Remember when Lot’s wife ignored the command of the Lord by looking back at Sodom and became a pillar of salt (Genesis 19:26)? Yeah, that’s the story I remembered when my world got shaken up as my husband and I were moving from our little green house. I loved that place. The neighborhood. The view out our back sliders.
You know what?
I’ve been tempted to look back.
To linger on memories which evoke security and peace.
But I think my memory serves me wrong. My husband and I definitely had upheaval in our lives. Only now, it doesn’t appear as bad. When I drive past the old neighborhood, it seems as if I can smell curry cooking from the Indian family three doors down. I can almost hear the buzz of a lawnmower cutting fresh grass, and I feel the quiet calm of streets lined with homes bathed in slanted light.
Suddenly, I want to recreate that security. The belief of all being well.
The truth is, I have all the security I need—in Christ. I’m not supposed to find it in this world, because I’m made for another. We’re pilgrims passing through, headed to our homeland.
And on this day, when I’m tempted to look back with longing for a time which is past, I sense God taking me to the peak of the land, the whole scope of it lying before me. In bold proclamation He says it’s all His, for He owns the cattle on a thousand hills (Psalm 50:10).
Then, He invites me in—to this inheritance. A place secure for me in the heavens.
And it dawns on me, maybe Lot’s wife forgot about the eternal riches of a heavenly Father. Like me, maybe she wanted security in a land which could provide none, and she failed to remember to live as a pilgrim.
Forgetting to express faith in the moment, giving thanks—even the hard thanks—for the now, she turned back, longing for something God had declared over. And she got stuck. She couldn’t say like Job, “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord,” (Job 1:21).
If I’m honest, I have it good. So good. There is much in my now for which to be thankful. I’m even rich—blessed with “every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ,” (Ephesians 1:3). The wealth of the kingdom fully at my disposal. The offer of God, not that which will pass, but that which will last. Ultimately, the most generous offer—Himself. A relationship which gives out of abundance, never ending, continuing through all eternity.
So I choose afresh, to enter the holy of holies, behind the veil which separates—torn in two by the sacrifice of Jesus at the cross. Coming humbly, joyfully, in recognition of my own bankruptcy.
And I’m unstuck. Moving into the present with the promises of a loving Father.
Linking up with Jennifer Dukes Lee at #TellHisStory