It was any thirteen-year-old boy’s wildest dream. Two months off from school. Traveling through Central America with his dad. The Yucatan jungle. Army ants. Man-eating snakes. Exploration up the Belize River. Snorkeling off the second longest coral reef on the planet. Conch fritters. Fresh papaya. Man, that was livin’!
I could hardly believe we were on the way. With bags packed, tearful goodbyes, and high hopes, we jetted south. There was one stopover in Miami, where we were received by some dear friends for an overnight stay. In spite of the soft sheets and humming air conditioner, it was hard to sleep through the night.
As we headed through the city the next morning, my dad asked if we might stop for some film. Our friend’s big Chrysler pulled to the curb.
“Lock the doors, will you, son?” my dad asked. It didn’t take me but a minute to get the job done and I turned to follow the men to the camera store.
They had vanished. I couldn’t even find a film store! My conclusion: the Lord had come, and I was left behind.
It was any thirteen-year-old boy’s wildest nightmare. To show you how depraved is the human heart, my first thought was: here I am with a car but no keys, in a strange city with no friends, and no money for even my next meal (the fact that I was thirteen may have had something to do with that last concern).
Then the reality gripped my heart. LOST! I was lost! Like many from Christian homes, I had made a profession as a little child and it could well be that that was my birthdate in heaven’s eyes. But there comes a day when one must have deep and solemn dealings with God — no longer kneeling at Mother’s side or lisping along after Father’s prayer, but wrestling alone with God.
“Lord,” I began, “I’m not even sure if You can save me now. I thought I let You in a long time ago. Now I want to make sure.” I do not recall much else from the prayer, but I do remember the peace that came, the assurance that all was well with my soul. Though I did not know the verse, I knew the truth of 1 John 3:19-21: “Hereby we know that we are of the truth, and shall assure our hearts before Him. For if our heart condemn us, God is greater than our heart, and knoweth all things. Beloved, if our heart condemn us not, then have we confidence toward God.” My heart had been assured before Him.
Just then I heard my father’s footsteps and his question: “Where were you, son?” How could I tell him I had been to Calvary and back?
Several decades have rolled by since that balmy Miami day, but the reality of the imminent return of Christ has never left me. I often think of my grandfather’s sister, Mary, who died at eight of diphtheria. It was her task, before her illness, to help her mother prepare breakfast for the large family. Often, as she pushed back the drapes to let in the morning sun, she would ask, “Do you think He’ll come today, Mommy?”
That’s living in the light of His return, isn’t it! One can have all the eschatological questions answered yet have no longing for the Beloved. There are important questions to be answered, to be sure. And this issue includes some articles on the subject. But in the final analysis, what the Saviour longs to hear is the outbreathing of the heart: “Even so, come [quickly], Lord Jesus.”
The apostle Paul kept his appointment book with utter simplicity. There were only two days circled. The first was this day. He would forget the things behind that would detain or discourage or divert him from the present responsibility. The second day was that day (2 Tim. 1:12; 4:8). Oh, how he loved to speak of it!
There were three great themes that ran through his teaching on the future like mighty rivers to bring to life what might have become nothing more than dry theology. He preached it as a blessed hope (Titus 2:13) and therefore a source of joy to those who wait for Him; as a sanctifying hope (1 Thess. 1:9-10) that caused the saints to turn their hearts from the temporal to the eternal; and a motivating, imminent hope (1 Cor. 15:51-58) that should stir us from lethargy to eager service for our Lord. It was Amy Carmichael who reminded us that we have all eternity to celebrate our victories, but only a few, short hours to win them.