Brown Chair

After over 30 years, my brown chair went to the curb. The chair was older than one of my kids. Three grandchildren watched VeggiTales in it (they ALWAYS were allowed to usurp me there.) My two girls were nursed to health in it. I slept (more recently) through many Sunday afternoons, NASCAR races, football games and baseball games in it. 32 years of Christmas cookie crumbs are in it. Christine was ready to junk it 15 years ago. I learned to pray in it. Like the father in the TV show, "Frazier," it had value far beyond utility. In its admitted ugliness, it reflected much that was beautiful in God's world. I even imagined one waiting for me in heaven when I get there. The chair symbolized heaven.

 

It's gone.

 

While I hate to admit it, sooner or later, everything is gone. It may be replaced by something newer – even better. But the one certainty is this: it too will be gone someday. I will be gone one day as well.

 

The vocation of the Christian is to cherish the beauty God sends our way but to not cling to it for it is passing. Christians look beyond the "end" to see that God has framed the universe so that the "end" is ALWAYS the penultimate – that which points to the end. God's END is good indeed. And lasting.

 

Lord, may I remember as things, people, ideas, reputations, status, and

viability pass away that you have more in store. May I cling to you

and experience the "more." Love me when I let go too soon. Forgive me if, in an attempt to guard my heart, I do not headlong cherish the

beauty that (fleetingly) is around me. I look forward to your END and, with your help, will shape each day around that vision.