There are days when I have a healthy longing for home. Not the kind of home that you might associate to a particular place, a person, or building. It's not the kind of home I've ever seen physically, but on many occasions, I've pictured it in my minds eye on days that seem over-crowded with all the things that just don't seem to go quite right, on the days I know I'm just not "there." I have a healthy longing for Heaven.
I heard this week of two fellow saints who recently made that journey home. One, a man I never met but who had close ties to those I know at work, and another, an elderly lady who I had come to know quite well during high school through church, choir, and other activities. The wife of the gentleman who passed away this week from a long battle with cancer wrote to our workplace and said that her heart was light, for she knew that he, (her husband), was dancing on streets that were golden. She had the assurance he was in Heaven. That descriptive picture painted by a newly-made widow has been etched in my thoughts this week. How amazing is it to know that this is not our home, that there is a better one? I'm awed. Honestly, at times I wish that homecoming were closer or more foreseeable. I can hardly imagine how incredible that homecoming will be. Like an eager Father, God has prepared for us a place. He longs for us more than we can even imagine we long for Him. He's waiting at "Home" to awe us with His presence, to wipe every tear from our eyes, to welcome us with open arms. His love beckons us daily. "For great is your love, higher than the heavens; your faithfulness reaches to the skies," (Psalm 108: 4)
Knowing this, no matter how bright the sun shines here on earth, there is a place where the light is brighter, days are more golden, and where tears are replaced by the overwhelming sense and peace that one is finally "home." Heaven is a place that I desire to daily yearn for in increasing measure, a destination I long to see others grasp for with a heart of faith, and a homecoming I can't wait for. I want to dance on streets of gold with the God who loved me so much, He laid down the ultimate sacrifice. I have a date with my father and He is saving me a dance, preparing me a place, running to welcome me "Home."
I heard this week of two fellow saints who recently made that journey home. One, a man I never met but who had close ties to those I know at work, and another, an elderly lady who I had come to know quite well during high school through church, choir, and other activities. The wife of the gentleman who passed away this week from a long battle with cancer wrote to our workplace and said that her heart was light, for she knew that he, (her husband), was dancing on streets that were golden. She had the assurance he was in Heaven. That descriptive picture painted by a newly-made widow has been etched in my thoughts this week. How amazing is it to know that this is not our home, that there is a better one? I'm awed. Honestly, at times I wish that homecoming were closer or more foreseeable. I can hardly imagine how incredible that homecoming will be. Like an eager Father, God has prepared for us a place. He longs for us more than we can even imagine we long for Him. He's waiting at "Home" to awe us with His presence, to wipe every tear from our eyes, to welcome us with open arms. His love beckons us daily. "For great is your love, higher than the heavens; your faithfulness reaches to the skies," (Psalm 108: 4)
Knowing this, no matter how bright the sun shines here on earth, there is a place where the light is brighter, days are more golden, and where tears are replaced by the overwhelming sense and peace that one is finally "home." Heaven is a place that I desire to daily yearn for in increasing measure, a destination I long to see others grasp for with a heart of faith, and a homecoming I can't wait for. I want to dance on streets of gold with the God who loved me so much, He laid down the ultimate sacrifice. I have a date with my father and He is saving me a dance, preparing me a place, running to welcome me "Home."
3:40 PM
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1 comments:
No matter how many times I read this it still brings tears to my eyes. My mother is close to going "home" and while I have been able to be joyful knowing that she won't be suffering and I have been reminded that this world is not our home (to elevate my mind above the world), I have a brother who is only 15 and my Mom's husband lost his first wife to cancer as well. So I can only hope that they too realize the joyful thing that will occur, though for a while we will be without her, we will meet again in a place our minds cannot grasp.
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