Saying Goodbye
There are too many goodbyes around me right now.
My parents' church is greatly responsible for who I am today. I grew up going to every single service there. I was led to Christ in that church. I made lifelong relationships with that church. I loved SO many things about that church.
But the person I most associate with that church is the meek and mild pastor who came there 27 years ago and SET IT ON FIRE spiritually. He led that church from a congregation of a few hundred when I was in 4th grade to something like 1600 a week now. Yesterday was his last sermon. (You can--and should--watch it here.) He's retiring :( And though I have been only a visitor in that church for 15 years, I am going to miss him. I wish I had the opportunity to review all his sermons. I wish I had learned Hebrew from him. This goodbye is not final, but it's hard.
Then one of my favorite people in the whole world just moved to Florida. She is one of those girls who brought out the best in me, loved me no matter what, and was strong where I was weak. She saw some of you crying in class when I was too busy teaching. She planned anything fun we ever did. (Any of you class of 2014 know her as Ms. Tonya :) I know she's just an 8-hour drive away--that I WILL make before the end of the summer--and that her phone still works in Florida. But that good-bye was hard, too. I wish I had spent more time talking and having coffee and learning how to be a good mom from her. This goodbye is also not final, but it's hard.
Last, and hardest, goodbye is this: my husband's grandmother died last night. She was one of the most amazing women of God I've ever known. I could tell you story after story of the ways she demonstrated sacrificial, ultimate love for people around her. She is one of the few people I've ever seen of whom I can say, "I never saw a sin in her." Seriously. No bitterness, no gossip, no deceit. She loved Jesus more than life, and when her body and mind had abandoned her, her soul still clung to Her Jesus. We know it, because when she couldn't make a complete thought or remember a single name, she could still say the words to Psalm 23. I wish I had gotten her to teach me how to sew and cook and grow things like she could. She was a master at many things my generation knows nothing about. This goodbye is also not final, but it's extremely hard.
Too many hard goodbyes.
Too many wishes.
But one word keeps coming to mind: HOPE.
Not the 2015 American version of hope. "I hope I get to go to prom." "I hope I get a scholarship to college." "I hope I make enough money this summer."
I mean hope like the Greek language defines it: elpis (pronounced el-PEACE).
Elpis comes from the word elpo, meaning "to anticipate, usually with expectation." Elpis means
My parents' church is greatly responsible for who I am today. I grew up going to every single service there. I was led to Christ in that church. I made lifelong relationships with that church. I loved SO many things about that church.
But the person I most associate with that church is the meek and mild pastor who came there 27 years ago and SET IT ON FIRE spiritually. He led that church from a congregation of a few hundred when I was in 4th grade to something like 1600 a week now. Yesterday was his last sermon. (You can--and should--watch it here.) He's retiring :( And though I have been only a visitor in that church for 15 years, I am going to miss him. I wish I had the opportunity to review all his sermons. I wish I had learned Hebrew from him. This goodbye is not final, but it's hard.
Then one of my favorite people in the whole world just moved to Florida. She is one of those girls who brought out the best in me, loved me no matter what, and was strong where I was weak. She saw some of you crying in class when I was too busy teaching. She planned anything fun we ever did. (Any of you class of 2014 know her as Ms. Tonya :) I know she's just an 8-hour drive away--that I WILL make before the end of the summer--and that her phone still works in Florida. But that good-bye was hard, too. I wish I had spent more time talking and having coffee and learning how to be a good mom from her. This goodbye is also not final, but it's hard.
Last, and hardest, goodbye is this: my husband's grandmother died last night. She was one of the most amazing women of God I've ever known. I could tell you story after story of the ways she demonstrated sacrificial, ultimate love for people around her. She is one of the few people I've ever seen of whom I can say, "I never saw a sin in her." Seriously. No bitterness, no gossip, no deceit. She loved Jesus more than life, and when her body and mind had abandoned her, her soul still clung to Her Jesus. We know it, because when she couldn't make a complete thought or remember a single name, she could still say the words to Psalm 23. I wish I had gotten her to teach me how to sew and cook and grow things like she could. She was a master at many things my generation knows nothing about. This goodbye is also not final, but it's extremely hard.
Too many hard goodbyes.
Too many wishes.
But one word keeps coming to mind: HOPE.
Not the 2015 American version of hope. "I hope I get to go to prom." "I hope I get a scholarship to college." "I hope I make enough money this summer."
I mean hope like the Greek language defines it: elpis (pronounced el-PEACE).
Elpis comes from the word elpo, meaning "to anticipate, usually with expectation." Elpis means
- the expectation of good
- joyful and confident expectation of eternal salvation
- expectation of what is certain
- confidence in what is to come
Paul used the word elpis when he called out, "Brethren, I am a Pharisee, a son of Pharisees; I am on trial for the hope and resurrection of the dead!" (Acts 23:6). He hoped that the dead were alive.
Specifically, Jesus.
Additionally, everyone who dies in Him.
Himself included.
And it is because of that elpis that my three goodbyes are not final. Because I anticipate with expectation that I will see all of them again. Maybe in my hometown. Maybe in Florida. Definitely in heaven.
That's hope. KNOWING that goodbyes are not final for those who have salvation through Jesus.
How can I know it? It's HOPE, right? Aren't I just hoping it will happen?
Nope. That's the American 2015 definition. I'm going Greek elpsis here.
"For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees?" (Romans 8:24).
It's not elpis hope if you can see it with your eyes. I don't have to hope that I have clothes to wear and food to eat. I don't hope for rain when I see the storm clouds forming overhead.
Hope has no sight; instead, it requires faith. And we see this same promise at the end of the Love Chapter (1 Corinthians 13) that says, "For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known," (verse 12). In heaven we won't need hope; we'll see Jesus. He is the fulfillment of all that we are promised in scripture: love, promise, eternity. Your hope will turn to sight when you leave this world and enter "life that is truly life," (1 Timothy 6:19).
And God's Word gives us hope! "For whatever was written in earlier times was written for our instruction, so that through perseverance and the encouragement of the scriptures we might have hope," (Romans 15:4).
Wishing (as I did in every one of my goodbyes) forces us to look back.
Hope helps us look forward. With confidence. IN ETERNITY.
You've got some goodbyes coming. Maybe not all at once, like I have. But soon. And they will hit you like ton of bricks. And you'll do like me, saying, "I wish I had..."
But let me challenge you, instead, to hope. To have confidence not only that Christ is with you through your goodbyes, but FOREVER.
Some of you really need extra hope today. Please know I am here to dish it out :)
@leslienotebook
myleslienotebook@gmail.com
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