“from sweet grass to the packin’ house – birth till death – we travel between the eternities.”
“We’re all travelers in this world,” Robert Duval rightfully remarked in his movie, ‘Broken Trail.’ – “from sweet grass to the packin’ house – birth till death – we travel between the eternities.”
James would agree with the cowboy philosopher. …James 4:14 NLT “How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone.”
Yes, fellow traveler, we do travel between the two eternities, the past and the forever; neither of which has any limits or time stamps upon them. The sweet grass is far behind us now, and we can never go back. As for the packin house, well, it may just lay over tomorrows hill.
How long will it be? When will the journey end? Psalm 90:10 NLT sets a sort of limit, but not a certain one at that. “Seventy years are given to us! Some even live to eighty” I am on borrowed time, my friend, but I have the promise that time will reach beyond the next pass for me. “But even the best years are filled with pain and trouble; soon they disappear, and we fly away.”
Prentice Ritter, the character played by Duvall, was a lot like most of us; traveling warily thru this world, hoping for the best. We are, as the writer of Hebrews 11 also tells us, all Pilgrims in this world.
The term ‘packing house’, however, seems rather final, not at all eternal. I am convinced, Prentice, that I am traveling between the sweetgrass and the ranch house, not the packing house. The ranch house, which I can almost see over the next hill, is a place where I can hang up my boots and gear, sit down before a fire with my savior, and while away the hours talkin bout the back trail and the friends along the way.
Thank you Jesus, for watching me as I passed thru each draw and gazed out over every bluff. Thank you for riding along with me.
These all died in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen them afar off were assured of them. —Hebrews 11:13
garythepreacher.com 