about a half-hour of circling the airport, we got diverted. The storm hadn’t moved an inch. Instead it had intensified over the runway.
I couldn’t believe it. Once again, I fumed.
So we headed down to Virginia to land, far from where my ride was. I called my ride once we landed, expressing my disgust and frustration at the whole ordeal. We figured out a plan of action – I would have to spend some of the night with my dad, who conveniently worked the night shift close by to where I would land.
Downtown Washington, D.C. 2:01 AM.
It was one of those odd moments where you’re so tired everything seems to be a blur. I was rolling along with my dad to get something to eat before heading home. The restaurant of choice was a hole-in-the-wall place run by a few Middle Eastern guys. It was clean, but still felt old and beaten up. It had that funny smell of ancient buildings that try to hide the trashiness behind closed doors. But I didn’t care anymore. I caught up on the Lakers win thanks to a few television screens and dug into some greasy pizza. My stomach had the won the battle over my sleepy body. But within a hour or so, besides a few detours along the way that I don’t have room to mention, I was on my way home. Finally.
Home. 4:46 AM.
You know, sometimes our lives are a little like my trip across Kansas (and half the United States). It’s full of remarkable opportunities, grand conversations, frustrating delays, heart-stopping adventures, and random moments where you find yourself eating greasy pizza at hole-in-the-wall establishments at 2 A.M.
I don’t think I’d change it for the world.
It is in these moments that my heart seems to show itself most clearly. The difficult moments bring the realities of my heart bubbling to the surface for everyone to see. Sometimes it shows a lack of trust in God in the circumstances I find myself in, asking “why me” or simply telling God “I see absolutely no reason for this.” That’s pride and arrogance taking the controls while humility and trust take a backseat. That’s dangerous in this life – in fact, it may be deadly for our spiritual lives. If we listen to the lies our sinful hearts tell us, we can be fooled in an instant.
The Psalmist reminds us to “be still before the Lord and wait patiently for Him.” He tells us that “in a little while, the wicked will be no more; though you look carefully at his place he will not be there. But the meek shall inherit the land and delight themselves in abundant peace.” (Psalm 37:7-11)
As I look back over my trip that began in Kansas – well, I can’t believe it all happened. But it reminds me of my desperate need to not listen to the lies that my heart likes to tell me in not only in crazy situations, but in the normal, mundane moments of life. Lies that say other paths are better than the way the Lord has for me. When I wake up, sin is there to speak those lies to me. When I’m late for work, sin is there to speak more lies to me. When a relationship fails, sin is there to speak another lie to me.
And so often I listen.
But if I’m to make this journey in life with a safe heart – well, I need to tell me heart to listen closely: God is sovereign, and I am going to humbly trust him no matter what happens.
Even if it means another crazy night like this one.
Not Spectacular
Tall and lanky, he ambled towards my table and slapped down his Bible, thin black note-book and his copy of the “Valley of Vision.” Ladies and gentlemen, meet Spencer Harmon.
Surprisingly this bright and amiable 18-year-old was once a shy child who wept and fled to the comfort of his mother’s knees each time his family sang “Happy Birthday.” Maybe it was the result of his father’s time away in the Middle East during Operation Desert Storm during Harmon’s first year on this earth or perhaps it was his super-sensitive ears. Either way, things have changed.
Harmon grew up playing baseball, a sport he not only enjoyed but also excelled at. When Harmon was nine, his coach, who once played baseball for the Cincinnati Reds and just happened to room with the great pitcher Randy Johnson, possessed a team so impressive that Sports Illustrated considered dispatching a writer to cover their success. His foray into sports continued through middle school and into his high school years. After middle school, Harmon ended his home-schooling years and entered the local high for the varsity team. However, an injured arm forced him to quit baseball for one year. It was during therapy and rehab he lost his passion for baseball.
“I remember going to my mom and saying to her ‘I’m done with baseball,’” Harmon said with a sheepish grin. She just gave a look that seemed to say she knew it might be coming to this. “Are you sure?” she asked.
He was, and suddenly the dream that included scholarships and strikeouts ended. He walked into his coach’s office and broke the news: he wasn’t called to baseball. He was called to the ministry.
And apparently it was to rap music as well.
Poems for posterity
“It was three weeks later that I came out with my first rap song,” Harmon told me. “I had been writing poetry since I was 12 years old.” But he wasn’t very proud of it at the time. “I thought writing poetry was really feminine,” he said. “So I would wait up at night and wait until my brother was asleep, turn on my book light, and I would hang my arm off the side of my bed and I would write poems.”
Before he knew it, he had an overflowing black book full of embarrassing poems just waiting for posterity to discover. “I remember thinking I really wanted to put these poems to beat, and I wanted to share them with people,” he said.
At first his idea was to simply use spoken word to share his work, but he talked to his DJ, Todd Banks, who gave him some beats — and Spencer Harmon’s first rap song was born. He found himself thrown onto a stage, which just happened to be at a youth conference with 5,000 people. Since then he has played shows in almost every state along the East coast, and has written and recorded five albums including Empathy Apathy (2005), Empty Chairs LP (2006), and is currently slated to release a conceptual album Gypsy Project. His latest album “Beats and Babbles” dropped this past month.
