We Promise the Best is Yet to Come, but What if Tomorrow Holds Tragedy?

We sit in the middle of Holy Week. That place between enthusiastic Hosannas and the crucifixion of a friend and son, teacher and miracle worker. As if following the bullet across the stage of Hamilton, time slows down. This space encourages us to look around. Notice. To hear the whispers of unspoken anxiety, and dreams put on ice.

In this space, the disciples beckon me. I read the written word of Scripture. And I pencil in the unwritten emotions. Confusion. Hope. Distress. Love. All jumbled up together like atoms bouncing around under pressure. It really is no wonder the disciples fell asleep in the garden. Their eyelids certainly carried the exhaustion of their hearts.

I’m also thinking about a phrase that gets tossed around in Christian circles these days. In fact, I heard it this morning in a devotional. “The Best is Yet to Come.” But, in a world of cancer and car accidents, wars and heart attacks, what if tomorrow, or, perhaps tonight, the best is not to come? Where does that leave us?

Smack dab in the middle of Holy Week.

So, let me ask, at what point should we tell the disciples, “The best is yet to come?” While they huddled in fear after Jesus’ death? The resurrection certainly is amazing news, but for 3 years Jesus was a constant, physical presence, and he is about to leave them. Yes, Jesus’ ascension ushered in a new Presence, but, like babies on wobbly knees, did the disciples learn to walk with the Spirit? Just like us?

Should we tell them while they watch Steven stoned, or hear that James was beheaded? As Paul said in Acts 20:23, “I only know that in every city the Holy Spirit warns me that prison and hardships are facing me.”

Perhaps, nestled into the American Dream, we so desperately want “the best to come” because, at some level, we don’t believe heaven is better than what we have right now. Perhaps our understanding of what’s best is fundamentally flawed.

If any of this rings true to you, let’s flip the script. Together. Here is what I journaled this week:

Hardships are yet to come, but the best is already here. Merciful. Gracious. Love.

And when the worst hangs me out to dry upon the desert winds, I will trust Jesus’ love will hold me fast. In stark contrast to this often times brittle world, I know the bountiful love of Jesus will find me. The best is truly the Lord.

Father, Son and Holy Spirit, You are the best. Forgive me when I get this wrong.

Once we get this straight, then we are more apt to flourish in the desert. To hold out hope for grace and beauty enough for today. Like 2 loaves and 5 fish, to feast on God’s Word and be satisfied. So much so, that there are still basketfuls leftover.

PS – One more thing, look for the little desert flowers that daringly push their way through dried cracks. They are found tucked in sunsets and snuggles, a good cup of coffee and a good morning stretch. This is certain to bring a smile. And goodness knows we need them every day!

Pressing towards heaven with you!