Old Photographs

As we are moving from Memphis to Chicago in two weeks, I have been going through many boxes of accumulated stuff.  And consequently, I have dredged up a lot of memories.  There were many photographs not only of our girls, but the ancient relatives.  The old faces of previous generations peer at us on faded sepia-toned paper.  These captured images are dear to us, not because these people were beautiful by the world’s standards of beauty, but because of our love for them and how they loved us.  Some of them had infirmities, like my grandmother’s almost fifty year battle with rheumatoid arthritis.  Her hands were knotted by swollen joints, and her knees were huge from inflammation, a prime candidate for replacement knee surgery that was not available at that time.  She shuffled, but she spoke often of dancing in the streets someday in heaven.

I have also thought a lot lately about transformation and what that means in this life and the next.  We see with our eyes the deformities, the infirmities, the handicaps of living in a fallen world.  But I am convinced that in eternity, we will recognize each other not by our bodies or our faces, but by what is imperishable.

 

And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the LORD, are being changed into His likeness from one degree of glory to another.  2 Corinthians 3.18