"For their
riches were more than they might dwell together; and the land wherein they were
strangers could not bear them because of their cattle" (Gen. 36:7).
For a time after
meeting again, the twin sons of Isaac dwelt within reasonable distance of one
another. Perhaps the cord that bound them now was a father's death, perhaps
not.
But then, something
happened. While Esau had been busy making wives of the Canaanite women, his
flocks had been growing...and so had Jacob's. Now the grass hid itself from the
face of the earth, because so many sheep and goats had picked it bare.
And in response,
Esau picks up his things, packs up his house, and leaves for another place;
somewhere far away.
No, he didn't get
angry. It wasn't the response of, "Well, fine! I'll show you!"
It was, "I'm
sorry. But there simply isn't room for both of us, with how much stuff we have."
Might history be
recorded differently if Esau and his children had had the opportunity of being
in close proximity of Jacob and his? Or would Jacob's holy camp have been
soiled beyond salvage?
Some things are not
for us to know.
The point, however,
remains.
Sometimes, our stuff gets in the way of what we need to
do...what we want to do...what we're
called to do.
No man in Heaven
will look across the road at his neighbor's mansion and call, "Sorry, sir,
but there isn't room for the two of us here. We have too much stuff."
We won't be taking
our stuff to Heaven.
Why carry it 'round
here on Earth?
Stuff could be
anything, from a baseball bat to a welcoming mat…
...to a little tiny
thing way down inside your heart that's commonly known as baggage.
No wonder people are
sinking in the Slough of Despond these days.
I would too if I
tried to carry a new car, the keys for a new house, my iPhone 5, and a laptop
computer across.
Add to that the
weight of what's inside, that has the capacity to sink you even lower than the
stuff you're carrying on your back.
No, it doesn't mean
a new car...or house...or iPhone...or computer… is evil.
It's how they're
used...and how MUCH they're used, in some cases...that can be the clincher.
God sometimes
blesses us with things like that. But He expects us to use them for His honor
and glory. And regardless, there will come a time when all of your material
things will have to be left behind.
Imagine you're going
on a trip. You're taking a jet liner to Heaven, and you are so excited. You get
to check-in, and answer the angel's questions, and hand over your character,
your identification.
"Now sir,"
he says, "if you'll just put your baggage right here, we'll take care of
it for you."
You have two bags,
one in each hand. And they're very, VERY big. And heavy. They're weighing you
down at the moment, and a little bit ago you were wishing you hadn't tried to
bring everything with you.
But now that you're
being asked to surrender it, you clutch them tighter. Moments of agonized
indecision pass. You can't bear to part with your luggage...can you? But, oh!
How sweet to be rid of it! But...but...
A line-up forms
behind you, and the angel waits patiently, looking sympathetic, but insisting.
Just then, an
official walks by and notices your dilemma. He smiles as if He's seen this a
thousand times before, and walks up behind you. You feel a gentle hand on your
shoulder and a sweet Voice at your ear: "If you'll let me, I'll help you
put your baggage on the belt."
You swallow hard,
and after thinking a moment, nod. "Yes, Sir, please. I'd much rather not
have to lug this on the plane with me."
Strong hangs clasp
right over yours on the handles of your luggage, and in a firm, but gentle,
motion, the bags are placed on the belt. You smile, relieved--the angel smiles,
relieved--and then you notice that the Gentleman that helped you is gone.
"Who was that?
Where did He go?" you ask as the angel stamps your card with red ink:
"SAVED."
"Oh, that was
our Manager. He's the one who keeps this place running. He's also our Pilot,
and He'll be the One to greet you at your destination. People don't often see
Him on this end of the trip: He slips away unnoticed."
With nothing but
your card in hand, you march toward security, glancing at another check-in
stand in time to see someone turn from the counter, bags in hand, and walk
away. Apparently, they could not bear to let someone else handle their luggage.
Sad, you think, that he just walked away. I wonder that he didn't just go ahead and get
on the plane.
