Echoes of Eternity

I’m not going to lie, this has been a hard week for us. Sunday morning we found out that fellow missionaries, and friends of ours, “lost” their little girl.

 Giovanna was born in the Dominican Republic with a heart condition 19 months earlier. And we, along with many others, donated funds and other resources in an effort to get her to the States for a costly and difficult operation. It was a worthy investment. The operation was successful. Then, this Sunday, she passed away.

Neither Ashley nor I had been to a child’s funeral before, and this was our first funeral in the Dominican Republic too.  The viewing is the same day as the passing, and the burials are typically within 24 hours of the person’s passing. During the burial, I translated for two different speakers. The following night at her memorial service, I translated for four different speakers. None of this was easy for me; it’s hard to speak while choking on tears. We prayed and wept often during the days that followed.

At the same time, my sister arrived from Uruguay to be with us during that same week. She had gone to a conference in Honduras and on her way through, she stopped by to spend a week with us here in the DR. We hadn’t seen her in over three years! It was great to let her tour our ministries and favorite places. We loved spending time together with her.

The sad tears for Giovanna’s passing were soon mingling with the happy laughter of being with my sister again. And life is like that sometimes. There is both sorrow and laughter involved. Yet there is something in us that knows that it shouldn’t be like this.

Thankfully, right now, things are this way, we have a capacity for sorrow and joy. Our tears are a valve for us to relieve some of the stress of grief; they are an outlet for emotional expression. But although we appreciate them, we do not enjoy them. We know that this is not the way things should be.

The echoes of eternity resound loudly in our hearts. We know that there needs to be more to life than what we have at the moment. Saying goodbye to Giovanna was so hard, and eventually we had to say goodbye to my sister, after dropping her off at the airport. Once again, the tears were there and again, it was extremely hard to say goodbye. As a Missionary Kid who’s spent most of his life traveling, I’ve had to say goodbye for more than my fair share: and it’s not gotten easier. It never will – not in this life, anyway.

Those echoes of eternity seem to ring loudest when we have to say goodbye because we know that we were never created for goodbye. Mortality is a terminal disease that affects us all, and although you can live your life any way you choose, you know that you can only live it once.

Right now we may have to grieve, but we do not grieve as those without hope (I Thess. 4:13). Instead, we look forward to Heaven knowing we’ll never have to say goodbye again. Why? Because our hope is built on nothing less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness. Or, as the text tells us: For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep in Jesus (I Thess. 4:14).

But the text continues and at the end of I Thessalonians 4; it exhorts us to encourage one another with talk of Heaven.  So please be encouraged by these words and set your heart on home – because Heaven is right around the corner! Peter tells us that we are sojourners in this land. In other words, just passing through. Heaven is our home. “And though you have not seen Him, you love Him, and thought you do not see Him now, but believe in Him, you greatly rejoice with joy inexpressible…” (I Pet. 1:8). We have authentic hope even in our grief. We also have great joy even in our limitations.

We talk about Heaven being so far away.

It is within speaking distance to those who belong there.

(D.L. Moody)

           Picture below: Us with Carter's sister (Abigail)