Saturday, August 1, 2009

Hope - August, 2009

Over the last several months, we have been publishing in Sightings some sections from Glad Hearts: the Joys of Believing and Challenges of Belonging (Covenant Publications, 2003), an anthology of Voices from the Literature of the Covenant Church with over 700 readings from the mid-19th century to the present.

We are doing so for the sake of increasing numbers among us who are largely unaware of their inheritance as Covenanters in both life and thought.The complete Glad Hearts volume is available for purchase under the Resources Link on the Home Page of the rootedwings.com website. Comments or questions regarding any of the readings here are always welcome.

Biblical Moorings
Christians have [a] sure ground for their hope. They believe in life after death because of what Jesus said and did. When you read the New Testament you are struck by the fact that Jesus paid very little attention to the death of the body. He seemed to think it a small thing--as if it were just one of many things we meet in life. His favorite word for it was “asleep.” It is true that he felt sorrow over death. He wept when his friend Lazarus died. But why did he feel sad? It wasn't because...death ended everything. He wept because of his sympathy with those who loved Lazarus and would miss him. But he never for a moment doubted that life went on after death.

Even the joy that comes to us as Christians points to the truth of immortality. Have you noticed how often Jesus spoke of eternal life? He meant by the phrase life in fellowship with God. “And this is eternal life, that they know thee the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom thou hast sent” (John 17:3). Such a verse makes it clear that eternal life exists both here and in the world to come. Everyone who knows God through faith in Christ possesses eternal life. It is life so full of meaning and so satisfying that one just knows it cannot end. The body will die, but that will simply mean that we enter into even richer life. As Paul said, “For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21).

Clifford W. Bjorklund (1921-1986), Harry J. Ekstam (1918- ), Karl A. Olsson (1913-1996), and Donald C. Frisk (1911- ), According to Thy Word (1954, 1955), p. 416.

The Christian lives in irrepressible hope because victory has already been achieved in Christ Jesus. Having known the power of the resurrection, he [or she] is confident that the kingdoms of this world will become “the kingdom of our Lord and of his Christ” (Revelation 11:15). And [the believer] is sustained by the assurance that “God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord to the glory of God the Father” (Philippians 2:9,10).

Donald C. Frisk (1911- ), The New Life in Christ (1969), p. 98.

No one can know the time of [Christ’s] coming. Jesus himself said, “But of that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only” (Matthew 24:36). He has, however, given us signs of his coming. It is interesting to observe that there is a sense in which the signs can be found in every age. The physical signs such as earthquakes, strange happenings in the sun, moon, and stars have appeared again and again. War, famine, and pestilence appear throughout the whole of history. And a falling away from the faith can be seen in every age. Is not the meaning clear? We are always being reminded that he can come at any time.

In speaking of these signs the Bible also teaches that it is in a time of crisis that the Lord will come. Listen to Jesus words: “As it was in the days of Noah, so will it be in the days of the Son of man. They ate, they drank, they married, they were given in marriage, until the day when Noah entered the ark, and the flood came and destroyed them all. Likewise as it was in the days of Lot--they ate, they drank, they bought, they sold, they planted, they built, but on the day when Lot went out from Sodom fire and brimstone rained from heaven and destroyed them all--so will it be on the day when the Son of man is revealed” (Luke 17:26-30). “Watch therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming” Matthew 24:42).

“But exactly what will happen when he comes?” you may ask. Here the Church has a number of differing interpretations of the Scriptures. Some believe (largely on the basis of Revelation 20) that there will be a period of one thousand years (called a milennium) when Christ will visibly reign with His saints from an earthly throne, after which will come the end of the world and the judgment. A larger section of the Church has held that the end of the world will occur at the time of Christ's coming. They believe the Scriptures teach that at the end of the present age he will appear, bringing judgment to sinners and entrance into a glorious kingdom for those who believe upon him. The first of these views is called “premillennial” and the second is called “amillennial.” Whatever the position they hold, Christians are awaiting our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ.

Clifford W. Bjorklund (1921-1986), Harry J. Ekstam (1918- ), Karl A. Olsson (1913-1996), and Donald C. Frisk (1911- ), According to Thy Word (1954, 1955), pp. 425,426.

