Going Home

In my last post, I talked about imperfections and how my everyday trials are preparing me for the perfection of eternity. Consider this to be part two of that thought process.
Not too long ago, I read a fellow writer’s illustration of the Christian’s concept of eternal life. He recounted that so often we just want to be comfortable in this life. We know that eternity awaits, but we are so intently focused on the here and now. You would think that if we were truly eager to spend eternity with Him we wouldn’t be bogged down with the temporary things of earth. Yet, we hurry through each day, latching on to the newest technological gadget and pursuing any pleasure that money can buy. We are satiated but only for a moment. We hardly ever stop to process the fact that we are just passing through in this life. Greater promise and wholeness await in the Kingdom of Heaven, but our finite minds only process what is right here in front of us.
I don’t know about you, but sometimes I just long for home. When I take my eyes off the troubles and toils on this earth, I find myself eager for the day I can leave everything behind and embrace His holiness.
Sometimes I need an everyday reminder to bring this into focus, and such a reminder came this past summer in the Minneapolis/ St. Paul International Airport. I was coming back from a conference and felt secure in the fact that my new friend, Caroline was beside me. But the sense of security only lasted a few moments when Caroline informed me that she wouldn’t be able to help me find ground transportation; she had to make her connecting flight and she was already running late. We said goodbye hurriedly, and Caroline made certain that an airport personnel knew of my need for assistance. Then she was off.
I stood off to the side of the ticket counter for what felt like hours, my white cane propped at my side. Finally, someone made their way over to me and directed me to a spot where I could wait for one of those carts that would transport me to where I needed to go. The message must have been mis-communicated for some time, for one by one, I watched as carts filled with passengers whizzed past me without seeming to notice I was in need. At last, a cart pulled up with an empty spot in the front, right next to the driver. The tall, African-American driver asked me if I needed a ride, and when I said yes, he told me to hop on.
We hadn’t made it far when the couple sitting behind me asked if we could pull off at the lost and found counter. The woman had lost her wallet and they were hoping it had turned up upon their arrival in Minneapolis. So we pulled off to the side, and the husband went in search of his wife’s wallet. We waited for a long while, only to find out that the husband had not managed to track down the wallet.
So we moved forward, inching toward baggage claim where the couple would pick up their checked luggage and be on their way. But I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. The husband wanted to check with the airline and see if his wife’s wallet could be found at their previous destination. So we stopped at yet another counter and waited.
At one point, the woman behind me apologized and asked if she and her husband were holding me up.
“No,” I said, forcing a smile. I was tired and just wanted to get home, but I wasn’t going to let the ordeal put me in a foul mood. “I’m just going home, so I can always book another shuttle if I miss my scheduled run.”
“Oh, dear, that’s so sweet of you,” she commented.
I shrugged it off. “It’s no problem,” I told her. “I’ll be praying that your wallet turns up soon.”
“Oh, thank you, honey,” she said. “It’s so wonderful to meet another believer. May God bless you.”
“My mama raised me to believe in Jesus too,” our driver interjected. “Isn’t it great to spend time with our brothers and sisters?”
We both nodded in agreement as the cart finally pulled away from the counter with the husband once more on board. It wasn’t long before the couple was dropped off, and the driver who now introduced himself as Roosevelt and I made our way on foot toward ground transportation. I was concerned that maybe I had missed my shuttle altogether. It was a long trek across the airport, and I only had a few minutes.
But Roosevelt proved himself to be a competent professional, and soon I was at the counter, giving my name to the representative behind the shuttle carrier counter. “Ah, Miss Lokker,” he said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
I sighed with relief and sank down into a chair to wait for departure. Roosevelt seemed reluctant to leave me, but I assured him that I would be fine. As he walked away, I closed my eyes and smiled. I would soon be home, and the journey was certainly worth it.
In an odd-sort-of-round-about way, I had made it to the last stop on my journey, and although things hadn’t gone smoothly, I had a small taste of greater value. Instead of being allowed to hurry on my way, God had set plans in motion so that my progress would be halted by a sweet older couple and an African-American cart driver named Roosevelt. I lifted up a prayer for the woman and the safe return of her wallet. In some small way, I had received a taste of eternity. Four fellow believers had stopped in the midst of the bustling airport and simply reveled in their shared faith. There were more important matters than reaching a destination on time. It was all about reaching the destination when God’s perfect timing had come to pass.
In the end, I got home safely, but not before I was reminded of the journey and the process of reaching that end result. Yes, I am eager for my eternal home, but until then I need to live my life out on earth for the purposes of my Creator, not some menial task or scheduled event on my calendar. Some things are worth waiting for.