“I’m no FLAME,” said Harmon, “but I try to stay faithful to the ministry through rap music.” He’s been influenced by the likes of C.S. Lewis, John Piper and Ravi Zacharias. When it comes to writing, Spencer’s other passion, he loves Pulitzer Prize winning author Marilynne Robinson, Robert Frost and E.E. Cummings. Lately, the “Valley of Vision” has had a huge impact on both his music and life. These days he’s excitedly preparing for the release of his conceptual album, Gypsy Project, which is written from the perspective of being a missionary in a village of gypsies and attempting to penetrate their hearts with the gospel — but this story doesn’t end like a fairy tale. He penned this album at age 17, but it had yet to be recorded until now.
Not spectacular
Harmon has had a lot of difficulty evaluating his musical interests and getting some-where with his gifts, and the call to ministry that he says can keep him up at night. “I’ll be doing one and thinking about the other,” he said, smiling. “But ministry is the main focus.”
Harmon has been dreaming of coming to Bible college since he was a freshman in high school, sitting in his friend Jon’s truck outside of his house, dreaming well into the morning about the days when they would come to Bible college and how incredible it would be. His dream finally came to fruition when he started at Boyce College last semester. “I’ll still be in hermeneutics class and be thinking ‘I can’t believe I get to do this. I get to study the Bible. I get to go to theology class and read Wayne Grudem and the Bible for homework.”
It keeps things in perspective for him, he said. “This kind of school isn’t a place where you should complain. This is a big choice to come to a place like this … If you are going to come here you should love what you do.” All that to say, Harmon isn’t anything necessarily spectacular or new. But that certainly doesn’t mean he’s sitting on the bench watching the big-hitters swing.
“I think the Lord is saying to take the opportunities he gives you no matter how small they are,” Harmon said. The fear of being thought of as someone who only does good deeds for human praise often makes Harmon leery of doing small things that mean much. But even through his own failures each day, he is concerned about being faithful whether it is in his music, schooling, or just life in general. For example, there are students at Boyce whom people don’t really know, Harmon said with deep concern in his voice. He wants to sit down with them and have meaningful and intentional conversations and encourage others to do the same.
“I don’t want talking about the Gospel to be an anomaly around here,” he said. That includes putting that Gospel into action in the very small things in life, whether that is those intentional conversations, or simply thanking those who are serving him in the cafeteria.
To be sure, Harmon isn’t a “somebody.” But it is obvious that when he walks into a room and slaps down his Bible, notebook, and copy of the “Valley of Vision,” he is serious about his faith.
Above all, Harmon realizes this truth: “His faithfulness is greater than my faithfulness.”
For more information about Harmon visit www.beatsandbabbles.com.
Originally published in The Towers, a publication of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. By Tim Sweetman.
Unity Through Humility
The following is a sermon I preached at my home church on July 25th, 2010 from Philippians 2:1-11, called “Unity Through Humility.” The point: there is no room for arrogance at the foot of the cross.
A New Look
I felt that is is high time that I had a new look, even if the look lasts only a few days. There’s a lot of “bugs” hanging around, but that’s to be expected on any website that’s been through as many changes as this one has. But if you find anything major that is needing my attention, please comment here or contact me directly.
You’ll notice the front page proves to be a little more suited to my current writing style. It may change a bit in time, but I like the featured article idea more than the average blog idea that I’ve had for quite some time. We will see where it goes.
I’ve also put up a revised “about” page that will be altered in the near future, but if you want to read basically what I wrote about myself at age 15, you can click over there. You’ll also notice easier access to the archives, which I recommend you read, laugh at, and enjoy.
God Bless,
Tim Sweetman
Latest From Boundless: In Security
My latest from Boundless.org, “In Security.”:
I had a terrible nightmare last night. When I woke up, all I really remembered was that I had been horribly humiliated and embarrassed multiple times in the dream — and that in the end I had to frantically rescue family and friends from my house that was about to catch fire. It finally erupted with a huge explosion, and burned to the ground as I fell on my side and wept.
I woke up with tears in my eyes, so thankful it wasn’t real.
It was just a dream, but I know many people who seem to find themselves living in a reality that forces them to simply drop to their knees and weep. There is nowhere to turn. There seems to be nothing holding them any more. For them, the turmoil of my vivid dream is their vivid reality.
Why is a middle school kid named Tyler one day a healthy and happy kid, and the next day in the hospital, gasping for his next breath and finding out that he has cancer? Why does someone like my friend Matt pray and pray and pray, then lose his wife in the battle against cancer?
Why am I sometimes frozen by fear of the future, unable to make any decisions or trust God?
To the human eye, so much of this life does not make sense. It just seems to be full of confusion, uncertainty, and sin.
And you know what?
It is.
Messiah Missions
There is something about sitting in a remote village on the other end of the world with beads of sweat dripping and burning my eyes, the dust kicking up off the fields, and the trickle of rainwater and sewage making its way through crooked alleys and cow-dung houses that are filled with peeping eyes and smiling faces. It’s an incredible experience to sit and talk so long on a bed made out of rope that your leg falls asleep and you take a tumble that allows the whole village to erupt in laughter as they forget their struggles and poverty for a fleeting moment.
Tim Sweetman in FUSION Magazine
I’m excited because my article “Buzzards on the Brain” is in the latest edition of FUSION Magazine. Pick up your copy today!
Dear Melissa
You can check out my latest from Boundless here, and you can contact me by clicking here. Enjoy:
Now, I realize I don’t know you at all. But I feel like I need to write this letter because I have to confess.
// Read the rest! //