Coming Back

I wonder if we have forgotten that Jesus is coming back.

We sure don't talk about it much, except in terms of a, "Yeah, yeah, someday" sort of way.

I wonder sometimes if we even care.

I think about it a lot.  I thought about it today.  Twice.

I watched a short video in church this morning, about a little boy in the slums of Nairobi, Kenya.  His name was Omondi.  He wanted to be a pilot, so he could fly far away, away from the hunger and suffering, away from the AIDS, away from the dirt and the filth, to a place where he could walk on bare feet through green fields and clean streams, to a place where there was no illness, no suffering, no hunger, to a place where he wouldn't need to accept charity, and where all people would be treated with equality and fairness, to a place where kids would play with him and not fear the AIDS that lurked in his own young veins, and where he could hug and kiss and love his parents, who had already succumbed to that disease.  (You can watch his story here until June 9.) 

My heart wept for Omondi, not because he had AIDS, or because he was hungry and alone and afraid, although all those things are certainly reasons to weep.  No, my heart wept for him because the place he is looking for can't be reached by plane, no matter how far he flies.  We can rescue little Omondi from his world of hunger and squalour and make his dream of becoming a pilot come true, and he will never find his dream.  What he is dreaming for isn't found here in this broken world of sin -- it will only be found when Jesus comes back.

But I wonder if we've forgotten that.

I thought about it when we celebrated Communion this morning.  "Do this until Christ returns," 1 Cornithians 15 says, and we gulp down the little wafer and the little swig of juice, and we carry on with our plans for today.  The Jews have a wonderful tradition when they celebrate Passover.  When they drink the cup, they say, "Next year in Jerusalem."  It signifies their desire to be in the land, the Promised Land.  What if we thought about saying, "Next time in the New Jerusalem"?  Just think about it . . . the next time we celebrate Communion, it could be on the New Earth, under the New Heavens, with Jesus himself serving the wine.

But I wonder if we've forgotten that.

I wonder sometimes if we even want him to return.

Or if we secretly or not so secretly think that might mess up our plans.  But I have a soccer game planned for this afternoon.  I have a cake in the oven.  What about my graduation? Or my wedding?  Or seeing my grandchild born?  I wonder if we really want him to return, or if we hope that he'll come back "someday", "later", "eventually", but not right now.  I wonder if we still pray for Jesus to come back.  I mean, really pray, fervently pray, pray with everything in us, "Jesus, could it be next time in the New Jerusalem?"  Or if we are too busy making Omondi's dream of becoming a pilot come true that we forget that his deeper dream, the dream that really matters, will only come true when Jesus returns?

Don't get me wrong.  I'm not saying we shouldn't help the Omondis of the world.  We should.  Every day that Jesus tarries is a day for us to be working great good in his name.  Perish the thought that we not only forget that he is returning, but we also do nothing in the meantime to alleviate the suffering of the world.  But unless we remember that Jesus is returning the work we do now will only lead to discouragement.  Because Omondi will become a pilot and fly his whole life only to discover that his dream world doesn't exist under the sun.  Vanity of vanities, unless we do it in light of Jesus' return.

I wonder if we've forgotten that he's coming back.

I wonder what it will take to make us remember.  What will it take to make us long with every beat of our heart for him to return?  How bad will it need to be?  Is it not enough to see the suffering of the world?  Are we so selfish we would wish him to tarry while millions starve, die of AIDS, are blown to pieces in war, are crushed under falling buildings in earthquakes, mudslides, and tsunamis?  Is it not enough to watch our own suffer with sickness, grief, abuse, brokenness?  Can we really look at the wretched suffering of this broken world and hope he waits until our children grow up?

I wonder if we've forgotten that Jesus is coming back.

I hope not.  I really hope not.  But sometimes I wonder.

The last words of the Bible are, "He who testifies to these things says, 'Yes, I am coming soon.' Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.  The grace of the Lord Jesus be with God's people. Amen."

Jesus hasn't forgotten that he's coming back.

I hope it happens soon.  Next time in the New Jerusalem would be pretty awesome.

I can't wait to see him.