Beware, brethren, lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief in departing from the living God; but exhort one another daily, while it is called “Today,” lest any of you be hardened through the deceitfulness of sin. For we have become partakers of Christ if we hold the beginning of our confidence steadfast to the end ... -- Hebrews 3:12-14

I mediated on that passage a bit tonight.

Knowing that the commands of Scripture to hold our faith firm to the end are momentous, I find it difficult sometimes to balance both being honest with God about my lack of faith, and trusting in His magnanimity and goodness. The last thing I want to do is to depart from the living God, because even His common grace is still grace, and what is hell if not being separated from all vestiges of His presence? I need to hold on, all the while knowing that it's not me who's really doing the holding.

Robert, our UPS driver at work, had been out of pocket for months, but he finally showed up again on our route this past week. I assumed that he had simply been reassigned, but he told me that he had actually been sick -- very sick. Back in October he had developed a bump on the back of his head that grew to a large lump within 24 hours. After going to the ER, he passed out and was admitted to the hospital (I can't remember what the diagnosis was). After a few days of being under medication he slipped into a coma. The prognosis looked grim. Most people expected him to die, including his wife. But after seven days he came out of the coma, and his loved ones were relieved -- it was like seeing a man raised from the dead. He still had to go through a process of recovery and rehabilitation that lasted another couple of months, but as it turns out, the coma changed his life.

"Do you remember what it was like being in the coma?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, man. I saw some stuff," he responded.

"What did you see?"

"It was like my life was a movie being played out in my head. I saw all of the bad places I had been in my life, places I never should have been, and I kept thinking that God was telling me, 'You didn't walk away from those places; I carried you away.'"

His words moved me. His experience moved me. Just seeing his beaming smile made it obvious to me that I was talking to a man who was thankful to be alive. Joie de vivre was written all over his face. He must have felt like Lazarus. Having stood on the ledge of life, and looked out at such a cavernous death, Robert has got an eternal perspective that will be with him for the rest of his life.

I want that perspective. I want to hold the beginning of my confidence steadfast to the end, because I believe with all my heart I am a partaker of Christ. Exhort me to that end.