No Baggage Claim--Gen. 36

"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...