And one day, Heaven
We’re walking along, The Mister and I, down our country road. Fields lie bare on either hand, having felt the cut of the combine’s blade. Night is falling, and behind us the darkness comes. But before us…oh, there shines the sun.
“Day is dying in the west.” Looking full at the glory ahead, I remember this song, and like that, I’m a girl again, sitting on a hard, wooden pew in my hometown country church.
Across the western sky, Someone, the Creator, has taken a brush, emblazoning a wild band of orange straight ‘cross the horizon just where sky meets earth. “Hey, that matches my purse!” I exclaim. The Mister, he laughs out loud, knowing his girl and her fondness for her bright orange handbag.
The clouds, I see, are hanging low, swelling there on the very edge of the world. Coming up the rise, I look down the trail, and there at the end is a bank of those billowing clouds. The road, it’s disappearing into the clouds, just as though we could walk right into Heaven.
I can’t stop looking at the lavish display. That brilliant orange fading up into pink. Trees, farms, houses outlined in black against the fiery horizon. There, before our very eyes, God has come to earth.
Dying sun, beautiful colors. The creativity of God and the promise of Heaven.
We’re still walking. The sun, it’s still dying, and the night’s closing in, snuffing out the light.
Dying, beauty. Outrageous creativity and the promise of Heaven. God, in very truth, coming to earth.
If I could invite you in to my home, I’d tell you a story. A story about learning to die, and a story of great beauty. How one leads to the other, and all is well. I’d tell you a story of God’s wild creativity – for the now and the here – and after that, Heaven’s promise.
I’d tell you how very many ways He comes to earth every single day. How you can see Him if you have seeing eyes and hear Him if you have those ears. That He’s here all the time, and all’s well, so keep walking.
We finish our walk, turning into the lane. Night is here, but not for forever. The lights of home, they beckon, and we step into the warmth.
…And one day, Heaven, so keep walking.