"I Will Be Back"
Willie Hucks
Whenever we have the opportunity, my wife and I go walking on the trail that runs not too far from our home. This gives us one of the few opportunities for some quiet time away from everyone and everything else. Our two children, ages 14 and 10, sometimes accompany us, but that is the exception rather than the rule.
On a recent walk both my wife and I forgot to bring our cell phones, and our absence seemed to be longer than our children anticipated. Upon arriving home our daughter exclaimed, "Where were you? I thought you would have been home by now, and we were worried about you."
"Why were you worrying?" I asked. "I told you we'd be back when we finished our route." It didn't seem a long wait to me; but it was much longer than my daughter anticipated.
About a week later, my wife and I took a different trail that required about the same amount of time. Toward the end of the walk, it started raining. We had hoped to get back home before the rain started falling more heavily--but to no avail.
When we finally arrived home--drenching wet--our children ran to hug us more tightly than normal. "We were so worried we started praying that you would be all right, and would get home safely and soon."
The disciples probably wanted to hug Jesus more tightly than normal--not because He had just arrived safely, but because He was about to leave. They spent 3 ½ of the best years of their lives with Him, and they could not bear the thought of their time with Him coming to an end. Yes, He warned them that this day was coming, but in this case, reality was worse than the anticipation.
As Jesus ascended, they looked intently upward--until they couldn't see Him any longer. Suddenly, two men appeared to them, speaking these words: "Men of Galilee, why do you stand here looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven" (Acts 1:11, NIV).
As the disciples reflected on these words, so many memories flooded their thoughts. So many sayings that Jesus shared with them began to make more sense. One of those sayings Jesus had told them only six weeks earlier: "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back [emphasis supplied] and take you to be with me, that you also may be where I am" (John 14:1--3, NIV).
When I was a child, I had a vivid imagination about the Second Coming. I looked at artists' portrayals in books and magazines and longed earnestly for that day. At home and at church we enjoyed singing hymns that reminded us of His return. For instance, we sang songs like "Lift up the trumpet," "Lo! He comes," and "We Know Not the Hour." I could see crisscrossing streets of gold, leading from one part of the New Jerusalem to another, with multi-story mansions neatly dotting the landscape. My parents shared their mansion; but I had one all my own--not too far from theirs, but still several blocks away. I took Jesus' promise personally when He said, "I go to prepare a place for you." I wasn't too particular about what all He was going to place inside it. I just wanted a really nice home that I could call my very own.
Lest I sound selfish, I hoped that He would make other homes just as nice for everyone else who would make it to heaven. In my mind's eye I could see angels busily working in unison, constructing row after row of beautiful homes, with plush green carpet-like lawns surrounding each one. I was so happy to think that they would expend so much energy just for me--fulfilling God's promise that He would prepare a place for me.
Off in the distance was the River of Life, gently winding its way through the city. Farther off in the distance was the throne of God, where, on a daily basis, my guardian angel and I would travel--just to fall at the feet of the Father and Son, and sing "Holy, Holy, Holy."
Unfortunately, from time to time ever since then, the happenings of life obstruct my view of Christ's return. But my children's inquiries about the events of Revelation 19--22 serve as a healthy reminder to view the "not yet." Their questions motivate me to ponder His return.
Jesus described His return while answering some inquiries of His disciples. He said of those who are on the earth at that time, "They will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of the sky with power and great glory" (Matt. 24:30, NASB). What descriptive terms. Power! Great glory! Power isn't something Jesus appeared to have while He walked on earth as a human. In fact, the last time some people saw Him He was being mercilessly beaten, and He didn't fight back. He didn't seem to have great glory, either--or any glory, for that matter. Isaiah prophesied of Him, "He has no stately form or majesty that we should look upon Him, nor appearance that we should be attracted to Him" (Isa. 53:2, NASB).
But look at Him now! Riding on the clouds, surrounded by all the heavenly hosts. I can see Him--not wearing a crown of thorns, but a shining diadem. Not wearing that purple robe (John 19:5), but a bright robe of splendor. John the Revelator calls Him "Faithful and True" (Rev. 19:11), and He bears the title, "King of kings, and Lord of lords" (Rev. 19:16). There can be no doubt that to Him belongs victory--and that victory also belongs to all those who have been eternally washed in the blood.
I can hear the blasts of countless trumpets (Matt. 24:31) announcing His return. What a marvelous serenade! The same angels who announced His first coming with song now add an instrumental encore to announce His second coming.
Yet I fear that some react to the Second Coming as though it were a fable--something accepted in theory but not anticipated in reality. The cares of life may have snuffed out our vivid imagination. Indeed from time to time we find ourselves longing for His coming--like when we lose a loved one to death, or when we receive word that a friend has just been diagnosed with a terminal illness, or when the stresses of daily living overwhelm us. But my concern centers on the fact that we don't preach or hear these words of hope from the pulpit like we once did. We don't sing the old songs of hope like we once did. Songs with words like,
"Face to face with Christ my Savior, Face to face, what will it be,
When with rapture I behold Him, Jesus Christ, who died for me?"
Face to face shall I behold Him, Far beyond the starry sky;
Face to face in all His glory I shall see Him by and by!"