If we Covenanters would live in hope, we need to stay very close to Christ and walk with him “in newness of life!” As we know what it means experientially to be planted with him in the likeness of his death and what it means to be united with him in his resurrection, we shall discover the true dynamic of a holy life. As Paul put it to the Colossians, "If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God" (Colossians 3: 1). The believer's moral and spiritual ascendancy traces from the realization of resurrection-life potential in our experience. That very power which raised Christ from the dead is to be ours now through the Holy Spirit (Ephesians 1:19-23, Romans 8:11). The Savior's promise to his own, "Because I live. you shall live also" (John 14:19) is not on1y the intimation of life after death, but the assurance of life before death, life more abundant here and now, as the Father is in Christ, and as Christ is in us, and as we are in him (John 14:20).

David L. Larsen (1931- ), “To Live in Hope”
From Bound to Be Free: essays on being a Christian and a Covenanter, James R. Hawkinson, editor (1975), p. 134.

Christian hope is not hope in the economy, or hope in the government, or hope in the stock market, or hope in the retirement account, or hope in technology or power. Christian hope is hope in Jesus Christ crucified, risen, and coming again. To speak with integrity to this culture, we must put aside “cheap hope” born of the Western ideology of optimism and place our hope in Jesus Christ alone. Jesus Christ is Lord even if the stock market crashes and the economy collapses. Jesus Christ is Lord if our government falls and our borders are threatened.

John E. Phelan, Jr. (1950- ), “The Humiliation of the Church,” from The Covenant Church in the Postmodern World (The Covenant Ministerium, 1998), p. 11.

Blessed is he who does not confuse the goal, which can easily happen when one no longer looks to Christ alone but to the examples of other men, and when one would fly high and be great as a new man before his time. No one can add ... to his height even though he may worry about it. This finds its analogy in the inner man as well. Nature will have its way and sees no other means by which to become complete than that one seeks to become something. But God's way is completely different. For he makes nothing that which is something so that he himself may become all in all. And this all is written in the One: whoever believes in the Son, he has eternal life. Lord Jesus, may your good Spirit lead me in the straight way.

August Hermann Francke (1663-1727)
Quoted in Gary R. Sattler, God’s Glory, Neighbor’s Good (1982), p. 241
.

Jesus’ authority does not depend on force. If you whisper in his presence, no soldiers will pounce upon you. It is only that his presence has so much integrity that it commands your allegiance. He made himself too weak ever to oppress you, but God made him too strong ever to fail you. Your hope must have a personal object, and he, of all persons, deserves to be that object. Welcome him to be your Lord, not just in your most worthy moments, but also in your most unworthy times; not just in the fullness of your song, but also in the emptiness of your silence; not just from the heights of joy, but also from the depths of despair. He is the one Person who is worthy, at all times and under all circumstance, to be the object of your hope. May his peace be with you. Amen.

Wesley W. Nelson (1910- ), “The Power of the Personal Presence”
From “Don’t Park Behind a Truck” and Other Chapel Talks (1982), p. 8
.

Living It Out
...The Covenant Church is one of the smallest parts of God’s kingdom. I have no desire to engage in a discussion as to “Who is the greatest among the kingdoms of denominations.” Let us rather be concerned how the Covenant may be a servant. May it be a community, first of all totally committed to Jesus Christ.... Then let it be a community committed to one another. This is the heart of the Church when it is seen fundamentally as a community of believers. Finally, let it be a community committed to Christ’s commission to be reconcilers and healers in the world.

It matters little which denomination comes in first. It is hoped the Covenant has matured beyond “salvation by comparison...”. It only matters that on the last day we shall both individually and collectively hear our Savior say, “Well done, good and faithful servants–enter into my joy.”

Paul E. Larsen (1933- ), The Mission of a Covenant (1985), p. 135.

In the Bible another Greek word for time is kairos. This is not clock time. This is not “How many minutes do we have left?” This is time measured by meaning. A young man mows the lawn at home and finds it drudgery. But let him at the mower at his girlfriend’s and, though he might be at it for hours, it seems like minutes. Obviously, the quality of what is felt emotionally in the relationship gives clock time a new value. The “Thank God, it’s Friday” feeling shows how differently we experience five o’clock on Tuesday as over against Friday at that time.

All of this leads me to say that “eternal life” is far more than time beyond death. It is a quality of life here and now. To have “Christ in you, the hope of glory” is to have moments in the present lifted up in the perspective of Christ. If we were totally conscious of Christ in the daily round, common things in usual times would have a new flavor.

This is why I believe that a Christian should be the most alive person around. Not only live at church meetings, sensitive to people, and taking notice of those others easily forget. He appreciates a blade of grass, the melting of snow, the pattern of a snowflake, an honest transaction between two businessmen, and just the way things are. He sees where others do not. “He who has ears, let him hear.” Why is this so? Well, he is not merely trying to get through time to something else; he is aware of Christ’s fullness of truth, life, and love in each moment. “He that has the Son has life.”

