come, lord jesus

Our family has seen a lot of death lately. Friends, family members, mere acquaintances. Several losses were unexpected. We've done some visitations, mostly funerals. Morgan and Andrew have asked many thoughtful questions about eternity and the logistics of being heaven-bound.

Scott and I have also learned of people in our church and school community that have been affected by serious illness or challenges in their home lives. Things that make your jaw drop. Things that make you wonder how such awful stuff can happen to such great people. 

The disputes in our world seem like more than just talk these days. There's more intensity, more anger, more reaction, more fighting. Most times I just keep scrolling so that my blood pressure stays in check. 

I've joked more than once in the last month about Jesus making his return. "Okay, any day now, Jesus," I laughed with a friend in the school office as I was picking up Morgan for a funeral service. "Come on back." But there's truth and sincerity in my words. I wouldn't mind at all if His return happened during my lifetime so that we could escape any more tragedy and unrest.

Did my parents feel this way raising us, or is the world really a more awful place just three decades later? Maybe I see more now? Raising kids in such time of brokenness can be scary. It's easy for me to let the fear creep in. I mean it when I say I don't want my children to live in a protective bubble. I want them to know how to handle conflict when  it crosses their paths, how to be brave. But gosh, there's a whole lot of conflict out there, most of which I hope they never, ever have to encounter.

In the middle of all this crazy going on around us, I nearly posted something on social media about being ready. About believing. About the fork in the road when one's time has ended - there's only heaven or hell, and these are real places. Paying for the person behind you in the drive thru line isn't going to get you one over the other. And neither is putting a bullet through someones body. 

Think about this: I'm hanging over a cliff. I'm holding on by a chain of sin, each link representing the things I've done. The links vary in size, some even vary in shape or color. I look over my shoulders and as far as the eye can see, there are others also hanging by their linked chain. Some people hang below me and others above me, their chains vary in length, but we are all in the same predicament - we're about to fall to our deaths off the edge of this cliff. It doesn't matter the degree of our sin. It doesn't matter if we hang by just a dozen links or two thousand. We're all screwed unless someone can swoop in and save us. This isn't an action thriller, this is life. The only super hero big enough to conquer that task is Jesus Christ. And I believe he will.

The prayers of those in the Old Testament were the same as mine. They were waiting for their promised king to save them. And I believe with all my heart that this same King who came as a baby in a manger the first time is coming back to save. My fear - and sadly a reality - is that not everyone believes. 

This Fall has been murky. A muddled mess of sadness for too many people we know. As Advent nears, I'm hopeful that the God's message comes through crystal clear - Jesus is the ticket to heaven. And it better be in-hand because the train is coming when you least expect it. It feels more urgent than ever that this is known. Because in the end, it's all that really matters.