Or songs with words like,
"It may be at morn, when the day is awaking,
When sunlight through darkness and shadow is breaking,
That Jesus will come in the fullness of glory
To receive from the world His own."
O Lord Jesus, how long Ere we shout the glad song?
Christ returneth, Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Amen,
Hallelujah! Amen.
Or songs with words like,
"'Tis almost time for the Lord to come, I hear the people say;
The stars of heaven are growing dim, It must be the breaking of the day."
O it must be the breaking of the day! O it must be the breaking of the day!
The night is almost gone, The day is coming on;
O it must be the breaking of the day!"
I fear that as a result of our now-dulled imaginations we are spiritually shriveling--shriveling because we've lost all hope. It's easy for us to lose hope when we have no words of hope; that is, when we fail to ponder God's words of hope.
The apostle Paul said, "We are saved by hope" (Romans 8:24). And it's a good thing that we can always cling to hope; for we live in a world that so often appears to leave us hopeless. Virtually every part of our globe is being touched by wars and other conflicts. Some parts of the world have been severely affected by floods, while others experience crippling, debilitating droughts. And all too recently we have been reminded that tragedy strikes even in the most unexpected of places--in classrooms, scarring (at best) innocent children.
Who among us hasn't experienced the death of a hope, a dream--sometimes through no fault of our own? Who among us hasn't cried in the midnight hour because of sickness or death--be it our own sickness, or the sickness or death of a loved one or friend? I imagine we all know someone who has worked a lifetime, and has accumulated a lifetime of God-given blessings--only to see nature's fury sweep them all away in but a moment.
Who among us hasn't witnessed, to some degree, the harsh overreach of an unjust or just plain hypocritical government--either ruling with an iron fist, or giving the appearance of caring and compassion; when, in fact, every action is determined by its own petty, self-serving agenda? So often that government looks out only for itself and/or the elite among them--while ultimately overlooking the least among them.
Where is the hope? Where is the remedy for everything that ails in this world?
Today, it's time for us to rekindle that hope. And right now I am indeed reminded of yet another song, sung at many Adventist global convocations throughout the years:
"We have this hope that burns within our hearts, Hope in the coming of the Lord.
We have this faith that Christ alone imparts, Faith in the promise of His Word.
We believe the time is here, When the nations far and near
Shall awake, and shout, and sing--Hallelujah! Christ is King!
We have this hope that burns within our hearts, Hope in the coming of the Lord."
On yet another occasion, after an extended day of office and other activities, I said to my wife, "I'll be back later." She knew that meant that I was about to go walking. My son overheard the comment, and immediately protested. Do you have to go walking? I don't want you to go walking." My son would rather I stay home and play with him instead of going walking. He dislikes it even more when I go walking at night. "Yes," I responded. "But I'll back within forty-five minutes." At that moment his only hope is that he hasn't fallen asleep before I return. Sometimes I return home so late that he has fallen asleep. But when the morning comes, I make sure that I am there--by his bedside--to wake him up and make sure that mine is the first face he sees.
But there are also those occasions when he doesn't fall asleep, and those forty-five minutes are just about up, I see him peering through the living room windows, waving at me as I approach the house. It may be nighttime outside; but all of a sudden, life has just gotten brighter.
Some of our church members have fallen asleep, and need to be awakened. It may well be that some of us as pastors, administrators, and other church leaders have fallen asleep. But as Paul wrote to the Romans, it is "high time to awake out of sleep" (Romans 13:11); because "the night is far spent, the day is at hand" (v.12).
There are many who are still wide awake, still keeping their lamps trimmed and burning, waiting for their Lord's returning. I know we've been preaching this message for about 150 years; and people are tempted to say, "Where is the promise of His coming?" (2 Pet. 3:4).
But if you allow me to borrow the sentiments of the songwriter, do we see the gleams of the golden morning piercing through this night of gloom? Indeed that golden morning is fast approaching--that day in which Jesus will take His faithful and happy children to their promised home.
The message of the Second Coming sometimes seems to be a message that has fallen out of favor--I'm not quite sure why. It seems easier, and more convenient, to preach sermons that solely address life in the here-and-now. And such sermons, appropriate for the setting, are necessary. But let us never forget that there is indeed
"a land that is fairer than day, and by faith we can see it afar;
For the Father waits over the way, to prepare us a dwelling place there."
I cannot close without an appeal. We are the leaders whom God has appointed to lead this, His Church, forward, right here and right now. For so many in the family of God, we set the tone and lead the way. When we leave this place and go our separate ways, what will our message be? We are Seventh-day ADVENTISTS. We believe in the imminent return of our Lord and Savior. Paul said that he determined not to know anything except Jesus Christ crucified (1 Cor. 2:2). Let me be bold enough to add that in 2006 we also need to determine to not know anything else except Jesus crucified, delivering from sin and the evils of this world, and coming back to take us home with Him.
Like Abraham, I am looking for a city whose builder and maker is God (Heb. 11:10). Like the ancients, I desire a better country, a heavenly one, that God is preparing for me (Heb. 11:16).
Let us talk about it in our homes. Let us preach about it from our pulpits. Let us sing about it in our choirs and congregations. Why? Because if Jesus said it, it has to be true: "If I go away, I will come back and take you to be with me, that you also may be where I am" (John 14:1--3, NIV).
Do you accept this challenge? Then stand with me as I pray.
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