...Clock time isn’t the only time. Have we had a new idea? Have we felt a fresh compassion? Have we been overwhelmed by what we have seen in a trivial incident? Has a new slant on an old problem struck us? To see such happen we may have to stop the clock, forget we have a watch, and “do nothing.” Let God bring on “kairos” time, the “fullness of time,” and let us be so surprised that we have forgotten what time it is.
...Who knows, we may discover that we are in “eternal life” already.

Arthur W. Anderson (1920- ), Wild Beasts and Angels (1979), pp. 54,55.

E. B. White, a fine essayist, writes of watching his wife Katharine planning the planting of bulbs in her garden in the last autumn of her life. He wrote: “...There was something comical yet touching in her bedraggled appearance...the small hunched-over figure, her studied absorption in the implausible notion that there would be yet another spring, oblivious to the ending of her own days which she knew perfectly well was near at hand, sitting there with her detailed chart under those dark skies in dying October, calmly plotting the resurrection.”

What a provocative phrase: “plotting the resurrection”! Katharine was a member of the resurrection conspiracy, the company of those who plant seeds of hope, seeds of tomorrow under dark skies of uncertainty and impending death; people going about their living and dying until, no one knows how, when, or where, the tender shoots of life appear, and a small piece of creation is healed. That's who we are as God's Easter people--those oblivious to the ending of our own days, calmly plotting the resurrection.

Glen V. Wiberg (1925- ), “Plotting the Resurrection,” © 1988 Christian Century Foundation. Reprinted by permission from the September-October, 1988 issue of the Christian Ministry, Subscriptions: $42/yr. (36 issues), from P.O. Box 378, Mt. Morris, IL 61054, 1-800-208-4097.

...We hope that our Mission Covenant may bring to our children and descendants some portion of the mantle which has fallen from our sainted messengers. Those who over there in the Northland preached the living Word which regenerated so many hearts to a living fellowship with God. Many a dark hut was made into a better dwelling and palace. Now the clarity of Christ beams upon them, and they echo the new song to the glory of the Lamb.

May our Mission Covenant be kept from self-assumed spirituality and outward semblance of godliness. May the power of a true spiritual life which has inspired the free mission work from which it sprang be found in it again to the praise and honor of the Lord.

O dear Heavenly Father, in your great patience and forbearance, help us and bless us with your rich grace. Take not Thy Holy Spirit from us. Amen!

C. M. Youngquist (1851-1901), Hem-Missionären, December, 1893.
Quoted in Eric G. Hawkinson. Images in Covenant Beginnings (1968), p. 166.


And now I come to ask you, to ask all of us who are the inheritors of this tradition: do you think you own all this? Do you think it belongs to you? Have you done it? Can this remain the adhesive within an increasingly diverse church? I want to ask you about your horizons. But before I ask you about your horizons, I want to say something to you that I am reticent to say because it opens me to difficulty, and I say it with fear and trembling. The revolution out of which our tradition came has not ended; it is accelerating. The movement of those forty million Europeans to the North American continent was only the beginning. There is no place on the globe today that can stand secure and changeless. It is all changing. It is changing before our eyes. No one can predict what will happen to global culture in even the near future. If you have come out of the pilgrim tradition of the children of Israel, from Egypt to the Promised Land, and have used that magnificent opportunity only to be come a Philistine, then take heed. Do you live comfortably behind high and bronzed gates, and worship regularly at the altar of Baal? Are you pleased with the prospects of Social Security and a special pension plan, or the apparent security of America's nuclear deterrent and the overwhelming power of its society and technology? If that provides comfort, then live in fear and trembling, because it will all he taken away from you as surely as was the security of our forebears. I proclaim it.

The Egyptians who sat this night long ago knew nothing of the angel of the Lord with his flaming sword. Only those who had been told knew it---tiic staves, the children of Israel, preparing for their departure. For Egyptians it was a night like any night in the year. Only in the morning would they discover their terror. The children of this earth do not understand their danger, for they believe in these things. They believe in their bombs. They believe in Fort Knox and the dollar. They believe in mortgages and segregated Suburbs and high technology, and all the elegant gadgets with which we congratulate ourselves upon our immortality and our cleverness, the toys with which we while away our adult time and pretend that we control history.

