by Max Lucado
Aging is God’s idea. It’s one of the ways he keeps us headed homeward. We can’t change the process, but we can change our attitude. Here is a thought. What if we looked at the aging body as we look at the growth of a tulip?
Do you ever see anyone mourning over the passing of the tulip bulb? Do gardeners weep as the bulb begins to weaken? Of course not. We don’t purchase tulip girdles or petal wrinkle cream or consult plastic-leaf surgeons. We don’t mourn the passing of the bulb; we celebrate it. Tulip lovers rejoice the minute the bulb weakens. “Watch that one,” they say. “It’s about to blossom.”
Could it be heaven does the same? The angels point to our bodies. The more frail we become, the more excited they become. “Watch that lady in the hospital,” they say. “She’s about to blossom.” “Keep an eye on the fellow with the bad heart. He’ll be coming home soon.”
“We are waiting for God to finish making us his own children, which means our bodies will be made free” (Romans 8:23).
Are our bodies now free? No. Paul describes them as our “earthy bodies” (Phil. 3:21 MSG). Or as other translations state:
“our lowly body” (NKJV)
“the body of our humble state” (NASB)
“these weak mortal bodies” (NLT)
“our vile body” (KJV)
“our simple bodies” (NCV)
You could add your own adjective, couldn’t you? Which word describes your body? My cancerous body? My arthritic body? My deformed body? My crippled body? My addicted body? My ever-expanding body? The word may be different, but the message is the same: These bodies are weak. They began decaying the minute we began breathing.
And, according to God, that’s a part of the plan. Every wrinkle and every needle take us one step closer to the last step when Jesus will change our simple bodies into forever bodies. No pain. No depression. No sickness. No end.
This is not our forever house. It will serve for the time being. But there is nothing like the moment we enter his door.
From Traveling LIght
Copyright (W Publishing Group, 2001) Max Lucado