I once heard a story of a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. As the story goes, she was getting her things "in order," she contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to discuss her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, and what Scriptures she would like read.
Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important. “There's one more thing,” she said excitedly, “I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand.” The pastor turned around; he didn’t know quite what to say.
The young woman then explained. She said, “In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, ‘Keep your fork.’ I loved hearing that. It meant something better was coming... like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something really wonderful!
“So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder ‘What’s with the fork?’ Then I want you to tell them ‘Keep your fork, for the best is yet to come – heaven.’” The pastor's eyes welled with tears. He knew she had a better grasp of what heaven was all about than he did. She KNEW that something better was coming.
At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the cloak she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the Pastor kept hearing the question, "What's with the fork?" And over and over, he had a chance to explain her unshakable confidence that a better world awaited her in heaven with Jesus Christ.
You know, when this story landed on my desk I had to wonder if it was really true, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it were really true. I can see myself buried with a fork. One of the reasons I stay so energized, so passionate about life, so excited is that I know that this life (good as it is) is not the only life that will be. Something so grand, so glorious is about to break on the horizon, something so wonderful and sweet, that it will suffice for every one of my tears that I’ve cried in this wheelchair. Something so wonderful is about to break forth, that I know it will atone for every hurt… it will compensate for every pain. Best of all, I'll sit down at the wedding supper of the Lamb… and it won’t just be dessert served! What a grand and glorious banquet is being prepared. You can read about it in Isaiah 26:6. So the next time you reach down for your fork let it remind you, ever so gently, that the best is yet to come.
Used by permission of
JONI AND FRIENDS
P.O. Box 3333
Agoura Hills, CA 93176
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