Lately, my heart has been considering the following verse:
For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison (2 Cor. 4:17)
What is this weight of glory? What does it feel like? How am I to understand it? The truth is, I need to understand it.
In my last post, I don’t believe I answered the question of the songwriter: How DO you learn how to live? How DO you learn how to die, if you’ve never lived or died before?
We are faced with choices in life, but there are two over which we have no power: The day we are born and the day we die. And today, as I pondered these weighty matters (note the word “weight”) I realized,
You learn to live, by living.
You learn to die, by dying.
We spend our whole lives learning to live. And then, we die. Some of us given time to learn to die. My husband was given three weeks. My girlfriend’s mother had only a few days… And yes, if you were able to follow my posts on Facebook, I’ve been concerned for a dear friend’s dying mother. Yesterday, Darlene joined the witnesses who surround us and is now with her precious savior. But my friend is now an orphan.
I was talking with my shipping agent, and he shared that with his mother’s death a few months ago, at the age of 56, he finds himself orphaned, and doesn’t like it.
And the list goes on, and tears leak from my eyes as I write. Momentary affliction? The mind without understanding screams in protest. How can any “weight of glory” comfort our bereft hearts?
But I read the verses before and the verses after and a light flashed in my soul.
So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.
For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened, not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee.
So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please him.
II Cor. 4: 16 through 5:9
I hope you read all those verses. It’s a lot to take in. But what hit me, in context, was chapter 5, verse 1. I KNOW that if my earthly home (my body) is destroyed, I will be with my God, and if I am here in this body, I can have courage to live, and walk through death (when it come), because my aim is to please my wonderful God and Savior, who has prepared a place for me. A SURE hope.
But what is this weight of glory? It is beyond imagining. Heavy, tangible, concrete. That is what a weight is. Sportsmen lift weight to become strong. And somehow, I am made stronger by knowing this weight is ahead. It will not weigh me down, but set me free. In heaven, I will touch, carry, live, in a reality more real than this world, all that God has for me. It will be glorious. And I cannot lift that weight now. It is too heavy for me.
But on that day! My friends Judy and Evelyn, my husband Rich, and my friend’s mother Darlene, are now carrying that weight of glory. I rejoice for them. I am so thankful for them.
And for those of us left behind: sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews, sons, daughters, spouses, we can, if we know our Savior Jesus, take courage. We will learn how to live on, by living on, and when our day comes, we will join the throng, finally able also to carry that weight of glory.
Hallelujah! What a Savior!