My heart has often been gripped by the one of the stories Luke tells from the life of Jesus. He tells of Jesus arriving in the town of Nain just as a funeral procession is making its way toward the tombs nearby. This was an especially tragic funeral, for the man who had died was “the only son of his mother, and she was a widow.” Tragedy had followed tragedy for this poor woman. She had already suffered the loss of her husband and now she was also having to lay to rest her only son.

But Jesus was having none of it. Filled with compassion, he approached that sad procession, brought it to a halt and said to the grieving mother, “Do not weep.” Then turning his attention to the corpse he commanded, “Young man, I say to you, arise.” And just like that, the young man was restored to life and restored to health. “And the dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother.” What a lovely, beautiful moment.
As I pondered this moment recently I found myself considering this: How long was the gap between when Jesus said “do not weep” and when he said, “Young man, arise?” How long was that stretch of time? The answer is straightforward: There were just a few moments between speaking his comfort and restoring her joy.
And I ask: is there really that much more time between God’s words of comfort to us today and the time when he will restore our joy? We have an eternity stretching out before us, endless ages in his perfect presence. With that in mind, how long is this stretch of time between our moment of grief and our moment of ultimate comfort?
When the Apostle Paul considered his pains and afflictions—deep pains and terrible afflictions—he declared them light and momentary. Paul’s words only make sense if he knew that what awaited him was heavy and long, glorious and eternal. He was drawing hope from the future. By faith he was reaching into the boundless storehouses of heaven and grabbing great handfuls of hope and joy to sustain him on earth. In the present his pains were weighty and momentous. But he was convinced that compared to the future they were light and momentary. Don’t you see how long eternity must be and how great the glory to come must be, that it would make his greatest sorrows fade by comparison?
And we need to do the same. The day will come when we will look back on the pains we endure today, even great pains and deep sorrows, and judge them light and momentary as we bask in the glory of God forever and ever. 
A short time ago I got an email from a gentlemen who is now well into his 90s and who lost his dear son more than 70 years ago. That seems like a long time. It is a long time—it’s a lifetime. And now this dear old man knows that his time is almost here. Now he knows his reunion is imminent. It’s so close he can surely almost feel his son’s arms around him, so close he can surely almost hear his son’s voice greeting him! And let me ask, when he’s been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, how long will the time seem between his day of grief and his day of joy? When he sees God’s plan completed and his purposes perfected, will he grumble that his calling was difficult? When he worships in God’s presence age after endless age, will he claim that these 70 years were too long or too hard? Of course not.
Our pains still hurt; our persecutions still torment; our trials still agonize. We still weep with the pain of it all. But by setting them against the backdrop of heaven we can say, “light and momentary.” Because the gap between the moment of our greatest grief and the moment of our greatest joy will really just prove to be the briefest of moments. Just like it was for that widow who, for so short a time, was grieving her beloved son.

It is something we have all observed at one time or another and something we have all wondered about. Why is it that those who seem most likely to come to Christ so often reject him? Why is it that those hear the boldest invitations and who have the greatest opportunities so commonly turn away? Robert Macdonald once pondered this in helpful ways in light of the parable of the Great Banquet (Luke 14:15-24).

In the parable of the Great Supper—designed to set forth the fulness of redemption and the generous freeness with which it is offered—those to whom the servant was first sent might have been thought the worthiest to get the invitation, and the likeliest to accept it. They were the respectable, the industrious, the well-to-do— men who had ground of their own, and oxen of their own. But not one of them would come. Though civil to the servant and respectful, yet with one consent they began to make excuse. Thus the likeliest to come first never came at all, and entirely missed the feast with all its joy.
Not succeeding in his first attempt, and with the first class, the servant had to go out a second time,—not an easy thing to do after such previous failure. Fishermen have little heart to cast in the net again, if all the night before has been one of weary and fruitless toil. So this servant, after such discouragements in the beginning, would have but little heart for renewed message-bearing, especially to another and seemingly outcast class, in the streets and lanes, the highways and hedges. Nevertheless, at his master’s command, he went forth and did as he was enjoined, with cheering results.
How often is it that those who were expected to be the first to welcome this salvation are the very last to do so, if ever they do so at all!—Robert MacdonaldShare
Now, in like manner, Christ’s servants still go forth with the invitations of grace, commissioned to tell that all things are ready; and in particular, that in and through Christ, forgiveness, acceptance, adoption, and peace, yea, and all redemption blessings, are provided in richest fulness, and yet without price. Nevertheless, how often is it that those who were expected to be the first to welcome this salvation are the very last to do so, if ever they do so at all! And why? Simply this: they are too busy with other pursuits; the farm and the family take up all their time and thoughts. In all such cases, ‘I cannot come’ is the alleged reason, but ‘I will not come’ is the real one; for when the heart is true the duties of the farm never interfere with the privileges of the feast, nor is it ever found that there is any necessary antagonism between family joys and the joy of the Lord.
A dying child, urging his father to repentance, said, ‘Father, I am going to heaven; what shall I tell Jesus is the reason why you won’t love him?’ Such a question might well startle any rejecter or neglecter of the great salvation.

How shall we escape, if we neglect so great salvation? (Hebrews 2:3)
And ye will not come to me, that ye might have life. (John 5:40)

It is good to confess our sins. It is good to corporately confess our sins. This corporate confession based on Psalm 38 is one we use from time to time at Grace Fellowship Church.  I hope you appreciate it as we do.

Leader:O Lord,Please do not punish us for our sins.Hold back your discipline from us.We feel sick over our sins.We are drowning in our sins.The guilt of our sins clings to us like a weight around our ankles.Our sins are too much for us.
Congregation:We have been so foolish.Our folly stinks. It is gross in Your sight.We are crushed and full of sorrow for what we have done.We are burning up with guilt.We are groaning here.Our hearts hurt.
Leader:O Lord, listen to our cries and sighs.Our hearts are throbbing.Our strength is fading.Our hope is dimming, because of our sins.Not even our closest friends and family can help us.
Congregation:Besides this, our enemy has laid even more snares.He parades our ruin before You.He meditates on how to trip us up.
Leader:But we will plug our ears and shut our mouths.We have nothing left to say.We will not listen to that Accuser.But for You, O Lord, we will wait.You are the only one who can answer us in our need.The world, the flesh and the devil will rejoice in our failings.But not you.
Congregation:O Lord, we are ready to tear apart at the seams.We cannot shake the pain of our guilt.
Leader:We confess our iniquities.We are sorry for our sins.
Congregation:Remember the strength of our enemies.Remember the number of our enemies.Remember the wickedness of our enemies.
Leader:And do not forsake us, O Lord.O our God, do not be far from us.Hurry up and help us!For You alone, O Lord, are our salvation.
 All:Amen.
Leader: Christian, because your life is hidden in Christ and you have honestly asked for His forgiveness, be assured that “He does not retain his anger forever, because he delights in steadfast love. He will again have compassion on us; he will tread our iniquities underfoot. [He] will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea (Micah 7:18b–19).”