Sunday Devotional: Hard Pressed Between the Two

I miss my husband.

Lest anyone be alarmed—he’s alive and perfectly well. But we’ve been mostly separated for more than two years now, first because of a position he accepted in Afghanistan, and now because of a new job halfway across country. The good news is, we’re moving. I get to be with my husband again—soon. We’ll have the adventure of rediscovering life as a couple.

The bad news is, we’re moving. After 22 years of living in the same place, we’ll leave friends, a wonderful church, and half of our children. (The older ones, who are in college or newly married or desire to finish high school where they’re already established.)

Needless to say, I’m seriously conflicted. On one hand, my husband and I are weary of the long separation and we’re beyond ready to be back together. The kids have all missed their father as well. And the house we’ve found and are in the process of buying—it’s incredible. I can hardly believe we’d be blessed with a place like that. There’s also a church that has already welcomed my husband as one of their own and is praying for our move.

On the other hand ... the older kids, who still need their dad and I, but—don’t. This beautiful area with its history and culture that I finally feel like I’m beginning to understand. Friends who have walked with me through some of the darkest times of my life. A church with an amazing combination of solid Biblical teaching and vibrant, authentic worship.

I realized suddenly—the conflict I feel over this move is not unlike the one many believers feel about our eventual, permanent move to heaven. We know it’s going to be wonderful, but we can’t quite wrap our brains around how. We love God and we long to see Him face to face, to be free of the struggle of “seeing in a mirror dimly” (and as wonderful as modern technology is, Skype does not replace actually being with my husband), but there are those here that we love, who we may not be sure that we’ll see again, or who may still need us. Or maybe the timing just isn’t right. Some days I just feel stuck here, both in regards to the temporal move, and in my spiritual life, but ultimately I know that when God says it’s time, nothing on earth will hold me back from going. Conversely, until it’s time, nothing will hurry things along, either.

Each of us has a specific journey, a timetable that God already has mapped out. Parts of that journey drag with unbearable slowness, and then several things happen at once, with lightning swiftness. Nothing is ever guaranteed, except that the Lord is with us, He’s still working, and someday we will be with Him.

And though we can’t comprehend it—it will be glorious. The memory of our trials here on earth will fade by comparison. But in the meantime, we have things to do. Places to go. People to love.

This is my work while I wait. And God is in every moment, whether it happens quickly or not.

²¹ ... to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain. ²² But if I live on in the flesh, this will mean fruit from my labor; yet what I shall choose I cannot tell. ²³ For I am hard-pressed between the two, having a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better. ²⁴ Nevertheless to remain in the flesh is more needful for you. ²⁵ And being confident of this, I know that I shall remain and continue with you all for your progress and joy of faith, ²⁶ that your rejoicing for me may be more abundant in Jesus Christ by my coming to you again. (Philippians 1, NKJV)