Abundance in the Decrease

I had a dream last night, as real as earth. I could even smell the dirt, that delicious aroma. My family and I were deep into a structure that we had built years ago, with much sentiment rising from my emotions. When I awoke, I cried bittersweet tears. It at first seemed because of the loss of the house and the land, but the reality was the loss of that season of our lives. You simply can't hold back the tide of time. It moves ever forward. Change comes whether we want it to or not. Children grow up, our folks die, stuff goes into landfills. Our stubborn insistence that things must stay the same can hamstring us, though. I love the scripture in Proverbs 31 where God talks about that awesome woman, how she strengthens her arms and takes on the world and the future with a fresh face. So I got up this morning, washed off my sadness, read my Bible, prayed for my people and got on with the day. The devil is the father of lies and he'd like to keep us down for the count, with thoughts that are simply not true. 

My parents are facing the Big Move, where they are letting go of their home and moving twenty miles closer to civilization. It's hard to do. It feels like failure, like the end of the world. All the things that they've spent their whole life obtaining are going out the door for pennies on the dollar. It's an admittance that they are growing weaker and that they are on the decrease, rather than the increase. In the world's economy, all seems lost. But in God's economy, they are getting richer and richer. They started out as teenagers, poor and hungry, everyone doubting whether their union would last a year. They scrimped, saved, worked, toiled and trod water to make a life together. Inch by inch, they kept moving forward. Stability came. Three kids came. They improved everything they touched. The world again scoffed when the Lord broke through and gave them a heart of flesh for a heart of stone. Then came the salad days, the years of increase and full hands. Marriages, grandkids, great grandkids, houses, land, projects, more houses, much laughing. The clock ticked. The bodies began to feel the gravity. Sternums cracked open, years of desserts showed their ugly sides, tickers wore out. The air became heavy and not so easily obtained. Is this where, as Solomon talks about, all is vanity?

Nay, nay, quoth the truth. My parents, by God's grace, have a spiritual heritage far beyond what the eye can see, though the eye can still see precious fruit: three children (with in-laws), twenty-one grandchildren and lots of weddings, fourteen great-grandchildren (with one on the way), and untold numbers of spiritual children. Over Thanksgiving, with family all about, I heard three of my 4-year-old granddaughters (they came here in a batch) mention their love of God. I heard prayers from sweet little lips. I saw love and service all around. Where the world is at war, killing and hating, devolving into abuse and addiction, I saw a family filled with life, wisdom, hope. Funny thing, at the heart of it I did not see two people who pulled themselves up by their bootstraps. What I saw was a couple surrendered, humbled, trusting God more than their own goodness. People full of faults, cracked at their core but turned over to the grace of God, grace that is greater than all their sin. On this planet, there are manifold riches -- gold, land, houses, prestige, titles, fame. In the end, none of those matter. They all burn up. But in the harvest of days, when all is said and done, there are kings that are not of this world. Truly, all that glitters is not gold.