Welcome Home (Part 2)

Welcome Home (Part 2)

      Recited like poetry, sung like the most beautiful of melodies, the contents of this book was being stamped upon my soul. Every little blessing in my life was attributed correctly by the mouth of God Himself. 

      I remembered my moments of joy and triumph in a new light. Some of these triumphs had been so layered with lies that I didn't realize I wasn't honoring Truth. Other areas of my life I had attributed wrongly to weakness or lack of faith, but my King turned my perspective upside down in this regard as well. 

      I realized near the middle of the story that this was the equivalent of a journal. Here I sat, listening to God's thoughts and feelings about everything I had ever done. He had recorded all of this for my benefit. 

      Each sentence He read continued to fill the canyon of deepest longing in me. Jesus showed me the stains from His own tears that had spilled on many of the pages in this volume. My moments of distress, even the seemingly meaningless ones, had never been ignored. The Shepherd indeed wept with His sheep. I could see tears even now in His eyes as He spoke of a trying time in my life. Yet I could see an inescapable joy there too--like the promise of a coming spring after a relentless winter. And nothing--no, nothing that had ever occurred in my life had been a waste. The effects of the smallest of actions rippled through hundreds of people's lives. 

      Ultimate fulfillment tugs at the corners of my lips. Freedom in Christ is more rich than I could ever have imagined. Seemingly trivial moments are displayed in fervent detail, and we laugh together at all of my hyper-crazed moments. At all of the humor God graced me with in my lifetime. 

      Blessing heaped upon blessing in my most dire of circumstances. The question of evil--that question of "why" that had burned a sizzling hole in my heart my entire life . . . it is now being mended and sewn with answers I thought I would never attain, answers I thought I would never be able to accept. 

      Before I know it, the story ends. I realize that this is only the first volume of an infinite amount of God's account of what will be my eternal relationship with Him. My eyes are full of tears. I can't stop crying. Jesus helps me to my feet and embraces me as I whisper my gratitude in awe over and over again. Everything He has done for me . . . overwhelming is too small a word. 

      "I understand!" I cry, looking into the face of my Savior with a new sort of love--what one may call . . . perfect. 

      "Well done, my good and faithful servant. My sacrifice has covered your shame. There is no fear here, only life--life as I've always meant it to be."