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r HE house we live in is a place we call home. We care for it and make it look as beautiful and as comfortable as we can. And we love that house a lot. But God said we have a moving day coming. Just when the moving van will stop at our house we do not know, but for all it is sure; and for us who are past middle age it could be soon. As that day approaches, we realize how soon we may have to move out of this old house and move into that new home not made with hands — eternal in the heavens. Death for the believer is a home-going, not a departing. The Owner of this old house I have occupied here on earth has served notice that I must soon move out. He will not make many more repairs on it, as I will soon have to vacate it anyway. The foundation is getting rotten and beginning to crumble. The roof has begun to leak. The heating system is failing — it doesn’t keep me warm any more. The windows are getting smoked and stained until
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it is hard to see out of them. The steps are getting weak and shaky. The hinges are rusty and squeaky. There was a time when I dreaded the thought of moving. I have en joyed this old house in many ways. It has been pleasant; and if it were not for so many evidences of decay, I would consider it good enough, with a few repairs, to last for some time yet. But God said, “Make preparations to move.” So I have been thinking of the plans and blueprints of my fu ture residence and have been over whelmed with joy by the great ad vantages of the new home I will have over this old one. So now, instead of dreading it, I am beginning to get anxious to move. If it were not for a few things for which the Lord may use me still, I would like to move soon. I just read a letter from One who came from that new country and went back to prepare a place there for me. He describes the place as wondrous
beyond compare. The streets are paved with gold, and there are many, many mansions. I like the location of my new home. I like the arrangement of the rooms. I like my neighbors there. Most of all, I love the Builder. Somehow this old crumbling shack has lost its appeal. It has stood lots of rough treatment. Many times the rain and wind have beat and banged on it. There have been days when I thought it couldn’t possibly stand. It has been a pleasure staying in it these few years, but here on earth I have been only a pilgrim and a strang er, with no place really to call home. But Jesus has gone to prepare a place for me. He will soon return to move me up home. Life with Christ is an endless hope. Without Him it is a hopeless end. We know it is coming. There is no way to escape it. We see the evidence every day as the van goes up and down the road. All I know to do is just have everything packed and ready to move.
DECEMBER, 1962
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