Finishing Well

Home.

It's where I long to be. 

To be 'home' is a universal longing, as the following song lyrics well portray:

"Home, where my thoughts escape, at home, where my music's playing,

Home, where my love lies waiting silently for me..."

Travelling, hitting the road, exploring new destinations, embarking on a long jaunt into the wilderness.  This can all be wonderful and exhilarating—for a time.

But after a long day, or week in the mountains, beautiful as it may be, my heart has a homing instinct—a beacon—drawing me home. 

Home, where my love lies waiting, silently for me.  

I love to get up early, before the sun comes up, hot cup of coffee in hand, and get out on the road to my favorite river.  As I head west and drive through the countryside, the beauty of the sun coming up, illuminating the valley, is spectacular.  There's something about morning, when everything is new. 

In the newness of the morning, you can—if you choose—put the failures and disappointments of yesterday behind you. 

Arriving in the desert, as the sun begins to warm the canyon, the scent of sage brush and the sound of red-winged black birds, and the gentle sounds of my favorite river warms my soul, as the cares and difficulties of this life fall off my back, one-by-one, like old fish scales.

Experiencing a long day on the river is like a snapshot of spring, summer and fall—all rolled into eight hours or so.  The coolness of morning is like the spring.  The heat of the day is like summer.  And the long shadows and burst of color as the sun drops low is like autumn. But as the long day closes, I long to be home before the darkness falls like winter.

Driving back through the farmlands heading towards home, the smell of freshly cut alfalfa and mint stirs my senses. The scent of newly harvested onions is intoxicating. Even the pungent smell of smoke from burning stubble fields has it's own memorable charm. 

The end of summer signals the harvest.

I love driving home as the light is fading, but still illuminates everything enough to see clearly. There's something very cold and lonely about being out on the road after dark.  I was not created for darkness.

I was created for Home.

Home, where the fire is crackling in the fireplace, warming the house.  Home, where the smell of something wonderful is cooking in the kitchen.   Home, where the sweet sound of my wife singing fills the entire house, and warms my heart and soul. 

Home, where my Love is waiting for me.

As a follower of Christ, I feel like I am on that long drive Home, as the sun is setting on this life. 

Must get home before darkness falls.

Much of my adult life has felt more like a long, hot summer day than anything else.  There have been many wonderful moments, and untold blessings in this life, to be sure.  But there has never been a time when I felt like I am no longer struggling.

Yes, it is a wonderful life.  But life is hard.

Learning to be content—no matter what state I'm in—this is key.

What I am learning as I'm in this life-long process of learning to be content, is to be very careful about having unrealistic expectations.  God did not promise me a perfect life where there will never be any trials, struggles or disappointments.  

Jesus said:

"These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace.  In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer—I have overcome the world."  (John 16:33)

In this world, we will have tribulation—pressure: affliction, anguish, burdens, persecution, trouble.

So, it's a pipe-dream to have the expectation that this life is going to be perfect and trouble-free.  It won't be.  It isn't.   That was never promised to us.

As I'm often reminded, "This isn't Heaven."

So how do we finish well?

First, we finish well by constantly remembering how well we started—in Christ. 

He translated us out of the kingdom of darkness, and into His marvelous Light!   He set us in His eternal family!   Our sin and iniquity, He will remember no more! 

That's a great start!

But as we continue on, in our long journey towards Home... it's easy to get complacent, and we tend to forget how well we started, and who we are in Christ.

We get so bogged-down and bound up by the troubles of this present life—as if this is all there is.

This is not all there is.

We finish well by remembering—and believing—that our Father in Heaven promised us that He has good thoughts and good plans for us, and that He has given us a hope, and a future. 

Perfect love casts out all fear.

We finish well by not believing the lie of the enemy who tries to keep God's people in fear, and who would say to us that God will not keep His promises to us, and that we do not have a hope and a future.

We finish well by choosing to trust in God to manage our life—no matter how difficult our circumstances may be.  No matter how bad the world and the economy looks right now.  No matter how much we are suffering presently.

We trust in God's promise to us that "He will present us to Himself, a perfect Bride, without spot, or blemish, or any such thing." 

He will present us to Himself—perfect, complete, without blemish, stain, sin, or shame. Our perfection is not up to us to complete.  We are Christ's workmanship—not our own.

And for that, I am eternally thankful.

We finish well by clinging tightly to Jesus, trusting Him in all things, being content with where He has us right now; knowing He has promised us an everlasting Home with Him that is beyond our wildest dreams. 

Jesus said:

"In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also."  (John 14:2-3)

Since we know the end of the Story—we can finish well with all assurance; by pursuing Jesus more passionately, by loving more unconditionally, by sacrificing more sincerely and by speaking the truth in love more intentionally. 

Finishing well is our destiny. Home is our destination. Don't give up—we're almost there! We were not created for darkness.

 We're well on our way Home. 

—God is Love, and Love Never Fails.