Eyes Elsewhere

Artwork Credit: Lonely Land (1896) by Ludwig von Zumbusch (1861–1927). Public domain image. Artvee.com.

    I was finally able to attend our church’s Thursday night devotional for the first time. Until recently, I never had the chance. Work, studies, and my schedule often allowed me only to join Sunday services, youth fellowships, and our neighborhood children’s class in the afternoon. That Thursday, we studied 1 Corinthians 15:35–38, and the topic was the resurrection of the body. I had encountered the passage before, but it was the first time I gave it more thought, especially on what it teaches about the future hope we have in Christ. As one of our leaders explained the nature of our new, incorruptible bodies when Christ returns, I was surprised by how much I had overlooked in this part of Scripture.

    After the teaching, we were asked to group ourselves and share what we learned. Each of us would reflect on what the Lord impressed upon our hearts and how we could respond. Then we would gather again and listen to each other’s takeaways. Some of the sisters shared that first-timers often cry when they finally speak. I did not expect that for myself. But later, I found my hands trembling as I tried to put into words what I was learning.

    It was not a new doctrine that broke me. It was the realization of what I had left out.

    A few years ago, just one year after I had first encountered Reformed teaching, I read a booklet by R.C. Sproul on Kindle titled Are These the Last Days? The book offered a concise explanation of the Olivet Discourse in Matthew 24–25. Sproul discussed the parables, outlined various millennial views, and concluded with a sobering yet hopeful reminder that what ultimately matters is whether the returning Lord will find His servants faithful. I believe that with all my heart. I held on to it and tried to live as a faithful servant. But over time, I misunderstood the wisdom that had helped me. I always carried with me the belief that as long as I focused on doing what is right today, I did not need to think much about the end.

    Eschatology, to me, became less important. I thought it belonged to another day, that I had to learn the other important doctrines first. I only believed general truths about it, watched short clips, and read quotes. I believed that everything else could come later. When I was still doing my Bachelor's in Biblical Studies program, one of the courses included eschatology as a major topic, but I did not give much importance to it. Revelation and the end times could wait, I told myself. I convinced myself I was prioritizing what mattered more.

    But what I had done, without realizing, was detach my obedience from hope. I forgot that everything we do in Christ is not only because He died but also because He rose, and will return (1 Cor. 15:20–23). Forgetting that made it easier for me to despair.

    There were seasons when I looked at my life and saw only failure. A small sin would bring me grief, and soon other sins followed. The pressure of work, studies, ministry, and household responsibilities began to feel like mere routine. I have faced depression and made suicidal attempts in the past, especially before I became involved in ministry. Even last year, I found myself on that edge again. Even now, I cannot say I am completely done with it. I do not intend to dwell on those details here, as I know they may affect others in different ways. But I mention them now because I believe part of what made the burden heavier was this: I had forgotten to look forward.

    Yes, I preached the Gospel to myself. I studied Scripture. I remembered the cross. But I kept looking at myself—my failures, my shortcomings, my delayed prayers. I forgot to lift my eyes to the promise. Christ is coming again. He is not just saving us from sin but bringing us into a glory that does not perish. And when we do not think about that, we lose sight of the very reason why we press on.

    Studying the life of Sarai helped me understand this more. She had waited too long for the promise of a child. When she grew weary, she offered Hagar to Abram, thinking that perhaps she could accomplish God’s will her way (Gen. 16:1–2). It is easy to judge her until we realize how familiar her fear and impatience can be. Waiting can weary us. We begin to doubt what we first believed. I have asked the Lord why certain prayers remain unanswered. I have always felt the pain of wanting family members to come to Christ and seeing little change. The problems of daily life, work, time, finances, and relationships can feel heavier when we see no progress, no reward.

    I believe some of our sufferings are consequences of disobedience or misplaced confidence. But some are also rooted in the way God made us, sensitive, thoughtful, vulnerable. I believe these may be part of what He uses to keep us nearer. If we did not have weaknesses left in us, we would have forsaken God long ago. And for those who wrestle with depression or anxiety, I am certain the causes are complex and varied. I do not want to reduce it to one explanation. But I can say this: sometimes, our despair deepens when we lose sight of what God has promised. And while struggling to trust Him is not the same as rejecting Him, failing to trust fully may still wound us slowly. When trust is replaced with our constant desire for control, exhaustion follows.

    It was also in that devotional gathering that this thought came to me: saying we serve the Lord is easy, but forgetting that we do it for Him is easier. We may obey outwardly and still forget the Person behind the command. We may become faithful servants who forget the joy of the Master’s return. The Christian life is not just a call to die daily, it is also a call to look up daily. We wait for a Savior who will come and transform our lowly bodies, that they may be conformed to His glorious body (Phil. 3:20–21).

    My fellow in Christ, we may grow tired from the work of faith, but Christ is the One who keeps us going. He is risen and will return as He said. Our hope has a face—His—and our future rests in the word He has already given. There is a promise of a resurrection body, but more than that, there is the promise of Christ Himself. Looking to Him gives meaning to every task.

    So let us die to self daily, but let us also look to Him daily. If we fix our eyes only on the demands, we may soon lose heart. But if we remember the One who is coming, we will see again why it matters to keep going. This life has many trials, and some of them will not be answered here. But the Lord we serve is returning and has prepared a better country (Heb. 11:16). 

    Let us do the work that is given to us today, but let us not forget to look to the hope of tomorrow.