The weight of cares will have been lifted from their shoulders, the hollow-eyed sorrow of loss will have been removed from their countenance.  Weakness of mind will have given way to strength, frailty of body will have been replaced by fortitude. All will be well. All will be better than we have ever known or even imagined.

I’m sure you’ve had the same kind of experience I’ve had—the experience of bumping into someone you haven’t seen for many years. Maybe it is at a conference, maybe at a wedding, or maybe through pure serendipity. Yet now you’re face to face and you realize that even while you’re enjoying a conversation with that other person you’re also having a separate conversation within yourself.

In the first conversation, you’re recounting what has happened in the intervening years, telling of trials and triumphs and everything in between. Meanwhile, in the second and silent conversation you’re thinking to yourself, “Wow, he looks old! He has a lot less hair than I remember and a lot more of it is gray.” And it isn’t long before you find yourself wondering, “Wait, is he thinking the same about me? Do I look as old as he does?” And frankly, he probably is and you probably do.

When we part ways with friends and then encounter them again ten or twelve years on, we can’t help but think how different they look. And almost invariably the years and decades have not been particularly kind. Time changes our outward appearance and I hope you will not be offended when I say that it is rarely for the better. Beauty, like physical strength, peaks relatively early in life and then begins a long decline. Thankfully, beauty matters far less than wisdom and character which peak late and never go into decline. Hence it is far better to value inner beauty than outer, to value the “hidden person of the heart” and the kind of imperishable beauty that is precious to God and to those who love him (1 Peter 3:4).

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