Good morning church family,
“A hundred years from now it won’t matter to anyone.”
I often heard my dad say things like this throughout the years I spent under his roof and tutelage. Swept up in the fervor of another Washington Redskins postseason run, I would be positively crushed as the clock went to zeros with my beloved Skins down a touchdown or two. “Cheer up son,” my father would say with a sigh, “a hundred years from now no one will even remember.” After trading a little paint with a pylon in the grocery store parking lot, I stood hands-on-head staring at the damage done to the left front quarter panel of the family wagon. “Well, lesson learned” my dad said, hands-in-pockets. “And a hundred years from now it won’t mean a lick to anybody anyway.” As I sat stewing after a swing-and-miss sermonette I preached in one of my first forays into public speaking, my good father asked if I wanted to ride into town with him to get some ice. “Try not to judge things according to what kind of response you get or don’t get when you’re preaching,” he said as we both stared out at the amber-tipped hayfields flying by. “A hundred years from now the only thing that will matter anyway is what Heaven thought of the whole thing.”
I could give several more examples of moments just like these and in every one of these instances my dad would administer these little offerings of perspective. They always proved to be a healing balm applied to my sad, unsettled soul. Surveying the rubble remains of some cherished hope or dream or the ruins of some good thing that I had wreaked havoc upon, I’d ponder what the world might think of it all a hundred years down the road. In this contemplative state, one of the first realizations that would dawn on me was that I wouldn’t even be alive to see the end of that span. In a hundred years I would be dead and headed down to the grave right behind me would be all my endeavors and ambitions, successes and failures, and legacies both good and bad. And it wouldn’t be just me that would be dead; but so would my high school history teacher, Mr. Hier who I couldn’t help but disappoint and cute, curly-haired Kari who would pass notes to me in class and then giggle inexplicably about it and my pastoral ministry mentor who was so frustrated with my progress at one point that he asked me not to phone him anymore – they’d all, in a hundred years-time, join me in being dead and gone.
My pondering also produced an understanding that life will go on no matter what and that I best not lollygag too far behind it. It would be better for me to make the most of the next hundred years than to rue the failings of the previous hundred.
I’ve found myself using this same kind of saying with my own children now that they’re beginning to experience some of the heartaches that come with living in the world. I’m careful, in my administering of this tonic, to never let a forgetful tomorrow become license to be lazy, careless, or apathetic today. No matter what – we must always give our best to God. But still, I’m amazed at how effective my father’s thinking can be in helping everyone find forgiveness and move on. It’s such a blessing to think of Heaven throughout the day. Pilgrims just passing through tend to deal a lot better with the world’s wasting away than those living in moated castles do.
Whatever your disappointments or frustrations today – just remember that a hundred years from now we’ll be waking up in Beulah Land to live out eternity in that city bright and fair. By then not much of this will matter. In fact, nothing but the blood of Jesus and the treasures His sacrifice stored up for us in Heaven will matter. So, just keep singing that old pilgrim song: “Turn your eyes upon Jesus – look full in His wonderful face. And the things of earth will grow strangely dim in the light of His glory and grace.”
We’re looking forward to another wonderful time in the Lord’s house tomorrow morning. It will be so good to see each other and, in our fellowship, have the chance to sing, shout, and hear from Heaven. It’s going to be a blessing! May the Lord, mighty God, bless and continue to keep us!
- Pastor Tate