Was it to make Philistines of us that our Covenant forebears were led from Europe? Was it simply to provide us with a horizon no more distant than our own retirement? Is an interest in compassion, in the progress of the world, no more distant than an easy charity, with a willingness to sacrifice only when the “sacrifice” can offer a public relations return or a tax deduction? Are we so constrained by a careful, anxious middle-class consciousness that if we do not take care of ourselves, no one else will? That is the talk of the Philistine. The Lord shook the earth for a purpose. And in the shaking of the earth he revealed to us the good news, that when we liberate our spirits to the life of pilgrimage, all joy worth having becomes our own--absolutely, absolutely for nothing. You cannot pay for it. It is priceless....

If we are to leave a tradition for our children, we must commit ourselves in the same decision. In this way lies freedom. You can be a pilgrim, you know, and never move. It is a question of what you are ready for. And if your bag is packed, the Lord may not call today or tomorrow or even thirty years from now; but he sees it packed. And if you are ready to go when he calls you, you are a pilgrim, and you are welcome--to our song and to our fireside, and to the blessedness that is in store on the other side of the river. Amen.

Zenos E. Hawkinson (1925-1997), “The Pilgrim Psalm” (1978)
From Anatomy of the Pilgrim Experience: Reflections on Being a Covenanter, Edited by Philip J. Anderson and David E. Hawkinson (2000), pp 68,69,70.

When Life Tumbles In
Most of us have had life experiences that have forced us to grow. The idyllic, easy life course we once thought obtainable can become “paradise lost” by one event. It can be a staggering loss. That event forces us into a rite of passage in which we must look at the world with adult but tear-filled eyes. The growth demanded of us may seem too great to bear. And our world will never be the same.

When such an experience changes your life course, know that you have an exceptional Friend who chooses not to ignore your tears, but walks toward them and listens. Know that God does not mock those tears but touches them in love. The Lord will not abandon you to their hopelessness. The Divine enters into the room of your pain and stays there until you can go on.

The Creator knows what tears are all about, having been the One to give your heart and eyes the ability to weep. Yet God knows tears from the inside of grief. The Lord sobs and cries, is as scraped and torn as Jesus in attempts to continually help, heal, and make whole. God anguishes over the devastating absurdity of innocent suffering, is known as one “of sorrows and acquainted with grief.” The tears of God are a mystery we avoid until we share in them. In some unexplainable way, our sharing in suffering forces us to experience God not as triumphal monarch but a deeply vulnerable being.

Mary C. Miller (1952- ), Devotions for Those Living with Loss (1991), p.17.

Covenanters in continuity with all of historic Christianity have always been a part of this steady stream of hope in a world of despair. Of Philipp Spener, among the group of early pietists, A. C. McGiffert has written, “A marked feature of his preaching was his strong eschatological emphasis. He believed the last times were at hand, and that the return of Christ and the establishment of his Messianic kingdom would take place in the near future. This gave to much of his work an enthusiastic and somewhat feverish character, not unlike that which marked the primitive days of the early church.”

Our Covenant Fathers, both preachers and educators, were articulate exponents of “the blessed hope.” Even with differing interpretations of some points of biblical prophecy and the Second Advent, they shared a common hope. Our hymnody reflects the prominence of thoughts about the heavenly home and the Lord's imminent return which were such a bracing and heartening encouragement to our pioneers. They felt loneliness in the new land. They knew poverty and danger. The present age was such that they felt the keen appeal of the age to come. “Come quickly” was their yearning cry.

In every conceivable sense, we Covenanters are heirs of hope. We stand in the succession of those who “confessed themselves to be strangers and pilgrims on the earth” (Hebrews 11: 13), “who desire a better country ...the city which has foundations, whose maker and builder is God.”
David L. Larsen (1931- ), “To Live in Hope”
From Bound to Be Free: Essays on Being a Christian and a Covenanter, James R. Hawkinson, editor (1975), p. 128.


I once visited Yad Vashem, the Holocaust memorial in Jerusalem. The pathos of the artwork, the honesty of the displays, the restrained but comprehensive pictures, the mementos of mass death haunted the silence of the tour. Inside one room an eternal flame and markers note the extermination camps that systematically snuffed out millions of lives. Ashes lie in the foundations of the building. “Families who have members buried here have every right to be bitter,” I thought. “It would be so easy to keep your eyes on this memorial, pointing at the names so that the rest of the world would notice! How could the survivors even go on?”

Yet the Holocaust survivors have planted gardens around the memorial. They have planted rows of new trees, the Garden of the Righteous, to visibly thank God, naming each for a Gentile who rescued some of the Jewish people from the death camps. Green, growing, full of life. It would be easier to keep looking at the ashes; it seems the right thing to do, and begins as expressions of love. But moving on in hope, growing, healing, embracing life is what is far better--and far more difficult.

