dream

Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.

I was once again contemplating the idea of eternity tonight when suddenly, I became aware the notes of this song were wafting through the air in my office.

I had to laugh.

Already, I see the heads nodding.

No, not in agreement with the humor I found in the juxtaposition of the old folk song alongside thoughts of eternity. Heads are nodding in the realization that it has finally happened. The idiot has finally snapped. Gone over the edge completely.

Why would one be contemplating eternity?

And, what in the world is funny about hearing a children’s song while contemplating such a peculiar subject?

Perhaps, we’ll consider just one thought at a time, okay?

I was an odd child, I will admit. At a very young age, I struggled internally with big ideas, while the everyday things went unnoticed. Perhaps all of us did, but I really can’t speak for anyone else. I know eternity was one concept with which I wrestled many times.

I would sit in church and sing the words of that last verse of John Newton’s Amazing Grace and I would be AWOL for the rest of the church service–lost deep in thought.

…Ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun…We’ve no less days…than when we’ve first begun.

How does that not mess with a kid’s head?

The idea of eternity terrified me. No, not the idea of Hell or Heaven—just the thought of a period of time that went on and on without ever ending.

To a child of seven or eight, the concept was as foreign as having all the ice cream you could ever consume and no one ever making you stop eating it.

Everything came to an end.

Church services ended with Amen. Cowboy movies ended with the hero riding off into the sunset. Trips in the car ended with us pulling up to Grandma’s house and piling out of the old station wagon. The school year ended with all the kids walking out and throwing their papers in the wind to cover the playground.

Everything came to an end. Everything.

I never thought to talk about it with a grown-up. This was too big, too–I don’t know–sacred. You didn’t talk about such things; you just grappled with them until you could move on. I think eventually, I just decided if the grown-ups in my life could face that terrifying endless and timeless uncertainty, so could I.

Besides, Jesus would be there. I wanted to be where He was.

As an adult, I still want to be there.

I have come to realize though, eternity is not only on the other side of that door we don’t want to talk about.

Eternity doesn’t begin with death. It didn’t even begin with our entry into this world at birth.

Funny thing–if I had known it back then, my mind might have been boggled even more than it was. The reality is, eternity works both ways–both backward and forward. How’s that for an enigma?

We live smack-dab in the middle of eternity! We’re not waiting for it. We’re not looking forward to it.

Eternity is now!

I’m not a kid anymore.

Today, I look to the future and I want to be sure I’ve done everything I can do with this little piece of eternity I’ve been given to work with, here in this place and time.

I’ll relocate to another neighborhood for the next part of it. But, right here–right now–I have things that must be accomplished before this part of the eternal timetable moves on and I am no longer able to do what needs to be done.

In some ways, I feel like Alice’s White Rabbit as he rushes about, terrified that he is late and will miss the very important date. Eternity is passing at a frighteningly rapid pace.

Those were the thoughts in my mind tonight as the little bit of doggerel we began our conversation with made its way into my consciousness. Talk about a dichotomy!

Life is but a dream.

The old children’s song lulls us to sleep, convincing us our lot in life is nothing more than a summer afternoon’s outing on the quiet stream. All work together, rowing in cadence with those around, and everything will come out just fine.

It almost seems apropos that the song is a round, the endless cycle sung repeatedly by all the voices, each one carrying on the hypnotic mantra, urging the boat’s occupants to move gently.

Don’t rock the boat! Don’t, for heaven’s sake, attempt to go upstream!

Happy, Happy, Happy!

I can just hear Phil Robertson’s (of Duck Dynasty) voice, calling out the words to keep the natives calm.

Life is but a dream?

Okay, perhaps I wasn’t really amused. It wasn’t funny ha-ha, just wildly inappropriate that the two ideas should occupy my brain at the same time.

I have noted recently that a number of my friends are attempting to slow down the pace of their lives. Don’t worry, be happy, say their notes. Jettison the things that stress you; do only the things which make you feel good; friends who make demands on you aren’t really friends, so dump them.

How can we live the dream when rude people keep waking us up?

But, you see–that’s just the trouble with dreams. You always wake up. Reality intrudes. They end. Just like everything in that seven year old’s world a lifetime ago.

Life isn’t a dream.

I’m kind of happy to know that it isn’t. I want to row upstream. I want to blaze paths where the placid stream doesn’t flow. And, eternity won’t wait; it just keeps moving through our lives, as it has for everyone else in all of recorded history.

Eternity won't wait. Time to wake up and get busy! Click To Tweet

Time to wake up and get busy!

