Tuesday, September 8, 2015

New Earth or Why I want the Windows Open


The TV weather forecaster has been predicting 90 degree days for the past week.  As a result, we have had the windows closed and the air conditioning on.tree for blogger bkgd (768x1024) 

When windows and doors are closed, it’s ethereally quiet.  I don’t hear the crickets, frogs, birds, squirrels, or the wind in the trees.  I don’t hear the automobiles with squealing breaks or trucks’ rumbling engines.  I don’t hear neighbors’ cars starting and pulling away or their children’s voices protesting.  Silence reigns with intermittent thunders of airplanes and helicopters, and the quiet hums from my computer and the refrigerator.  It seems lonely and sad—like death--a body surrounded by glass and timber—coffined--where outside, somewhere, a hostile but desperately desired world awaits.  

This morning, standing at the kitchen sink, which no longer even drips, drips, drips because the faucet is new, I realized that I was being given a foretaste of the new heaven and earth where the Holy One himself will be our light, a light without heat, a temperature fit—as we seem currently unfit to survive hot humid days and cold winter nights--for our perfect enjoyment.  Then the windows will be flung open for us and the sound of birds, crickets, all the animals and insects will meet our ears, far clearer and sweeter than we perceive them now.  The shouts and cries of our neighbors will be music.  Though now we see through dim eyes and clouded glass, then we will see face to face, truly see colors beyond compare, a green bower greener than green, a bluer than blue sky.  Although we cannot perceive it now, save in glimpses from a kitchen sink, our real home, our true abode awaits.  Even so, Come Lord Jesus!

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