“God will hear your protest. But what he really wants is your response of faith,” a wise Christian told me. We may know how to protest. We may have the right to protest. We may know that it is right to protest. But to respond to Christ by embracing life? It can be an awkward, hesitant, sporadic, scary struggle. A response of faith at least puts one in God's hands and keeps one receptive to the Spirit. Life from death--a different meaning of resurrection faith. Animate life rising from inanimate dirt. Modern-day resurrection of Christ's power within the believer.

Mary C. Miller (1952- ), Devotions for Those Living with Loss (1991), p. 98.

ECHOES OF ISAIAH 40
Lord, I was disconsolate, and You brought me hope;
I was despairing, and You gave me peace.
Thank you, Lord, for in the midst of my rebellion
You led me to Your Son.
How true it is that only in seeking You can the soul
find its health.
My soul was like a plain filled with rough-hewn boulders of pride;
From atop their granite peaks I looked upon myself
And I was pleased.
And yet how often did I fall from that sin into the opposing sin,
So close in kind,
So close in cause;
How often did I fall from those man-made heights of stony pride
Into the deathly chill of despair at their base,
Into the cold depths of self-contempt.

Those boulders are still there, Lord;
Neither have the valleys of despair yet vanished.
But You are there now, too--and, oh, the difference that makes!
For You have promised to make the rocky plain smooth
And to transform it, however slowly, into fertile soil
In which Your Word might grow
And might send forth its fruit.

Pauline Lenore Larson (1951-1977), Broken Arcs (1979), p. 25.

[Christ] and his church will win the ultimate victory. Through the clouds of battle on earth now and then gleams break forth from the heavenly world. That world, though hidden by the mists of the struggle, is, nevertheless, real. Christians are already its citizens and share in its glory, even while they are struggling to realize its ideals in an imperfect world. Although they go down in the battle--and they are not promised escape--the cause for which they die will live after them and at last triumph over all evil. Thus was the martyr church cheered by promises of spiritual fellowship with her Lord, by bursts of praise from the heavenly world, and by that sweetest comfort of all--by a glorious vision of the ultimate triumph of her cause. In this cause they were willing to bury their own private security, their individual ambitions, and their personal advantages. They had found something to live and die for that was greater than themselves.

Nils W. Lund (1885-1954), Studies in the Book of Revelation (1955), p. 250.

Now anxious heart, awake from your sadness,
have you forgotten the things that remain;
grace and communion, unbroken union
with Christ arisen and ever the same?

Is God not still your heavenly Father,
has Jesus changed since he suffered and died?
Is not the Spirit, pleading and leading,
ever the counselor, helper, and guide?

Are not the saints a trifle confusing,
they speak of joy but great trials endure;
kingdoms possessing, pleading a blessing,
safe in God’s keeping but never secure?

So, anxious heart, awake from your sadness,
rise to remember your blessings to claim.
Though skies be clouded and the sun shrouded,
never forget it is there just the same.


C. O. Rosenius (1816-1868), tr. Herbert E. Palmquist (1896-1981)
The Covenant Hymnal: a Worshipbook (1996), No. 472.

Trust: Be Both Vigilant and Patient
The Christian concern for the future is not speculative. It is, rather, ethical. The believer does not draw back from Christ’s commission to be salt and light in the world, because all power is given to them in Christ. In times of success, a Christian remembers his or her own frailty and the power of evil. Sensing the power of evil, and his or her own weakness, the Christian remembers the power of Christ who overcomes all things. The believer does not entertain shallow optimism regarding success in Christianizing the world. This saves the Christian from the oppressive and compulsive tyranny which has done so much evil in the past. Nor does the Christian’s zeal flag in times of set-back and reversal, for he or she knows that Christ alone will return to establish his kingdom. When Christians think of the coming of Christ, they are not enjoined to speculate. They are, however, commanded to “work for the night is coming.” As John the Beloved wrote in his epistle: “Everyone who has this hope...purifies himself” (1 John 3:3, NIV). This is in no way a challenge to the return of Christ as some would argue. It is only to place emphasis on its ethical implications rather than to use biblical prophecy as a way of forecasting the outcome of current events.

Paul E. Larsen (1933- ), The Mission of a Covenant (1985), p. 110.

The proclamation of hope is an important part of the church's role in helping its people understand vocation. Life deals some harsh realities. If Christians focus too narrowly on finding success in immediate events, the result is often overwhelming discouragement.

