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Tuesday, July 31, 2012

The Last Hour


                One hour remains, and we are at the gate. The journey that we have undertaken this last year or so now comes to its pivotal point. One hour, and then we will say farewell to the soil of our homeland. In this moment, as I sit here among team members (quickly becoming dear friends), I pause and reflect on the various pivotal moments of my life. Though my eyes are weary and my stomach has not been very understanding of the situation, I have great peace. Despite initial worries over my wife’s health, and concurrent worries of the health of our team once we’ve reached our destination, I have peace. There is a quietness that covers my spirit, and it draws my mind into its contemplative mode.

                I wonder how many similar events you have had in your own life; I suppose there are many possibilities besides moving to another country. I can think of a few that have happened to me in recent years. I remember the moments I spent prior to dressing for graduation. I remember the hour in which I sat in the solitude of a choir room before exchanging vows with my bride. I remember the final words, the final tears, and the final embraces, of many individuals with whom I must now part ways for a time. Perhaps you have, by this time, thought of a few such instances in your own life.

                As you and I reflect on such moments, my mind begins to wonder about the experiences of another person’s last hour. I think of the words he spoke to those closest to him, knowing that he was about to leave them and return to where he had come from. I think of the last moments he had to meditate upon all that he was about to do. I wonder about the thoughts he had, if there were any hesitations or strong feelings of anxiety. I wonder if he, like I have been doing lately, gathered memories in his mind of all the wondrous experiences he had with those whom he loved.  Did he think back upon the miracles, the parables, the exchanges with lowlifes and religious zealots alike—did he think back upon the way he had touched each one of them?

                Then I imagine what he was looking ahead to. And it’s hard. It was hard for his followers, his family, his friends. Surely it must have been hard for him. But there had to have been a point in which he hesitated no longer, a moment in which he no longer asked for another way. There had to be a point in which he committed himself to his task; in that precious hour, when he knew all else would desert him, and he knew that the masses would mock him, and he knew that the nations throughout history would scorn him, he arrived at the haven of peace. Fully resigned to his course, he surrendered himself to the command of his father. 

And now, in this “last hour” of mine, I imagine him thinking of me in his.

                I believe there was a hope that possessed him, once he had fully resigned himself to the will of the one who sent him. And I believe that the same hope is now possessing me. I hope that it will also possess each of you.

                May we always know that we are never without an advocate on our behalf, one who can empathize with us in every trial, and at every turning point and juncture in our lives. May we recall every “stone of remembrance” that he has given us. And may we hold fast to the same, living hope in which he placed himself, and may we be fully resigned to the greatest cause in the universe.


 Maranatha.


-Ryan

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