I wonder if I brought salt…
I am driving in my car hoping I have everything I need to spend a few days at our camper. It takes one hour and fifteen minutes to get from my back door to the camper’s front door. How and why we have this camper on this lakefront rental site is a story too long to tell here. It is enough to review my annual mental conflict.
I should sell this thing. It’s more work than it’s worth. The rent is expensive and every year is laden with needed repair bills. I spend most of my time setting up and cleaning up. By the time I get it together I don’t have the time or energy to enjoy it.
BUT, I get there and a heron is fishing just a few feet from our deck. Something of my childhood stirs within me as I check the stack of firewood. The sparks from the campfire tonight will shoot high and as I follow the spark, I will see a star. God’s creation presses me to worship. Besides, in this economy no one will buy it for a fair price.
BUT, back to the salt… Why don’t I know if I left some there or have some with me? Am I getting forgetful or have I always been this disorganized? I can argue both views with the persuasion of a Yale attorney.
As I engage in this internal debate, I find my thoughts wandering to my final journey when I leave this body known as a tent and move into my eternal home. I smile as I remember that I won’t need to remember to bring anything.
Because of the scars on Jesus’ hands I can come home with empty hands.
My Dad’s favorite hymn fills my mind and heart. Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in Thee…Nothing in my hands I bring, simply to Thy cross I cling.*
What does arriving at heaven’s door empty handed mean to you?
*Rock of Ages, Cleft for Me
Text: Augustus M. Toplady
Music: Thomas Hastings