That said, I can't wait for Game Over. I have a greater sense of purpose than ever before in my life, and I am convinced that God has work for me still to do, but my heart is with Paul when he says, "I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far, but it is more necessary [for one or two people] that I remain in the body" (Philippians 1:23-24).
Getting to see Jesus means that I can stop striving in half-darkness. 1 Corinthians 13 says that someday I will know as I am known, fully, face to face, not a dim glimpse in a foggy mirror. And I know that I will have failed him, come up short, but his love for me is compelling. I am not afraid to be found wanting--of course I will. That's why I am clothed in the righteousness of Christ; my own clothes are tattered.
I am like a child trying to keep a pillow fort together. When Jesus comes, I get to drop all of my blocks and attempts and run to him: "I am so glad you're here! I think I've really messed things up."
And he will set all things right: my heart, my thinking, the world, his church.
So, Lord, I'm going to get up again today, and I am going to try. And I will talk about you and seek your face and walk in your Spirit. But I am genuinely grateful that all of this is almost over. Come soon.
(The picture of the pillow fort I copied from Steve Ezra's blog. I didn't ask him; he's a Christian, so I hope he forgives me. This is me, bungling through life again. I also grabbed the sky photo from someone--I don't even have a credit for that one. Please come, Jesus. I am such a wreck.)
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