At security you meet
more angels, all smiling. They ask if you have any luggage with you, and you
reply you checked it in at the front. Now they really
smile. They sign your card in red ink: "REDEEMED," and on you
go.
Now you make it to
the gate. The plane is boarding, and you hand your card to the official.
"No
luggage?" he asks.
"Nope. Checked
it in up front," you reply.
He smiles, stamps
your card, and waves you through.
The flight is long.
7 days, to be exact. But it's in no way unpleasant, for all the time, you can
hear the voice of the Pilot through the loud-speaker system. Sometimes the
airplane rocks and bounces with tremendous turbulence, but the Pilot's voice is
ever speaking, reassuring that it's only for a time and to please remain
seated. No one saw Him at all in the airport, although you eagerly tell your
seat-mates that He helped you check your luggage.
"Funny,"
one of them says. "He did that for me, too."
"And me!"
another adds.
A little
investigation reveals that everyone on the plane was helped by the Pilot to
surrender their baggage at the check-in stand. I
wonder why that is, you muse.
When you pull into
Heaven's airport and land, everyone is excited and happy. You get off the
plane, and as you do you are changed in an instant. You give your card to the
man at the door, who's collecting them and filing them with a big smile. You've
been given new clothes, white and shining, and you walk along with a spring in
your step.
And that's when you
look for the sign that says, "Baggage claim." There must be one.
After all, it's an airport.
As you're paused,
looking around for the sign, a Man walks up to you and puts a hand on your
shoulder. That hand feels familiar, and you look up into the face of Someone so
gentle and kind you feel drawn to Him.
"What are you
looking for?" He asks.
"Excuse me,
Sir, but I'm looking for the baggage claim," you reply. "The Manager
helped me check it in on Earth, but shouldn't I have to claim it here?"
A smile passes over
the Man's face. "No, you won't. You see, we have no baggage claim
here."
You look surprised.
"No baggage claim? Why, then where did my baggage go?"
"Where it
belongs," is the simple reply. "No one ever brings baggage to Heaven.
They simply cannot come with it."
Now the man who
turned away from the check-in counter comes to mind. As you're walking along
with the Man, you ask, "So, are some left on Earth because they could not
check their luggage?"
Sadness crosses your
Companion's face. "Yes, more than I would like to say. I offer to help
every one of them, but few make the choice."
Now you are really
surprised. "You? Are you the Manager?"
He smiles.
"Yes, and the Pilot. And the King of this country."
"Well, I'm
certainly glad I don't have my baggage now," you say. "It made my
trip so much more enjoyable and pleasant. And it was easier to listen to what
You were saying over the loud-speaker when I didn't have to worry about my
things."
"That's why we
ask people to leave their baggage at the counter."
You've reached the
doors now, huge, pearl-like doors that your Friend swings back on its hinges,
revealing a vast landscape of unimaginable beauty. "Imagine this," He
says, "without the freedom to explore and discover. For you would have none
of that freedom with a bag in each hand."
You try. It's rather
hard; because, see, your luggage has been gone from you for so long, you can
hardly even imagine it back with you.
"I don't want
to," you say, taking one joyful step towards it all.
Then you look back
at the Man in the door, who's smiling at you. "Thank you," you say.
"Thank you for helping me to give it up."
He nods.
"You're welcome, My Child."
In Heaven's airport,
there is no baggage claim.
You leave your
baggage at the counter.
With Jesus.
Where it belongs.
No matter what kind
of baggage it may be.
You'll hear the
Pilot's voice better...especially when your airplane runs into turbulence.
You'll be able to
concentrate on serving the other people in your cabin, helping and making
things pleasant.
You'll be able to be
free...more free than you ever were before.
But the key is this:
the luggage must stay at the counter.
No one is ever
allowed to bring luggage into Heaven. They simply wouldn't be happy if they had
it with them.
It must be
surrendered now.
No, there is no
baggage claim in Heaven's airport.
Praise God.
Lord, help me to 'check my baggage' now. Give me Your
power to surrender it all to You...
