How Important Is Hope?

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by Larry Short

World Vision friends and colleagues Brian Sytsma (left) and Rob Moll. Rob was killed last month in a climbing accident on Mt. Rainier. Photo courtesy Brian's Facebook page.
Two World Vision colleagues and friends hiking: Brian Sytsma (left) and Rob Moll (right). Rob was killed in a hiking accident on Mt. Rainier last month. Photo courtesy Brian’s Facebook page.

Last week I learned that someone I loved and respected at World Vision, looked up to as a mentor and considered a friend who had been very kind to me, died very suddenly and unexpectedly on Mt. Rainier.

Rob Moll was an editor at Christianity Today for many years, before coming to World Vision and taking a job (as writer for the president) that I had applied for. I was vaguely annoyed, of course, even though I recognized he was far more qualified than I was — an amazing writer and editor who had published several brilliant books.

But my annoyance faded quickly as I got to know Rob. He was a riveting presenter at chapels, and his intense curiosity, scientific interest, and passionate love for Jesus made it hard to stay annoyed. The last time we met was an informal lunch at World Vision’s U.S. headquarters, where I sought and received from him some good advice on how to get my novel professionally reviewed.

Rob left World Vision shortly thereafter for a job in Boston, but retained some good friends here, and came back here last month to climb Mt. Rainier with one of them, a colleague and friend named Brian. They were climbing an escarpment when Rob lost his footing and fell 100 feet. Brian descended quickly to find him unresponsive, and by the time the helicopter arrived, he had passed into the presence of Jesus.

One of Rob’s books is titled: The Art of Dying: Living Fully Into the Life to Come.

Rob was only 41. He had a wife and four children. His funeral is Friday afternoon. (Please let me know if anyone would like to go with me.)

Rob’s passing was the second brush with grief I’d had in the past few months. I struggled when I learned earlier this year that Pastor Martin and Kim were moving on. Martin is a good friend and mentor and one of the key reasons Darlene and I fell in love with this church and have enjoyed being a part of this body for the past 20 years or so.

And of course I’ve also lost my mom and dad, both sets of grandparents, other aunts and uncles, and many other friends, many of them here at Elim. I don’t think it’s possible to experience living until you are in your 60s without the shared experience of loss and grief.

What buoys us up in the midst of such loss? What sustains us and helps us to keep going? It’s hope.

Hope tells me that Rob and I will have lunch once again. It tells me that I will be joyfully reunited with my parents and other lost loved ones, and that we will together explore the hills of heaven and enjoy a deeper and more personal knowledge of our Savior when we do.

Hope also reassures me that God knows what he is doing in a church which experiences the loss of a pastor and friend like Martin!

Hope is not wistful or wishful thinking, like our culture sometimes thinks it is: “Wow, I really hope that happens ….” No, it’s something completely different. Hebrews 11:1 assures us: “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” So hope is all tied up in this package with faith and conviction. It’s something you believe, because the God who is faithful and who keeps His promises says that it is so.

And it has occurred to me more than once, and more vividly recently, that if we can trust God to reunite us with our loved ones, if we can trust Him when He promises life eternal, we can also trust Him when He plainly tells us other things. In one sense, smaller things … things like: “Do not fear” (which he repeats over and over again in Scripture), or promises of His presence with us now, or of His imminent return, or promises that if we ask for the good gift of the Holy Spirit, He will grant that Gift.

While the pain of loss and grief diminishes over time, I don’t think it ever disappears completely in this life. But the promise of hope tells us there is a life coming when Christ will “wipe every tear from our eyes” (Rev. 7:17 and 21:4). Loss will then be a distant and powerless memory, when we are confronted with the reality of the coming Kingdom, eternal life, and the King in all His glory!

I’ve been thinking about and working on the challenge Pastor Steve shared Sunday: What letter might Christ write to us, just as He wrote to the seven churches in Asia Minor through John? Part of that assignment is, what might Christ commend in our church? For me, I think the answer is that Elim is a place that has, for me, nourished hope. We are excitedly and expectantly, together, looking forward to that day when He will wipe away our tears!

P.S.: Go here if you’d like to contribute to a special memorial campaign for a project that was near and dear to Rob’s heart, life-saving clean water in Malawi. Or click for the Gofundme page set up to help Rob’s family.

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DEATH

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By Martin Schlomer

Death. No matter how often we encounter it, we never get used to it. Even when we expect it, when it happens, it feels unexpected.

This morning at 6:30, I received a call from my sister-in-law telling me that my father just passed away. He had been in very poor health for many years, yet he lived to see 89 years old. If you’ve been around Elim for a few years, you know that my father’s relationship with his children was conflicted. For 50 years, these relationships were complicated by his physical and emotional pain and, to some degree, mental illness. He didn’t want to be this way. No one ever does. It just is. There were times when he would be kind, empathetic, and even joyful. Then there were times when that would all change. No one understood why, and I suspect neither did he. 

As I processed our family’s loss, I was able to experience deep gratitude to my father and to my heavenly Father. I know Earl Schlomer wasn’t the man he wanted to be.  I can’t hold this against him. Instead, I can identify. All of us feel this way! However, I rejoice that he is now a new man! He is now the man he aspired to be (1 John 3:1-3)! This never takes away the tears, but it does fill them with hope and meaning.