Central to the Gospel are the power of the resurrection and the hope of an eternal reward. Christian hope must be preached, taught, and lived by the people of God. That neither de-emphasizes one's will to achieve on the job nor mollifies the sting of failure. It says simply and powerfully that the Christian proclamation of the resurrection and the hope of an eternal reward puts the importance of a job into perspective. The message of hope must saturate our working and our sense of calling.

Bryce E. Nelson (1945- ) and Dwight A. Nelson (1948- ), “And What Do You Do?”: Biblical Perspectives on Vocation and Work (1984), p. 45.

To walk through the orchards in springtime is to inhale the fragrance of hope. Hope is our expectation of glories to come, our eager anticipation of the world's final redemption and our own. When love is the inspiration and aspiration of our hope, our faith in the possibilities of rebirth and renewal grows increasingly firm. God's love will make it happen! And that is no flight of fancy.

Randolph J. Klassen (1933- ), Meditations for Lovers (1973), p. 42.

It is a mistake to think that the past can propel us through the future gap like a fired cannon ball. Rather we must be pulled forward into it like reeling in a fish with a hook and line. We’re seized by God’s future. Someday he will reel us onto his shore.

Brad Hill (1950- ), Slivers from the Cross: A Missionary Odyssey (1990), p. 6.

At the Grave
When we stand beside the dreary graves and shed our hot tears over the ones who have gone away, Jesus comes and whispers, “Your friend shall arise.” And when we sit beside the pale monuments, and life seems as cold and cheerless as the marble, he comes and comforts the soul with his word of the better land, pointing from the dark present to the radiant future. Yes, my friends, when the sorrows come and death makes its entrance into the humble dwelling, when the heart weeps and suffering has ploughed deep furrows into the soul, then we wish to see the sympathizing Savior as our comforter. Then our heart says, “Sir, we would see Jesus” (John 12:21). He can comfort as none other. He says that we have a land where no sickness is to be found. When our earthly tent is breaking down, when the soul must leave this earthly refuge, he whispers, “Let not your heart be troubled. In my Father's house are many mansions. I go away to prepare a place for you. And I will come again and take you unto myself.” He can comfort as no one else. “We would see Jesus.”

F. J. Peterson (Pen-Named Röl Gording, 1878-1917), “Sir, We Would See Jesus”
From The Word Is Near You, Herbert E. Palmquist, ed. (1974), p.159.

Between us and our Father's house there is a deep river, a terror to our nature. It is bodily death. But we may rest assured that he who gave himself to die for us, who has been our compassionate friend throughout life, will not leave us in that moment when all human help is of no avail. No, he will remain faithful in his concern for us. He will carry us safely to the goal for which he created, redeemed, and sanctified us. That goal is the eternal sabbath rest prepared for God's people. “He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, will he not also give us all things in him?” (Romans 8:32). Honor and praise to him who was, and who is, and who shall be forevermore. Amen.

C. O. Rosenius (1816-1868), Romans: A Devotional Commentary, J. Elmer Dahlgren and Royal F. Peterson, translators (1978), p. 110.

It was good to have a grave to visit. There are times when even a child senses something deeper than what appears. A sea gull calls, and something stirs. The golden fingers of the sun streaming through interlacing branches of the trees--trees clothed in blossoms as white as the froth of waves. A little mound with a gray mast.... The moment is enormous! Thoughts of immortality may seem too profound for a child's mind, yet even in early years one may experience intimations of a world beyond the bounds of this present existence. One may probe, question, ask again and again for answers. Oftentimes human answers are not satisfactory. Then suddenly an inner window opens, and for a heightened moment there is a burst of light, a glimpse of something beyond, a lantern coming through the dark.

How often in our childhood did we not stand beside a window peering into the dark, our noses pressed against the panes of glass, waiting for someone--watching, hoping, asking. All at once there came the flickering of a light between the tree trunks. When suddenly, around the bend of the road, a lantern appeared in full glow, what a quickening of the spirit, what a thrill, it gave!

Is it not so when we search for truth and discover at last an inner window opening and light coming through the dark? Call it rapture, spiritual illumination, divine invasion. These are moments when the tangible things of earth lose their form and the great intangibles enter in. Even a child may have such revelations. Did not Jesus say: "Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes"?

Truth may often simply be
What a little child can see.

These higher vibrations, these fragments of light and splendor, do not stay. The moment goes as quickly as it came. But it deposits something in our lives and leaves a memory that can never be erased. To a child these timeless sensations will not flow into speech, for there are no words.

Thus the little patch of clearing within the woodland became more than a burial ground. It rose to a steepled temple, a place of worship where hands were lifted toward the sky. It became an open gateway to heaven.

