​I’ve written about Anne Parrish’s 1938 novel Mr. Despondency’s Daughter once or twice before. It’s one of her most haunting stories, narrated by an aging woman suffering from the early stirrings of dementia, and it’s been sitting on my desk for months, awaiting a reread.
 
But just the other day, while searching in vain for a letter I’d filed carefully in one stack of papers or another, I noticed a Post-it note peeking out of the bottom of this particular volume, flagging page 174. I reread the page, wondering why I’d so marked it (I don’t write in these precious old books, as difficult as they can be to find and as costly as they are becoming). And there, towards the bottom of the page, I found the passage that had no doubt arrested my attention, part of the narrator's commentary on her relationship with old friend Caroline:

I see this phenomenon all the time with my elderly friends at the nursing home. Too often, they are the last of their generations. They may have children and grandchildren and younger friends galore. But their parents are long gone. Their spouses and siblings have died, one by one. And now even distant cousins and mere acquaintances are vanishing into eternity.
 
One old friend of mine was so longing for shared memory that she even cultivated a relationship with a second cousin whom she had actively disliked her whole life. “She was so wild and stuck up,” my friend explained. “She never gave me the time of day, so I ignored her too.”
 
But things are different now.
 
“Everyone else is gone," she said, "and we only have each other. We haven’t seen each other in over 60 years, but we talk on the phone every Sunday now, and we’ve become friends. We don’t have anything left in this life but our memories, you know, and at least we can talk about those.”
 
I suppose there are a number of lessons here for those of us who are getting up there in years.
 
For instance, by all means stay in touch with as many of your old friends and relatives as possible, if you’d like to be able to spend at least a little time dwelling in a happy past.  
 
More important, put some effort into making new friends, and new memories, as long as you’re physically and mentally able to do so.
 
But most important of all, get right with the God of the Bible. Then educate yourself on what He has promised about eternity. That way, you’ll be able to dispel every threat of loneliness with prompt reminders that, yes indeed, the best is yet to come. 

“Every joy on earth—including the joy of reunion--
is an inkling, a whisper of greater joy.”

--Randy Alcorn, Heaven, page 241
​

It took us just over six months, but we finally finished reading the highlights of Randy Alcorn’s book Heaven in our weekly Bible Discussion at Care-age of Brookfield.  
 
All in all, it has been a transformative study for us. Relying primarily on the Bible itself but also introducing the thoughts of dozens of theologians, Alcorn has greatly expanded our thinking about our eternal destination. And I think it’s safe to say that we’re almost all more excited than ever about heading Home once and for all.
 
Among this fine book’s many important points:

• We can know today that we’re going to spend eternity in heaven. “We need never fear that God will find a skeleton in our closet and say, ‘If I’d known you did that, I wouldn’t have let you into Heaven.’  Every sin is washed away by the blood of Christ. Moreover, God is all-knowing. He has seen us at our worst and still loves us. No sin is bigger than the Savior.” (page 35)

 

• Eternity will be just as physical as our world is today, minus the corruption. “Will the Eden we long for return? Will it be occupied by familiar, tangible, physical features and fully embodied people? The Bible clearly answers yes.” (page 81)

 

• We’re homesick now—but one glorious day, that will end. “We have never known a world without sin, suffering and death. Yet we yearn for such a life and such a world. When we see a roaring waterfall, beautiful flowers, a wild animal in its native habitat, or the joy in the eyes of our pets when they see us, we sense that this world is—or at least was meant to be—our home.” (page 81)

 

• We keep trying, and failing, to cure this homesickness with earthly remedies. “Nothing is more often misdiagnosed than our homesickness for Heaven. We think that what we want is sex, drugs, alcohol, a new job, a raise, a doctorate, a spouse, a large-screen television, a new car, a cabin in the woods, a condo in Hawaii. What we really want is the person we were made for, Jesus, and the place we were made for, Heaven. Nothing less can satisfy us.” (page 166)

 

• Our relationships will continue. “God doesn’t abandon His purposes; He extends and fulfills them. Friendships begun on Earth will continue in Heaven, getting richer than ever.” (page 357)

 

• Animals—quite possibly including our pets—will join us there. “Something better remains after death for these poor creatures,” said 18th century theologian and evangelist John Wesley. “[T]hese, likewise, shall one day be delivered from this bondage of corruption, and shall then receive ample amends for all their present sufferings.” (page 400)

 

• Heaven will never be boring. “There will always be more to see when we look at God, because His infinite character can never be exhausted. We could—and will—spend countless millennia exploring the depths of God’s being and be no closer to seeing it all than when we first started. This is the magnificence of God and the wonder of Heaven.” (page 179)

 

• It’s all made possible for us by receiving God's free gift of eternal life. “Make the conscious decision to accept Christ’s sacrificial death on your behalf. When you choose to accept Christ and surrender control of your life to him, you can be certain that your name is written in the Lamb’s Book of Life.” (page 36)

 
I think my favorite quote in this meaty, quote-laden book is this one, from 19th century Burman missionary Adoniram Judson: “When Christ calls me Home,” Judson said, “I shall go with the gladness of a boy bounding away from school.”
 
Do you remember the bliss of being dismissed from a grade-school classroom on the last day of the school year, with a whole summer stretching out endlessly before you? I sure do. It was quite possibly the greatest joy I have ever experienced, being free of all the fears and anxieties and other problems that begin to haunt us as we enter our teens.  
 
