“For we know that when this earthly tent is taken down (that is we die and leave this earthly body), we will have a house in heaven and an eternal body made for us by God Himself and not by human hands. We grow weary in our present bodies, and we long to put on our heavenly bodies like new clothing.”
(2 Corinthians 5:1-2 NLT)
Yesterday was my forty-third birthday. Turns out, birthdays get a little less magical after forty. I woke up early, ready to begin another trip around the sun and honestly, I was feeling the wear and tear of the journey. The aches are increasing. The smile lines are settling in. Getting up off the floor usually involves a grunt or two. I’m noting the changes in my skin, my teeth, my stamina and strength. Few things humble me like having to hand over the salsa jar, because for the life of me, I can’t budge the lid any longer.
Thankfully my sweet girl reminded me of a powerful truth on Sunday. She has recently moved from one campus house to another amidst her ministry training. In the transition, she had to downsize her things again. She said “It’s okay, we live in tents.” I know my daughter is referring to a message I preached years ago out of Genesis 26, highlighting how Isaac moved over and over in his lifetime in direct response to God.
Crazily enough, this exact Genesis text was in my scheduled reading yesterday. This time around through, I wasn’t thinking of my physical address as much as my bodily frame. “We live in tents.” Sarah’s words are an apropos reminder for the birthday girl. A few months back, I led a ladies bible study entitled “Making Peace with Maturity”. We spent the evening in this Corinthian scripture and a few others, reinforcing the unfortunate truth that these frames are, in fact, temporary and fading. As we age, our tents start to show signs of depreciation. But old age and even death is not the end of our story: one day soon, we’ll trade in these canvas coverings for eternal dwellings: homes of brick and mortar.
This is counter-cultural, for sure. Modern society tends to be consumed with the tent: care and upkeep, creams and potions, liposuction and botox. But Jesus has asked us to fix our sights out a bit farther. He tells us to set our hearts on things above; to live today with eternity in proper perspective. Yesterday, He reminded me anew: let my weathering tent tug my heart toward Him, full of hope for the house yet to come.
External deterioration serves as a stark indication: our opportunity to impact eternity is limited to this lifetime. These tents will fade and tear and someday fail altogether. Today, though, I have breath and stamina to make Him known. I will spend what I cannot keep for the sake of others.
“So we are always confident, even though we know that as long as we live in these bodies, we are not at home with the Lord. For we live by believing and not seeing. Yes, we are fully confident, and we would rather be away from these earthly bodies, for then we will be at home with the Lord. So whether we are here in this body or away from this body, our goal is to please Him. For we must all stand before Christ to be judged. We will each receive whatever we deserve for the good or evil we have done in this earthly body.” (2 Corinthians 5:6-10 NLT)
Lord, thank You for tents that fade. These deteriorating frames remind us of our forever Home and our limited opportunity to make You known. May we take these short days seriously; living about Your business with hearts set on things above. Help us make You known as we make our way toward Home. Amen.