I’m reading Uncle Tom’s Cabin, by Harriet Beecher Stowe. An inspiring, albeit horrific account of slavery at it’s worst in the southern U.S.. I’m mortified by all that slavery entailed, and yet, inspired by Stowe’s willingness to risk her life in an effort to expose the evil and hypocrisy.
In addition, I’m greatly impressed by how fluently she writes about the not yet. The slaves, whose fictional stories she tells, knew and walked with Jesus. Their hope was found not in the injustice of the now but the undying hope of the not yet. I can’t help but think characters like Uncle Tom were built from her first-hand knowledge of men and women who endured, often for years, under the fiercest, and in many cases unspeakable, strain.
Stowe’s descriptions of Jesus, the earthly battle, and the heavenly home, serve to draw me to the very edge of my chair. I long to know the reality of Christ like she must have known Him. Her knowledge of the Redeemer was clearly deep and personal – alive and real. Oh to know Him more!
Every chapter points to Christ’s rich, limitless love and forgiveness demonstrated at the cross. His suffering was unlike anything we could ever imagine. It’s so good to remember, on the surface of the day and deep down inside, our sin and depravity is far worse than we can ever fathom. His bottomless love wider, deeper, longer than anything we can ever comprehend. Pure love lavishly bestowed without condition.
I’m comforted, motivated, challenged, moved, struck, humbled by the fact that the not yet offers a hope that will never disappoint. A hope that is sure and steadfast – an anchor for the soul.
“When I can read my title clear, To mansions in the skies, I’ll bid farewell to every feat, and wipe my weeping eyes.
Should earth against my soul engage, and hellish darts be hurled, then I can smile at Satan’s rage, and face a frowning world.
Let cares like a wild deluge come, and storms of sorrow fall, may I but safely reach my home, My God, my Heaven, my All” (Uncle Tom’s Cabin, Harriet Beecher Stowe, page 388).