A few days ago, I woke up hearing thunder.  How strange, I thought.  The weather guys and girls on TV hadn’t said anything about rain being in the forecast.  Of course, my next thought was, “I guess they got it wrong, again.”  [For fun, say that last phrase out loud in Forrest Gump’s voice.] 

Then, I heard the thunder again.  Except this time, I was more awake.  And, being more alert, I could tell there was something a little bit different about the sound, something that didn’t quite match the sound of actual thunder.  Could it be?  Could it actually be the sound that we have all been anxiously waiting for? 

No, not the sound of Gabriel’s Trumpet signaling The Second Coming of Jesus.  But, uhm, that is a sound you have been anxiously waiting for, right?  The sound that marks the end of all of this life and this world as we have known it, and the beginning of Eternity – an Eternity that is going to be amazing far beyond what our feeble minds can even imagine for those who have been saved by the grace of God, and an Eternity we do not wish to even contemplate for those who have rejected God.  Isn’t the sound of The Trumpet exactly what we are praying to hear when we pray the last words of 1 Corinthians 16 – “Maranatha” - “Our Lord, Come!”; or when we encourage each other with the final words of The Bible – “The One who testifies to these things says, Yes, I am coming soon.  To which we say, Amen! Come, Lord Jesus!”?   

Perhaps we don’t pray those words enough?  Perhaps we don’t encourage each other with those words enough?  And perhaps the reason we don’t is that we really aren’t all that anxious to hear that final Trumpet blast?  Perhaps we have become so comfortable in this world that we have forgotten that we “are not of this world” [John 15:19]?  Perhaps we have forgotten that we are “strangers and pilgrims on the earth” [Hebrews 11:13]?  

Sorry about that.  Now, where were we? 

Oh yes, the sound we have all been anxiously waiting for.  Well, at least for a lot of us, the sound we have been anxiously waiting for is the sound of large tree limbs being dropped into the metal bin on the back of a big truck.  In other words, the sound we have been anxiously waiting for is the sound of hurricane debris finally being picked up. 

And yes, that was exactly what was happening!  No, these long-awaited workers were not actually on my street, and they still have not gotten to my street.  But, they are in my neighborhood!  And the thunder-like noise means that the work is being done, and that they are getting closer to my street.  Which means that they are getting closer to taking away the giant pile of debris that has been stacked in my yard for several weeks, which means it won’t be long before things are back to normal, or maybe sort-of normal, or maybe a new kind of normal.  At least, I think that’s what it means.

The sound of debris falling into the metal bin on the back of a big truck does sound like distant thunder.  At least it does to me.  And, as I listened to the sound, I started thinking of some of the words in an old Bob Seger song called “Night Moves”.  He starts the song re-living the freedom of his teenage years when he and his friends “were just young and restless and bored”.  But then, the song jumps to the present - “I woke last night to the sound of thunder; How far off, I sat and wondered; Started humming a song from 1962…Strange how the night moves – with autumn closin’ in.”

For some of us, these words ring true.  Our hearts tell us we’re still young; but our bodies tell us we aren’t young anymore.  We feel it as the easy ways we used to run and leap have become walking and sitting – even while our hearts are telling us that it’s too soon for this to happen.  Wasn’t it only yesterday that we were running and leaping?  I used to walk and carry my clubs for 36 holes of golf a day in the heat of summer; now, I’m worn out after riding for 18 holes on a cool day.

How far off is the thunder?  Autumn’s closing in.

Maybe all this is God’s way of reminding me that I shouldn’t cling too tightly to the things of this world – this world that I am in but not of, this world in which I am a stranger and a pilgrim.  The words of another song, one we used to sing in the church Youth Group, come to mind: “Soon, and very soon, we’re goin’ to see The King!  Hallelujah! Hallelujah!  We’re goin’ to see The King!” 

Amen!  Come, Lord Jesus!

Ambrose Ramsey | Shepherd