No one is ever born with the tools necessary to overcome their physical, emotional, and even mental challenges. All of these demons conspire to sabotage our most sincere aspirations of who we long to be. This is why we work together to learn from one another, to equip and encourage one another in these aspirations, and to show grace when we fall short, which will happen daily! This is why it is critically important for us to bear with one another in love (Ephesians 4:2). Don’t lose hope! On some expected but unexpected day, we will be the person we aspire to be! Until then, we choose to give grace, love well, and hold onto hope. God’s grace is GREAT!

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Dying

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By Brian Waple

I would like to use this Last Word to address something that we typically don’t talk about. We have brothers and sisters in our body who have experienced or are experiencing a family member’s or close friend’s death. Our Christian response is to lovingly pray for God’s comfort and peace for the individual’s family during these times of mourning and loss. But, what should be our expectations about dying?

In the Waple/Reynolds families, we have lost several loved ones over a short period of time, and it has caused me to reflect on the significance of death. I guess as you get older, you start to do this more often. One writer who has influenced my Christian life and thought is Henri Nouwen. Nouwen was a beloved priest and author whose writings on the spiritual life are appreciated by those in many Christian faith traditions. Writing about dying, Nouwen had this to say:

Dying is returning home. But even though we have been told this many times by many people, we seldom desire to return home. We prefer to stay where we are. We know what we have; we do not know what we will get. Even the most appealing images of the afterlife cannot take away the fear of dying. We cling to life, even when our relationships are difficult, our economic circumstances harsh, and our health quite poor. Still, Jesus came to take the sting out of death and to help us gradually realize that we don’t have to be afraid of death, since death leads us to the place where the deepest desires of our hearts will be satisfied. It is not easy for us to truly believe that, but every little gesture of trust will bring us closer to this truth. [emphasis added]

This past Sunday, Pastor Martin spoke on desires. He addressed the desires that are driven by our natural tendencies. We (and I include myself) struggle with these desires our entire lives. But, I believe that the deep desires Nouwen alludes to, the ones we glimpse only rarely, are the ones that God has placed in us at our core from the very beginning. And I believe that as a Christian, one of our deepest desires is to be with God and know Him completely. During our lives, we strive to fulfill this desire in one way or another, but we are destined to fall short every time. It is only by passing through the mortal veil of this life that we reach a point where this deepest of desires is finally met.

So, although we will mourn the loss of those we love for the remainder of our time on earth, I believe that there is a truth about death that is helpful for us to hold in our hearts: it is only through death that God’s perfect work is completed. We can learn to be reconciled to death, because as Nouwen states, we are finally returning home, where “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (Rev. 21:4). And it is through death that we are finally able to live eternally, as we were created to be.

“I heard about a mansion / He has built for me in glory. / And I heard about the streets of gold / beyond the crystal sea; / about the angels singing, / and the old redemption story, / and some sweet day I’ll sing up there / the song of victory.” (“Victory in Jesus,” E. M. Bartlett)

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Funnel Cakes and Elephant Ears

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By Jeff Foerster

Having been to the fair, I can tell you there is no lack of choice. From your pick of animals to smell and amusement rides to jostle the “kid” in you, to every gastronomical delight a taste bud may savor that wallet can procure. Whatever you desire, it’s there — especially if it’s deep-fried. When I was a wee lad, I knew the “elephant ear” to be a rare treat. Being of tender heart, I, of course, had misgivings about the origins of said delicacy and approached each encounter with reverence, at least until the buttery, buttery goodness reached my tongue and then any sense of propriety was thrown out the window.

Unfortunately, I don’t know how to tie edible pachyderm parts into an object lesson with spiritual implications — this is where the funnel cake comes in. Next, I suppose I need to apologize in advance to all you linear thinkers out there who are hoping I produce a direct connection; alas, you are to be woefully disappointed.

On Sunday last, Pastor Martin spoke of the narrow and the broad way, at one point referencing a funnel to illustrate this truth. I think this is a profound picture to keep in mind and meditate upon. Other than cars and kitchens, I don’t know where you’d find funnels, but either way, I invite you to bring a picture of one familiar to the forefront of your mind (or just look below).

The open, or “gathering,” side represents the wide way, one like the fair with options galore. You can choose “traditional” Christianity or choose a “prosperity” message. You can select a life closely following religious mandates or traditions, or you can choose “freedom” from any code of conduct other than that which seems good to you. You may go to church weekly, on Christmas and Easter only, or not at all — It’s entirely up to you, and that’s the point — you create a system of morality and a god in the image that is acceptable to you and, after all, as long as you are sincere, who is to say any differently? The problem is that there is no life here, only a shrinking existence — spiraling toward the small end — culminating in spiritual death.

But there is another way. Look at the narrow end — such a small opening; there’s not much room to pass that way. That way is Jesus. It is not Buddha or Mohammed. It’s not “spirituality” or sincerity or keeping rules, laws, or promises. You can’t take anything with you on this journey; there is room for neither pride nor prejudice. Passing through the narrow way is akin to baptism, symbolizing and identifying with Jesus in His death. But this is only the beginning. From there, from the narrow and uncompromising path of accepting our guilt and inability to do anything about it, embracing God’s solution in Jesus Christ’s sacrifice, and entering the life of Jesus, from there life eternal begins! Traversing through the narrow way, we come to an opening that has no ending. Expanding ever outward, representing resurrection, this eternal life begins immediately, bringing true freedom that the world cannot offer nor comprehend.

So, the next time you visit the fair or decide to change your engine oil, remember the illustration of the funnel and the amazing gift of God, given to the undeserving, bringing life forevermore to all who praise the name of Jesus!

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