FLIGHT RISK

Listen! I will tell you a mystery. We will not all sleep but we will all be changed. In a flash, in a twinkling of an eye at the last trumpet, the trumpet will sound and the dead will be raised imperishable and we will be changed.                                                                      I Corinthians 15:51,52

Don’t count on me. I might—make that I’m gonna—skip out on you. You can count on me doing my best as long as I’m here—but don’t count on me being here.

I’m a certified, dyed-in-the-wool flight risk.

What would happen if I stood before a judge and said that? I don’t have money for the bond he’d jack up on me, if he gave me any bond at all.

But my whole penalty is paid, my whole sentence already served. I’ve got a ticket to ride, debt-free and clear, bought and paid for and given to me.

This world is not my home. When my Father comes to get me, there’s nothing stopping him (not even that earthly judge’s jail cell) from taking this born-again flight risk outta here, all the way to the Home He’s building for me.

Ain’t workin’ no notice, either! Don’t count on me. I’m outta here.

But you know who you can count on? The One who’s coming to take me to my real Home, the God of all Creation.

What will it be like to fly with You, Avi? And without a plane!

When I went for a glider ride, the pilot put me in the front seat, nothing between me and the open sky but the glider’s nose and the tail of the tow plane at the other end of a heavy yellow rope. (No fear; I knew You wouldn’t drop me.) Then the pilot told me to pull the yellow handle and we were free, soaring through the clouds, looking down as we left this world behind, looking up and wondering how far it was to Home.

Time too short. I wanted to stay up there, going higher and higher.

But that little flight memory can’t compare to the reality when You come for us and we taste true freedom, flying with You into Eternity, Home at last. 

Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

In Your Holy Name, Amen.