Vision for Eternity

I guess it's been about 6 or 8 weeks ago that I learned of this blog, where, at the time, Conor and Boothe Farley were awaiting the birth of their second daughter. They knew that this daughter wouldn't make it long in this world. She was diagnosed prenatally with Trisomy 18. I know very little about that disorder, other than that it seems to be cruel and leave broken families in its wake. Copeland Farley was born on September 18 and was the most beautiful china doll of a baby you have ever seen. She went home to Jesus on September 26, living for an astounding 8 days with her family soaking up every minute that they possibly could with her.

Boothe continues to blog about her walk down this road of grief and share with the internet the range of emotions that bombard her. I really believe the Lord is speaking through her in powerful ways. In preparing for a talk, I was preparing to mention something about how all of life -- our rising and sleeping, daily work, etc. -- are all in God's hands and His will and we will do nothing outside of God's will. But I don't want to leave that out there as if horrible things that happen TO people are God's will. Then I heard one woman mention the complexity that is the Sovereignty of God versus the free will of man. Yes. How do you explain that -- is it even possible? Then I read the following post from Boothe. Wow. Her words are powerful.

"For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of
God is stronger than man's strength." (1 Corinthians 1:25)

A pastor who prayed over Copeland at one point reminded me - well, to be
truthful: told me - that her disease, her sickness, her plight, whatever you
care to call it, wasn't God's design. It wasn't His plan. We talk a lot about
"God's will" and of course I do believe He has a will, although I'm growing more
and more convinced that our sorrows and sufferings have absolutely nothing to do
with it. What we see in the midst of great agony and strife is usually a glimpse
into both Heaven and Hell - and in the glimpsing, there's a gift. In my broken,
four-pound baby, who looked a little different, lived a great deal differently,
and ultimately left me here to grieve her loss, I found a sort of joy that I'd
never known, a real joy, and my time with her was not only laced but literally
steeped in happiness and blessing. And yet, the hour of her departure and
certainly the last moments I held her were wracked with a sorrow and heartache
that I could not have imagined. There was a bit of Heaven, and a bit of Hell.
How I long to fully know the one and fully spurn the other! Therein lies the
real gift. Perhaps God's will is more wrapped up in removing the blinders from
our eyes than in giving or taking anything away.

So am I mad? Sometimes. If God didn't ordain Copeland's sickness, if it
wasn't His design, why in the world did she have it? Because I live here. It's
like asking why I have a Southern accent. It comes free, courtesy of my locale.
She wasn't sick because I needed to learn a lesson. She wasn't sick because I
didn't do enough things right - or too many things wrong. She was sick because
we live in a broken, fallen world and until Jesus comes back, things are just
going to keep going wrong. Not all the time - that's when the glimpses of Heaven
come in. But quite frequently. Life is truly one long dysfunction. Only by God's
grace - getting what we don't deserve - do we ever see any good at all. I
bargain with God a lot. I tell Him that this was it, this was my quota of "bad
stuff." And I mean it. But the reality is that as long as I'm here, the bad
stuff's going to keep on coming. All I can do is pray the packaging looks a
little different and that Jesus will hold me up until He takes me home or
returns. It sounds like a pretty raw deal. But that's through human eyes. If we
could see differently, we'd think differently.

Before Copeland was born, I prayed that God would give me a "vision for
eternity." I think I probably uttered those words more in a moment of personal
satisfaction - "wow, that sounds good!" - than true desire, but nevertheless,
they seemed to have been Spirit-filled. I want a clearer understanding of
Heaven, to be sure. I want to know more fully where Copeland is. But my prayer
at that point, while I thought it regarded her experiences, was really about my
own. If the only vision I have is for right now - she's gone, i'm here, and the
world's literally going to Hell in a handbasket - then I'm going to be one
bitter girl. The vision I need is one that tells me that what makes sense to my
senses isn't necessarily true. Broken bodies often equal whole spirits. Strength
can sometimes house itself in weakness. A vision for eternity turns the truths
of this world on end. It's the only way an unattractive, unpopular renegade
hanging on a cross can possibly mean more than brutality and devastation.

And so I keep praying that prayer. Fix my eyes on You, Lord. Like another
old song, "Come Thou Fount," says: "Prone to wander/ Lord, I feel it/ Prone to
leave the God I love/ Here's my heart/ Oh take and seal it/ Seal it for Thy
courts above."