Heavenly Sunshine

When I was a child, we Sunday school kids loved to belt out this sing-songy little chorus:

 

  • Heavenly sunshine, heavenly sunshine,
  • Flooding my soul with glory divine!
  • Heavenly sunshine, heavenly sunshine,
  • Hallejuiah! Jesus is mine!

I always thought the best word in there was “heavenly.” If something was heavenly, I knew it was extra good. I figured heavenly sunshine must be superior to earthly sunshine, which was already pretty nice. Mom fed into my thinking without realizing it when she described something phenomenal as, “Out of this world!”

Although I was young, I was on the right track. Scripture says we should all spend time thinking about what’s going on in heaven. Of course the best thing there is the Godhead, and thinking about our Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is always a worthwhile mental investment.

Since Nate died, I’ve been investing a great deal of new thought on his being “out of this world,” and according to the Bible, these thoughts have God’s stamp of approval. Colossians says, “Since you have been raised to new life with Christ, set your sights on the realities of heaven.” (3:1) Although I can’t detail exactly what Nate is doing, seeing, or thinking, I know all of it is heavenly, so it must be phenomenal.

When we follow God’s urging to think heavenward, the result is that we’re lifted out of our present-day doldrums and planted into the supernatural. And this is a very specific supernatural that belongs only to Jesus Christ. Although he knows we’re currently grounded on earth with its frustrations and limitations, he invites us to pick up one foot and plant it in eternity… right now. When we do, it changes our view of earthly life.

We’ve all heard the expression, “She’s so heavenly minded, she’s no earthly good.” That’s not what Scripture means. We can “think heavenly” without having our “head in the clouds.” Jesus wants us to claim the blessings he died to give us, not just in the hereafter, but today. He wants us to think about him waiting for us and meditate on the home he’s preparing for us. He says when we do, the negative influence of our current troubles will shrink. Even more importantly, he wants us to think about our membership in his family. By accepting salvation, we’ve died to earthly existence and have come alive spiritually. And he means today, right now.

When we practice “thinking heavenly,” we’re transported above the down and dirty parts of everyday living to the coming conclusion of our lives as believers. And that’s ok by me: closer to Jesus, closer to Nate, and closer to all of that heavenly sunshine!

“Think about the things of heaven, not the things of earth. For you died to this life, and your real life is hidden with Christ in God.” (Colossians 3:2,3)

A Sandy Story

Recently our beach had been made smooth by wild winds, then had been doused with rain, making it much like a chalkboard ready for writing on. By the time Jack and I arrived, a menagerie had already been there and written their stories on the sand. We “read” that most of the neighborhood critters began their mornings with creek cocktails.

Jack sniffed enthusiastically as we identified the prints of seagulls, raccoons, rabbits, deer, fox, and coyotes at the water’s edge. Even tiny insects had left winding trails in the sand. I wished I’d been camouflaged in the dunes at dawn, able to watch these critters quench their thirst. How did they all get along? But then we saw the true story by way of the deer prints. Walking toward the water, hoof marks were spaced evenly, about 18” apart, but as the prints left the creek, they were 5’ apart! Apparently thirst was quenched in successive drinking shifts, and the animals knew enough not to drink together.

Nearby there was a sandy story different from all the others: the boots of a man. His steps were made by larger feet than any of the animals, detailing a story of dominance and power.

Scripture says human beings were created to be different than animals, not just in footprints,  capabilities and intellect, but in likeness. While animals were all likened to their own species, humans were likened to God. Such incredible elevation made us unique and privileged, part of which was to receive eternal souls.

The Creator gave animals natural instincts to help them. Squirrels know to store up food in the fall, and birds know to migrate south before it snows. Bears know to hibernate until spring, and deer know to run from coyotes.

But when God created people, he decided on reasoning power instead of instinct. Thus we can weigh alternatives and consider consequences. Best of all we can make our own choices. Our decision-making sometimes gets us into trouble, but we still value it highly.

As God watches us making our choices, he always hopes we’ll do it with wisdom, which inevitably leads to him. But sometimes what he sees is animals choosing more wisely than humans, and I’m sure that disappoints him. Critters know enough to run from danger, but people often run right into it.

If Jesus had been walking on our beach this week, my guess is his steps would have made smooth sandal prints. Scripture urges us to follow behind those steps, not necessarily on the sand but as described in his Word. This can be difficult, since we don’t usually know where he’s leading us. But one thing is sure. If we follow his lead, we’ll be much better off than if we tell a sandy story of our own making.

“The Lord directs our steps, so why try to understand everything along the way?” (Proverbs 20:24)

Off and On

A nightlight is a small thing with a big perk. Its tiny beam of light in an otherwise dark space can calm a fearful child or guide stumbling footsteps. One of my many inexpensive nightlights has a small electric eye on its front that acts as a timer. When the sun goes down and light is needed, the nightlight flicks itself on. If someone enters the room and switches on a lamp, the nightlight turns itself off.

Once in a while, as dusk slowly darkens the room, the tiny bulb in the nightlight isn’t sure if it should be off or on. It wavers back and forth, flickering on-off-on-off as if it’s waiting for the room to make up its mind. “Are you light or dark? Do you need me or not?”

During these winter days of shortened daylight, my faithful little nightlight turns on earlier and earlier as the nights lengthen. You might say greater darkness brings more light. That can also be said about spiritual darkness and light.

As a new widow, I remember the sadness of increasing winter darkness coming at the same time as my night of mourning. I was needy for even a faint bit of light on the miserable situation, but as it is for most new widows, everything just seemed to get darker.

But that ended up being a good thing. Just like my little nightlight produces steady light as soon as everything is black, God responded with strong light when my gloom seemed darkest. He showed his influence in many small ways during those early days without Nate, reminding me again and again that he was watching me and would light my path hour to hour, day to day, as needed.

The Lord also flickers about within our minds, waiting for us to recognize how “in the dark” we can be in our thinking, hoping we’ll crave the light of his wisdom. When we say, “Please illuminate this or that problem with your truth, Lord,” he stops flickering and beams brightly, shining new insights into us.

The only time he lets us continue stumbling in the dark is when we insist on finding our way without him. If we say, “I can do this on my own, Lord,” it’s the same as if the bulb in my nightlight has blown. Without God’s light on our paths or my nightlight’s glow in the room, we’re left faltering and maybe falling. Without any power, no light will come. But calling out to God for his enlightenment is like putting a fresh bulb into a nightlight. The path to power reconnects, and new light comes.

And while I’m thinking about it, I’m going to check for a replacement nightlight bulb… just in case.

“You, Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light.” (Psalm 18:28)