| "GOOD-BYE" IS IN REALITY
A "SEE YOU TOMORROW." By Erwin Bourne Last night Jean and I took the luxury of a long-distance phone call to Alaska to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to our youngest son, Gale, age 38. Upon hearing his voice from across the globe, we could visualize him in his huge log house that he built near the community of North Pole, Alaska. There was a time I said, “You can’t pull me out of Alaska with a D8 caterpillar.” Yet God’s will is preeminent to my ambitions. So in the mañanita of the 12th, Jean and I relaxed on the riverfront veranda of the Casa Grande, Colombia, South America. We are totally at home here in Amazonas. As the early fog evaporates from the Amazon River, we have prayer for our five children and 25 grandchildren on another frontier, and we pray for the AMA pastors scattered far up and down the Amazon. No statement is as confusing or frightening as the one in Matthew 19:29. “And everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life.” It is easy to parallel discipleship with poverty or public disgrace, but leaving my family? Why do I have to be willing to leave those I love? Can sacrifice be any more sacrificial than that? Here’s how Max Lucado describes it: “Mary is older now. The hair at her temples is gray. Wrinkles have replaced her youthful skin. Her hands are calloused. She has raised a houseful of children. And now she beholds the crucifixion of her firstborn. “One wonders what memories she conjures up as she witnesses his torture. The long ride to Bethlehem, perhaps. A baby’s bed made from cow’s hay. Fugitives in Egypt. At home in Nazareth. Panic in Jerusalem. “I thought he was with you!” Carpentry lessons. Dinner table laughter. “And then the morning Jesus came in early from the shop, his eyes firmer, his voice more direct. He had heard the news. ‘John is preaching in the desert.’ Her son took off his nail apron, dusted off his hands, and with one last look said good-bye to his mother. They both knew it would never be the same again. In that last look they shared a secret, the full extent of which was too painful to say aloud. “Mary learned that day the heartache that comes from saying good-bye. From then on she was to love her son from a distance; on the edge of a crowd, outside of a packed house, on the shore of the sea. Maybe she was there when the enigmatic promise was made, ‘Anyone who has left…mother…for my sake.’ ” In fact, it seems that Good-bye is a word all too prevalent in the Christian world. Missionaries know it well. Those who send them know it, too. The doctor who leaves the city to work in a jungle hospital has said it. So has the Bible translator who lives far from home. Those who feed the hungry, who teach the lost, those who help the poor all know the word goodbye. Airports. Luggage. Embraces. Taillights. “Wave to Grandma.” Tears. Bus terminals. Ship docks. “Good bye, Daddy.” Tight throats. Ticket counters. Misty eyes. “Write me!” What kind of God would put people through such agony? What kind of God would give you families and then ask you to leave them? What kind of God would give you friends and then ask you to say good-bye? Answer: A God who knows that we are only pilgrims and that eternity is so close that any “Good-bye” is in reality a “See you tomorrow.” by Erwin Bourne, <Outreach_amazon@yahoo.com>
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