The impulse to reach up comes early in life. It seemed natural to worship beside the little grave, to give voice to bits of Swedish song taught by the older generation, songs about heavenly destinations and glorious reunions. It was good to send up childish prayers, to shed tears, to look out upon a “beyondness” which neither timberlines nor horizons could hold back. One returns from such an experience as one who has touched the hem of the great garment of God.

Helga Skogsbergh (1892-1969), A Time to Reflect (1965), pp. 68,69.

Rivers of tears have flowed over the dust where past generations are hidden, and humanity continues its solemn march into the gloomy dust, from whence no one returns. So groan bereaved hearts. But is it really as hopeless as that? Without Christ there would be no hope, but the Star of Bethlehem sheds light even into the grave: “As in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive” (1 Corinthians 15:22).

Despair not, wounded heart. “The earth shall cast out the dead,” says our text [Isaiah 26:19]. The light in the eye of your beloved one shall be kindled anew, the heart that beat in rhythm with your own until death stilled it shall beat again when there is no more death. The gates of hades shall not prevail against the church of Christ; hence, we shout triumphantly, “0 grave, where is thy victory?”

Gustaf F. Johnson (1873-1959), “Carols from the Dust”
From The Covenant Pulpit, G. F. Hedstrand, ed. (1954), p. 59.

The rivers of life have their springs in the highlands of memory. From them the fields in this present world are watered. No one is richer than his childhood. What is now is the net gain of what is past. All development flows from wealth to use. What is won by this is not natural aptitude or gifts but power. The child's wealth, all childlike wealth, is what one has. Man's wealth is what he can. The comparative of life's development is not “more” and “most” but “better” and “best.” From this the pathos in coming home. From this comes hope in separation.

The cradle is the greatest kingdom in the world. But the grave is the net gain of all these conquests. Life begins with a harvest and ends with a sowing wherein the best, if not the most of life, is for sowing.

He who cannot hope has a poor memory. What cannot become is not. The roots exist for the crown. To grow deep is to grow high. To be true to one's history is to be true to one's task. Every commanding view in the world of memory is a point of departure.

To remember is to will and, therefore, also to choose. The study of antiquity is a grindstone for the challenge of the future. The shadows of memory lengthen with the daily task. They become longest when the day is done. The interests of memory and hope are united as the day gives its content to the night and, in return, receives it young again, not greater but better. The world of the night is wide and dark, of the day narrow and light. To remember one's youth aright is to be young.

Hail then, you living memories from childhood and antiquity, hail to you. You are my ancestral home and you hide the graves out of which the. future grows.
For me in this hour, the multiplicity of memories is pure unity and meaning, a flowing script, where not a letter is separated, where each punctuation mark is a conjunctive and every shadowing a transfiguration.

I hear a voice more living than in life. I read a life history which death, the great mislayer, has published in a greater, improved, if not enlarged edition.

Here I see life in perspective, life in its three dimensions, not only length and breadth but likewise depth and height. At this grave I see that life is not only time and place but heaven. Everything which ranges far and embraces widely aims to heights.

Here the air is clearest and the position best chosen for the kind of star study which is the condition for prosperous farming. “The hand at the plow, the heart in heaven.” One plows as one sails, according to the compass.

All measurements are measurements of heights. “Hitch a fixed star to your plow,” O sower. To use this world is to dream about heaven: “to use it, as if using it not.”

No one is completely awake. Awakened is the one who dreams. Pauses also belong to the music as blinking to seeing. Heaven is nearer than everything on earth and the shortest way to our duties.

David Nyvall (1863-1946), Memorial at His Father’s Grave
From My Father’s Testament, tr. Eric G. Hawkinson (1974), pp. 286,287
.

There is a road that goes to heav’n, a road to God’s Jerusalem.
That road is faith’s reliance strong on Jesus Christ, God’s only Son.

There is a road to Jesus’ prayer, like him it has a radiance fair.
What none has seen or ever heard he has brought down to lowly earth.

And if you want to walk that way, on his own Word you can rely;
but do not doubt, be bold in trust! There is a bridge from faith to rest.

There is a road that goes to heav’n, a road to God’s Jerusalem.
Right here, right now, it may be trod; where e’er it goes, it goes to God.

Bo Setterlind (1923-1991), “There Is a Road That Goes to Heaven,” tr.Karl A. Olsson (1913-1996), from The Covenant Hymnal: a Worshipbook (1996), No. 745.

