The first is Jim-Bob. He jokes and joshes, but mostly in a land of thick fog, feeling his way across the landscape, sometimes bumping into things and people. A bleak and sometimes cheerless outlook, though many friends hover over him with laughter, love and understanding.
The other husband is James the Bright, and as he climbs above the fog on the mountain ridge, he sees clearly—especially the long trail that extends back to childhood days. He can name the influencers in his life—Linnea Soderberg who taught him to play the organ; his six years at Roxbury Latin School where his first assignment was to memorize the Lord’s Prayer in Latin; Wheaton College where the course of his life—preaching and teaching—was determined. He also picked up a wife and son there. After Fuller Seminary, he settled at West Congregational Church and collected more friends who have loved and cared for him over the 58 years since then. AND he maintains a clear-eyed view of the Bible.
Life with two husbands grows more interesting every day. Dementia is no small challenge! But isn’t this a paradigm or metaphor of Real Life? We shuffle our way through dark and light with all its mistakes and stupidities until we break through the clouds into the Everlasting Light and Presence of our glorious God. And even in our days of darkness, we sometimes catch glimpses of that other world.
A dear friend once had a clear vision of Jesus. “I saw Joy deep in His eyes, a Joy that was blithe, untroubled, and unperturbed by the goings-on of this planet. He knows how it will all work out—for me and for 7 billion others. As He walks away, He turns with a joyous smile and beckons with His hand; “Come on! I’m not worried, and you’re with ME.”
Me ‘n Jim-Bob and James the Bright: In all our dimness, we’re on the cusp of this glorious, joyous future.
WE FEAR NOT.
Had to get assorted permissions for this one, but I felt it important to keeping us focused in the right direction. Where has Jesus shown up in your dimness? Please tell me your stories. Comment below, or email@example.com