I’ve recommended before Robert Wolgemuth’s excellent book Finish Line: Dispelling Fear, Finding Peace, and Preparing for the End of Your Life. Robert has now lived out what he wrote about, having entered the presence of Jesus on January 10.
One of our staff members came across what Joni Eareckson Tada wrote in the foreword to Robert’s book, and it’s just wonderful. Before quoting it, let me say that Nanci and I loved and still love Joni (Nanci is in a place where love doesn’t die). Joni is precious to us as she is to countless people. I never skim what she has to say. Whenever I see a quote from her, I know God will speak to me, to my head and heart, and He always does.
“So, Joni, do you ever wonder what it’ll be like, crossing from this life into the next?”
I’m asked that a lot. Look, I’m a quadriplegic who’s lived in a wheelchair for more than fifty-five years. I’m straining with head back, arms wide, and pumping everything I’ve got into that photo finish at the tape. Do I wonder what that moment will be like? You bet I do.
What I am about to say is not directly from the Bible, but here’s how I like to picture it. I see myself bursting across the finish line and—like a marathoner—collapsing on hands and knees. I sink my hands into the sands of that celestial shore, heaving, sweating, and gasping. “I made it . . . I made it . . . I can’t believe I made it!” Then I roll over on my back and lie still with eyes closed, letting the restful sound of the gentle waves and the wind wash over me.
In the quiet, I feel the presence of Someone standing above me, Someone in whose cool shadow I feel bathed and blessed. I open my eyes and see . . . Jesus. His head is eclipsing the sun. He smiles down at me and offers His hand, as would any friend. I take it happily, and in one swift motion He pulls me up.
“Welcome home, sweetheart,” He whispers as he looks admiringly at me with unimaginably kind eyes. Then he pulls me close and pat-pats my back like Daddy used to do. “It’s been hard and long, but you’re safe now,” He says, patting me some more. At this point, I am sobbing until He holds me an arm’s length away. I blink twice, for he almost looks like my Daddy, or maybe my Brother. Or Lover. Or King.
“You made me look so good back there on earth,” He says.
My immediate reaction? Drop to my knees and kiss His feet. But the dream dissipates. The reality of what will then actually happen takes over. And although the details are cloaked in mystery, the Bible describes a glorious dénouement with angels and rewards; the devil and his hordes—all of them—destroyed; death gone; Christ’s name vindicated as He is crowned the undisputed King of the universe. The Bible says we will reign alongside Him, spreading His kingdom of love, light, and beauty throughout the endless cosmos. Our song of suffering will be over, and forever we will sing of Jesus’ sufferings and how his excruciatingly tender love won for us so great a salvation.