I’ll take eternity, thanks.

As if you could kill time without wounding eternity!
(Henry David Thoreau ~ American philosopher/author ~ 1817-1862)

Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.
(Ecclesiastes 3:11 ~ NLT)

You’d think sitting in the seat of the bulldozer would be more comfortable.

The big man in front of me loves his work. All his life, he’s run machines—big, get-your-attention, powerful pieces of equipment. He has leveled mountains, and filled valleys, eliminating the vast differences between the two. Rotting, uninhabitable houses have been knocked over, and foundations built up for impressive new edifices.

Talk about influencers! In forty years, he has never left a work site in the same condition as when he arrived. Not once.

Hmmm. I’m not sure I said that exactly as I intended. If you re-read that last paragraph, you might actually think I was talking about the man not leaving in the same condition.

Funny how words work, isn’t it?

The site is never the same. It’s perfectly true. On some days, you wouldn’t recognize the parcel of land as the same location, it has been changed so much. Structures razed, boulders moved, trees uprooted—nothing remains untouched.

But, read what I said again. In forty years, he has never left a work site in the same condition as when he arrived.

I realize a grammarian would wish to speak of the ambiguous antecedent and direct me to clarify the sentence. I think I’ll leave it as stated.

No, I’m not just being stubborn. The thing is, both ways of reading the sentence will lead to a correct conclusion.

It is true the work site is always changed—every time he alights from the seat of his equipment.

But, it is also important to note that the man himself is affected—without fail—by the work he has done.

For you see, every bump, every dimple in the ground under that powerful machine he controls impacts him. Tossed from side to side by the motion of the dozer or grader, his back muscles stretch and contort, endeavoring to keep him upright in the seat.

Day after day, the up and down motion—the back and forth assault—the sudden jolts and sudden stops, all of them conspire to make him a different person.

He feels it—from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, he feels it—the influencer influenced and, on some days, the leveler leveled. Going home to lie down, he counts the bruises and sore spots.

Every time he walks away from a work site, he is changed. The work site is too.

Did I tell you he loves his job? He still does.

Do you want to change your world?

Prepare to be changed, yourself.

I will tell you, I have watched folks who were intent on impacting their world be folded, spindled, and mutilated. Some have recovered. Others surrender, giving up their dreams and, sometimes, even their faith.

I have seen friends working steadily—day after day, year after year—aware of the damage done to themselves, yet slogging on toward the finish line. Goodbyes, diseases, physical need—all take their toll, yet all they see is the vision.

If anyone told you it was easy, they lied.

Nearing the time of His own death, the Teacher told His followers openly of the coming trouble, trouble which would devastate them personally. Then He said a strange thing. It didn’t fit with the warning they were hearing.

I have told you about these things so you would be at peace. (John 16: 33a)

Wait! He told them about terrible things which were in their future and then claimed the words should inspire a calm spirit?

How does that make sense?

I sit and think. Warnings are intended to instill fear and respect for danger, not peace. Not calm.

But, in all that intense group of burly, seasoned men sitting around Him, I can’t imagine that at least one of them didn’t recall the storm they had been through as they crossed the sea in a fishing boat together some time before. (Mark 4:35-41)

With the lightning flashing and wind gusting, their Teacher had simply spoken three words.

Peace. Be still.

To the storm, He spoke those three words. To His followers, the ones being molded and affected by hardship—five were needed.

Why are you so afraid?

In that whole group of men who sat and listened on that night to the Teacher who would be Savior, right before the world fell in on them, do you suppose any of them missed His meaning? I doubt it.

In this world, while you are shaping and influencing it, you will be shaped and influenced. Don’t be terrified. I have overcome the world. (John 16:33b)

Do we attempt to change the world in which we live?

It will attempt to change us.

In subtle ways, regardless of how hard we try—despite our best intentions—it will change us.

It will hurt us. It hurt Him.

And yet, can we—just for one instant—can we consider the ultimate Influencer?

Greater. Greater than any influence in the world.

In us—still greater.

Change your world. For good, change your world.

And, don’t fret.

Peace. Rest.

You might fasten your seatbelt though.

The ride is likely to be a little bumpy.

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.
“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
(from The Fellowship of the Ring ~ J.R.R. Tolkien)

As you know, we count as blessed those who have persevered. You have heard of Job’s perseverance and have seen what the Lord finally brought about. The Lord is full of compassion and mercy.
(James 5:11 ~ NIV)

He's Taken Leave

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