I'm reminded of an idea that was pounded into my brain in college.
The idea that nothing I have here is really my own. I paid for these shoes, but they will wear and fade, but I will not. These glasses, this car, this guitar will burn at the end of days, but by the blood of Jesus I will escape the fire.
Our liquidator has been giving direction about our fixtures and our office furniture. Pricing and when to sell it, etc... So the room where I put down my coat and my water bottle Isn't my office anymore, and that's not my desk. That's no longer my bulletein board, it's the board where I hang stuff I might need to know later.
I've come to think rather fondly about MY warehouse, and MY back room. As if those were the things I poured myself into. But I didn't invest myself or my time into the space or the place or the things, but rather the people that made the space and place meaningful.
It's also interesting to live in this place where I know the end of my job is comming. Like spring or the return of a long awaited friend. I know it's comming, but all I can do is anticipate because I won't know until it's here.
It's made the now, but not yet aspect of the Gospel much more vivid to me. We are saved from our sins now, but we don't see that salvation until our death or Christ returns. Jesus is our Savior now, but we don't physically see him until later.
The idea that I am redeemed but I continue to live and work and breathe in world that is fallen.
It's hard to stand here in this gap and not feel hopeless. For my friends and co-workers, for myself. I don't know where I'm going, I only know that I will go somewhere. I don't know when, I only know that If I stay I get a bonus. There's no hope there, just more things that will fade with this world.
There is hope in Christ. That he will provide for me and that he will watch over my family. That he will use this experience to plant seeds into my co-workers. That he will return to redeem this long, lost world. That's the only thing that gets me out of bed anymore. Hope in Christ.
Where's your hope?