Earth was not the goal of the early Christian settlers. They considered themselves but pilgrims and sojourners here. There was a purpose for being here which affected both time and eternity. Many of their edifices have been washed away by the billows of time, but something intangible lives on, instilling in others faith and appreciation for matters that lie beyond the realm of earth. Their simple, childlike trust in God and his Word and the influence of their prayers are still at work. While they sojourned here, they gave witness to it, they sang it, they worked for it. The urgency of their prayers for the growing generation could be read in the deep furrows of their faces. And from these shores have come great lives dedicated to the service of God and man. Not all seeds that were planted in those long-ago years fell by the wayside. Many grew into beautiful Christian fruitage.

Helga Skogsbergh (1892-1969), That Was Then (1969), pp. 120,121.

I have a future all sublime, beyond the reals of space and time,
where my Redeemer I shall see and sorrow nevermore shall be.

A precious heritage is mine, in heaven kept by love divine;
what serves me best, while here below, my Father will provide, I know.

Praised be the Lord, he planned for me–I need have no anxiety;
he would alone my burden bear and make me free from earthly care.

Now peace and joy within me dwell, I sing with gladness, “All is well!”
Protected, guided by his might, he leads me to the land of light.

Dear Lord, I pray that I may be more wholly yielded unto thee,
while on the way I yet remain, before my heav’nly home I gain.

Nils Frykman (1842-1911), “I Have a Future All Sublime,” tr.st. 1, A. L. Skoog (1856-1934), sts. 2-5, Gustaf Frykman (1873-1953), a composit from The Covenant Hymnal (1973), No. 609, and The Covenant Hymnal: a Worshipbook (1996), No. 743.

The sum total of all present endeavors is reaching forward towards the ideal of breadth and length, east and west, which measure all human progress. That is the first dimension, logically speaking, the dimension of space-time, of relativity. All wars, all industry, all missionary efforts, all culture are movements east and west, back and forth with the sun. But there is a larger, an absolute movement which we call height, an upward movement in which the whole universe takes part rushing headlong towards some goal north or south of us. None can in the intervening moving forces at any point say which is the direction. The goal, whatever its name, is God, and the movement swift and sure is to him or from him, Christ being the direction to him. And so there is the dimension of depth, the life redeeming ideal of love, the fullness of Christ day by day translated into the fullness of God.

David Nyvall (1863-1946), “Covenant Ideals”
From David Nyvall & Karl A. Olsson, The Evangelical Covenant Church (1954), p. 115.


If nature and loneliness added some accents to their thoughts of heaven, these elements were not in any sense definitive. It was essentially the content of the gospel which promised salvation, not only for time but also for eternity. They treasured the total dimension of biblical faith as they treasured a roof over their mortal heads. Theirs was a complete orientation. They did not speculate as our later generations did. They sang this hope with great fervor, sometimes in pathos and sometimes in joy. Their songs were marching songs and battle cries, tender thoughts of home and the gathering of strength for the last stern miles of the road on the way to join the Lord and their waiting ones.

The final things of theology have run their course among us as in most religious groups: from a simple assurance that the believer would be with the Lord in heaven, through speculative thought which began to submerge the hope itself, to silence on this whole dimension of thought, and now, to signs of a renewed interest. Certainly Christian theology is much in need of a chapter on the final things, however mysterious it may remain for us in time.

But do not misunderstand the fathers. They knew as well as we that the way home must be through tomorrow and the next day and the day after that. They worked harder than most of us. They knew that coming home would be more enjoyable if they lived more responsibly in time, though admission was entirely a matter of the grace of God in Christ.

Even our space explorations today seem to give the lie to the oft-spoken doctrine that one world is enough, even one world at a time. We have much to do on this fascinating earth, and yet we are going off to explore another. It may well be that God is laughing at us in whatever his beyondness may be--up or down, height or depth, length or breadth. The stars are seen only in the night!

Eric G. Hawkinson (1896-1984), Images in Covenant Beginnings (1968), pp.145,146.

To the child of faith who has long traveled earth’s dusty road, the supreme moment waits at the end. The soul’s dark tabernacle may be battered and decayed, but in a moment, in that last high leap of faith, the deathless soul outsoars the shadows of night and enters into the glorious awareness of full redemption. What a moment!

Let it be light–
As the ripe release of an autumn leaf
Tired of clinging.
But more than this–
As a bird’s swift flight from the quivering bough
..... Singing!

Helga Skogsbergh (1892-1969), A Time to Reflect (1965), p. 138.

About Me

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Nearly seventeen years into retirement, I am enjoying the opportunity to share thoughts and life experiences on a regular basis. This blog is part of a larger personal website at www.rootedwings.com. Your comments, thoughts, and life experience responses are not only invited but welcome!