Living a life of Hope

Charles E. Fuller, a well-known radio evangelist of the mid-twentieth century, announced one day that his sermon the following Sunday would be on “Heaven.” As he prepared his radio message that week, Fuller received a letter from an elderly man who knew that he was soon to die. Here is part of that letter:

Next Sunday you are to talk about “Heaven.” I am interested in that land because I have held a clear title to a bit of property there for over 55 years. I did not buy it. It was given to me without money and without price. But the donor purchased it for me at a tremendous sacrifice. I am not holding it for speculation, since the title is not transferable. It is not a vacant lot….. Termites can never undermine its foundations, for they rest upon the Rock of Ages. Fire cannot destroy it. Floods cannot wash it away. No locks or bolts will ever be placed upon its doors, for no vicious person can ever enter that land where my dwelling stands, now almost completed and ready for me to enter and abide in peace eternally without fear of being ejected. There is a valley of deep shadow between the place where I live in California and that to which I shall journey in a very short time. I cannot reach my home in the City of God without passing through the dark valley of shadows. But I am not afraid, because the best friend that I ever had went through the same valley alone long, long ago and drove away all the gloom. He has stuck by me through thick and thin since we first became acquainted 55 years ago, and I hold His promise in printed form, never to forsake, nor to leave me alone. He will be with me as I walk through the valley of the shadows, and I shall not lose my way when He is with me. I hope to hear your sermon on Heaven next Sunday from my home, but I have no assurance that I shall be able to do so. My ticket to heaven has no date marked for the journey – no return coupon – and no permit for baggage. Yes, I am ready to go and may not be here while you are talking next Sunday, but I shall meet you there someday.

As I read that letter, I pictured that man – bent and shaking, his body wasted, his face wrinkled, his brow furrowed. From an earthly perspective, he is little more than skin on skeleton, a hopeless invalid. Yet, something in his eyes speaks of hope of which this world knows nothing. There, between the thick eyebrows and the weathered cheeks sparkles a confidence that he, a soon passing mortal, will embrace life everlasting on the other side of the grave. In fact, I can’t help imagining how that man is doing today, this very moment, in Heaven. With the cares and sorrows of this life past, he enjoys a state of perpetual perfection, delighting daily in the presence of Christ.

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