21
God’s Best Is Yet to Come
The Mississippi trip was to visit a church that had long supported Martin and me during our Philippine work. The kids and I arrived on a Saturday, in time to have supper with Reverend Edward A. Hartman and his family. I didn’t know them well, although we knew that this remarkable man and his first wife, Amy, were the parents of four little “stairstep” children when she began having headaches. She died about a year later of brain cancer.
I had been told that several months before Amy died, she stopped by the local florist and examined several prepared funeral arrangements. She frowned when she read the various cards attached because they were so depressing. She began thumbing through other cards on display, eventually pulling one out and laying it on the counter. “This is the one I want on my flowers,” she announced.
Three months later, at her memorial service, all the flowers at the church and graveside bore the identical card: Welcome to your new home. Martin and I marveled at the strength of these two as they faced this trial in their lives.
Reverend Hartman is now remarried—a wonderful story that I won’t take time to tell.
But my visit in this home was unique in two ways. First of all, this pastor knew what I had been through in losing a mate. Second, he took extra time to talk with me and encourage me. Normally when I go somewhere to speak in a church, I arrive a few minutes before the service begins, the pastor leads in a short prayer in his office, and I’m on! This was different.
After the meal, my kids and the Hartman kids headed off to a different part of the house, and we adults began to talk. The inevitable question arose: “How are you doing?”
I gave my stock reply: “Great. The kids are doing well. I’m doing fine. I think people must be praying for us because things are going so well.”
Reverend Hartman then followed up by asking, “What are your plans?”
I hate that question. All I know to say is, well, I plan on raising my kids—and then??? I don’t know. I came home from the Philippines to raise my kids, and then I’m done. I can die happy.
“No dreams for yourself?” he prodded.
“No, not really,” I admitted. “I kind of feel like the best of life is over for me. I’ll do the best I can as a single mom, and God will show me after that.”
“Gracia,” Reverend Hartman said, “that’s not grace. Thinking the best is behind you, and you’re just going to trudge through life from now on . . . that’s all? Grace says, ‘“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the LORD. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope”’” (Jeremiah 29:11). Right there from his armchair after Saturday night supper, this man preached me a little sermon, ever so gently. He explained the grace of almighty God and how that grace says the best is yet to come.
I listened that night with thirsty ears, if there is such a thing. I am sure that others had said something along these lines to me before. I even remember a scrapbook my little sister, Mary, made for me while I was in captivity to keep herself busy—an alternative to worrying and fretting. The last page said in big letters:
THE BEGINNING
(Most people probably think this is the end, but they are wrong. I can’t wait to see how your new life turns out!)
This particular weekend, almost two years later, I heard those same words of encouragement from the right person at the right time—and something happened in my heart. I don’t remember all the Scriptures the pastor used that night or exactly what he said, but just being in his home where I could see the grace of God so clearly made me want to listen and keep listening. Awhile later, we called the kids into the front room so we could pray together before the evening broke up. Reverend Hartman led us in prayer, asking for God to continue to grace us with his love and blessing.
I left Mississippi that weekend with a gift, a book he had written back in 2001 entitled Homeward Bound: Preparing Your Family for Eternity. He inscribed it with a blue fountain pen:
To Gracia—The Best Is Yet to Come . . . Really!
EA Hartman Feb. 2004 Isaiah 40:11
Over the last few weeks, I have continued to mull over in my mind the idea of God’s grace. Who says the very best for you and me has come and gone? Satan says that. He says the best for you is over. He says, “You are helplessly trapped in this bad marriage, and it can never be fixed.” He says, “You don’t deserve this illness. You’ll just have to live with it and try to carry on till the end.” He says, “You can’t deal with these high demands that life is placing on you—why try?” He says, “Your child is totally out of control and it’s all your fault—he/she will never amount to anything.”
Grace, on the other hand, says, “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Corinthians 2:9). Grace says, “I will open the windows of heaven for you. I will pour out a blessing so great you won’t have enough room to take it in! Try it! Let me prove it to you!” (Malachi 3:10).
I have so often fallen into the trap of thinking that I’m going through life making decisions, and God is constantly critiquing me. “That was a good move,” he will say—or more often, “What did you do that for? You’ll never get it, will you?” I never feel like I quite measure up.
As we study Scripture, though, we see a different picture. “Since God did not spare even his own Son but gave him up for us all, won’t God, who gave us Christ, also give us everything else?” (Romans 8:32). “Do not be afraid or discouraged, for the LORD is the one who goes before you. He will be with you; he will neither fail you nor forsake you” (Deuteronomy 31:8).
Grace sets Christ walking along with us . . . a step ahead . . . leading the way . . . making sure everything that happens works together for our good and his glory.
Grace deals with those high demands in your life.
Grace makes that illness a shining triumph and grants peace as you go through it.
Grace says nothing is beyond repair.
Grace says, “The best is yet to come.”
I’m not talking about eternity. Of course, heaven is the ultimate best. But what I’m talking about is here on this earth.
I’m not talking about a handsome, dashing man for me.
I’m not saying you will be rich or have a perfect family.
I’m not saying your illness will go away.
I’m saying we are children of the King. If we know God, “he has rescued us from the one who rules in the kingdom of darkness, and he has brought us into the Kingdom of his dear Son” (Colossians 1:13). All things are new. Our worth now is based on grace, not on our situation or our accomplishments or lack thereof. We can allow ourselves to be loved as creatures made in God’s image, though our body is broken, our thoughts confused, and our emotions troubled. And we can start to become hopeful that life can still be good—with a capital G.
That is where I stand today: trusting God to make something of me . . . to grace me again. Just like he graced me when he saved me. When he let me live with Martin for nineteen years. When he kept me going through the jungle for more than fifty-three weeks. When he gave me people like you to love and pray for me still. His grace never ends. It is here for each of us now.
FREE! Discussion Guide for To Fly Again
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