And I think Judson was absolutely correct: This is precisely what it’s going to feel like when we get that final divine summons.
 
Only this time, summer will never end. 

          Eva wasn’t feeling up to it, but Sadie managed to persuade Beulah to come along to the next Bible study.
          “And then there were five,” Jamie rejoiced when Beulah followed Sadie into the Southeast Sitting Room, both of their chairs powered by a brawny blonde aide. “One or two more and we’ll have to find ourselves a larger room.”
          Sadie and Beulah settled themselves at the trestle table across from Charles Chapelle and his sweet granddaughter Elise. Jamie’s joviality was contagious; they were soon chatting about everything under the sun, and before long they found themselves engrossed in Beulah’s story.
“My life didn’t really begin until I became a genuine Christian,” she told the group. “My parents were Christian people, so I’d been going to church my whole life. But it wasn’t until we attended a revival meeting in 1936 that I repented and trusted in Christ. I was seventeen when I gave my life to Him, and I’ve never looked back.”
          Sadie was fascinated. She didn’t recall that she had ever done anything so dramatic. She’d always heard people talking about “making a decision for Christ,” but she’d never heard a report quite like this one, delivered in such exquisite detail. Why, Beulah was even describing the boots she was wearing on that snowy night.
          “And of course that was the Great Depression,” Beulah added with gusto. “My parents were farmers, and we lived on one hundred and fifty acres near Wausau, but we were as poor as church mice. It wasn’t long after my conversion that we had to move. We had lost everything, and so we went into Wausau and rented a room in a boarding house and just prayed for the Lord to take care of us as He had promised to.”
          “I know He promised,” Sadie said, embarrassed to reveal her ignorance but desperate to know, “but where exactly did He make that promise?”
          “Maybe the best-known passage,” Charles said, opening his Bible and flipping quickly to the sixth chapter of Matthew, “is right here in the Sermon on the Mount. That’s where Jesus said, ‘Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?’”
          “Bravo, Charles,” Jamie said, beaming at the Chapelles. “In fact, let’s take a look at that subject in one of our next meetings, okay? It’s an important one. But please continue, Beulah.”
          And she did, chattering on and on as if her life depended upon it.
          Sadie felt suddenly sleepy—a frequent problem since her secret stroke—and she was having trouble focusing on the story line. But she faded back in when Beulah got to the part about her father passing up a job in the local lumberyard because he didn’t feel led to take it. Was that supposed to be a good thing?
          “The world would have accused him of being lazy,” Jamie said solemnly, “but I know just how he must have felt.”
          “Oh, yes,” Beulah said. “People were very critical of him. And honestly, I was worried myself. I heard my mother and father whispering at night, after we were in bed, about their savings being almost gone. It was hard not to hear; we were living in this single room, my parents and me and my two younger brothers.” She shook her head at the memory. “I don’t suppose people can get much poorer than we were.”
          But then, suddenly, the Lord opened a door for them, she said.
          “Old Lady Grayson invited us to come live with her and run her farm,” Beulah hooted. “It sounded awful to most people, and to be honest even to my mother and me, because Mrs. Grayson had a reputation for being cruel to her hired help. But my dad said, ‘This is it,’ and so we moved into her house. It was enormous, as big as a hotel in those days. I had my own room, and so did the boys, and she had both indoor plumbing and electricity. What luxuries for us farmers!”
          Elise expressed amazement that they’d ever lived without the amenities taken for granted today, and they spent some time chatting about the advent of plumbing and electricity in rural America.
          But, impressively, Beulah didn’t forget the original point of her story. “She put us all to work, even my brothers, and what do you know: two months later I was privileged to lead Old Lady Grayson to the Lord! I’ve never doubted that this was exactly why He sent us to her, and had my Daddy turn down the job at the lumberyard. And here’s the punch line: The following year she died and left everything to my parents. They worked that farm until the late 1960s, growing corn, mainly. They were approaching eighty by then, and He took care of them every passing day.”
          “What a faithful God,” Elise said, her eyes shining.
          She was really a very pretty girl, Sadie thought. In fact—she glanced surreptitiously at first Elise and then Jamie, and back again—yes, they’d make an attractive couple.
          “I believe that it was exactly what the Lord wanted us to do,” Beulah said, interrupting Sadie’s daydream, “and He rewarded my parents for being obedient.” 
          “It must have been so hard,” Elise said. “I just can’t imagine how frightening it must have been to move into that room, all of you, and to know that the money was running out.”
          Beulah nodded, her brow creased in thought. “But you know, if my father ever had a moment of worry, he never let on. And that gave us confidence.”
          “He set the tone for you all,” Jamie offered.
          “Exactly! We trusted him, and if he trusted the Lord, well then, that was that. As far as I know, I was the only one who ever had any fears over our situation.”
          She stroked the worn Bible sitting in her lap.
          “And I’ve never been really afraid since then. I’ve had disappointments and sorrows, of course, like anyone else. But no real fear. His eye is on the sparrow.”
          “And I know He watches me,” Sadie chirped happily, not in the least embarrassed by her less-than-perfect pitch. 

--The Song of Sadie Sparrow, pages 164-167

Are you feeling hopeless, lost, adrift in the world? Have you had enough?

Are you asking, “What must I do to be saved?”

This is the subject tackled by preacher and teacher Chris Carrillo during the most recent Care-age Christian Music Hour, and we’re proud to be sharing his message with you today. Please listen, learn, and share it with someone who really needs to hear the gospel of Jesus Christ.