Birthdays in Heaven

Do you think we celebrate birthdays in heaven?  Do we celebrate the day of our physical birth, spiritual birth, or conception?  Do we celebrate the day God imagined our days?  If birthdays are a way of marking our passage through time, how does that work out in eternity?

And do such mind games matter when what you really want is to celebrate the birthday on this earth, in this reality, at this time?  And isn't that, after all, why we celebrate birthdays...because we survived another year.  Because we are still together another year.  Because I still have you this year.

I am working on a sermon this week called A Day Submitted.  It is from the fourth chapter of James.  James is really giving the church a tongue lashing at this point regarding their treatment (or mis-treatment) of others.  He challenges their "control issues" by making the point, "You should know better than to say, "Today or tomorrow we will go into the city. We will do business there for a year and make a lot of money!" What do you know about tomorrow? How can you be so sure about your life? It is nothing more than mist that appears for only a little while before it disappears. You should say, "If the Lord lets us live, we will do these things.
          
I am trying to let this word challenge my schedule.  It has helped that I keep forgetting my calendar at home this week.

This prayer by Ken Gire has also helped: Forgive me, Lord, for being so concerned about my other commitments that I am unconcerned about my commitment to others. Help me to realize that so much of true ministry isn't what I schedule but what comes as an intrusion to my schedule. Keep my schedule flexible enough, Lord, so that when my path comes across someone in need, I would be quick to change my plans in preference to yours.

It has also helped that I am preparing for a wedding for a bride who won't have her mother there because her mother wasn't given another year on this earth.

It has also helped that I went to lunch to celebrate a friend's birthday...only she wasn't there because this year she celebrates at the Lord's table, at the wedding feast of the Lamb.

Which begs the question, do we celebrate birthdays in heaven? Maybe we celebrate the day we arrive home.

What do you know about tomorrow?
I know we make a lot of assumptions when we plan for it.  I don't think that's sinful.  But I don't think it's fruitful when we forget Who causes the sun to rise on our world, Who puts the breath in our lungs or the beat in our hearts.

Teach me to count the days...teach me to make the days count.

What would you do with one day left to live?  Not a very original question...it has been fodder for books, movies, blogs, songs.  What is moving is watching someone with one day left to live.

She brought them in, one at a time, and she told them how much she loved them.  She told them how much they meant to her, all she had learned from them, gained from them, grown from them.  She summoned strength from heaven knows where to wrap tired, thin limbs around each neck, to place dry, cracked lips on each cheek.  She spoke words that each of them needed to hear.  She knew her children needed her to say, "It will be okay.  I'll be with you.  I have everything worked out for you."  She knew her mother needed her to say, "Thank you.  I need you so much.  You taught me to be strong."  She knew her friends needed her to say, "I have loved being your friend.  Thank you for being mine."  She knew her pastor needed her to say, "I have learned so much from you.  Thank you for the faith you've taught me.  You have comforted me and my family so much."  She knew her husband needed her to say, "I love you.  You are my soul, my heart.  You have faithfully loved me, fought for me, done everything you could do.  I know I am loved by you."  How did she know to say all those things?  Because she lived all the days beforehand loving, listening, serving.

A few days before she died, she and I retold the story of Jesus's words to his friends the day before his death.  How he pulled them all around one table.  How he told them that he was praying for them, how proud he was of them...of all that they had done, of all that they would do.  He told them he wouldn't leave them, not really.  He told them he loved them.  He told them that if they ever struggled to remember, to celebrate this way:

Share a loaf of bread. 

 Remember the way he gave himself.  Remember the way he fed their hungry mouths, their hungry souls.  Remember the way he so easily brought up the nets, lifted their heads.  Share a loaf of bread...with each other. And then with someone hungrier.  And He would be right there.

Share a cup of wine. 

 Remember the way he poured himself out. Remember the way he gave water. Remember the way he redeemed water.  Remember the way he controlled the water, walked on water...trampled on fear.  Share a cup of juice...with each other.  And then with someone thirstier.  And He would be right there.
How did he know what they needed to hear?  Because he had been there, the day before and the day before that.
He was there when they decided to follow.  He was there when they turned away. He was there when childish imagination gave yield to adult anxiety. He was there when the first breath of oxygen was inhaled.  He was there when the first kick against warm womb was given. He was there when the first beat of the heart screamed LIFE! He was there then, loving, listening, serving.

Which leads me to think, He celebrates when we get home.  Who knows, maybe we celebrate lots of birthdays in heaven.  Maybe there are all kinds of "births" that God has noted in our book of days, proud of the passages we have braved, trusting the shepherd that has guided us through the valley of the shadow.  Jesus does make heaven sound like one huge celebration.

I guess I'll have to wait to find out.  And that's ok.  I have a lot to celebrate here in the mean time.