Tears in Heaven

I am astounded to discover that I either missed something – or I forgot – often.

Initially this worried me. As many times as I have read the Bible, I don’t remember catching the whole meaning of a verse I memorized early on in my walk with Jesus:

For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; ‘he will lead them to springs of living water.

‘And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.’
Rev 7:17 (NIV)

Emphasis on the remember part of my opening sentence. This got me wondering how many times I’ve parroted the words, “there are no tears in heaven.” I’m not gonna lie, the thought made me shiver a little.

Ahem. It stands to reason that, since “God will wipe away every tear from their eyes, there will be tears – in heaven.”*

So immediately following this profound revelation (or review, whatever) I initially felt a little frightened at the thought of having misled loved ones.

But wait, there’s more:

“…he will swallow up death forever.
The Sovereign Lord will wipe away the tears from all faces;
He will remove his people’s disgrace from all the earth.
The Lord has spoken.”
Isaiah 25:8 (NIV)

Whew! My bad, but thanks to Jesus it’s not on me. Or on Eric Clapton either.

Initially I like the image of heaven without tears. But in heaven God heals each wound once and for all – finally and for evermore.

That’s not to say we won’t all account for our every word and deed. We will – good, not-so-good and bad. I don’t like to admit I have much to be ashamed of and to weep over. Even so, we get to ask forgiveness. What’s more, we don’t have to wait – we can be forgiven now. And then we get heaven! YEAH!!

With such a subjective memory as mine, today I must declare:

“Surely this is our God; we trusted in him, and he saved us. This is the Lord, we trusted in him; let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation.”
Isaiah 25:9 (NIV)

… And God will help me to never forget it!

 

*David Jeremiah, Turning Point, Tribulation Harvest, Part 2 teaching series available on Youtube.

Image courtesy Pixabay

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Passed St. Pat’s

No matter where in the world my siblings ever were, on St. Patrick’s Day we always celebrated our heritage, our family and our life together. ‘Tis tradition, don’cha know.

I admit, I did not celebrate this year, my first year back home. Three years ago, almost to the minute I’m now writing, my younger brother Seagh’s heart ruptured, he laid down his Harley, shook himself off and then walked into The Great Beyond. That moment changed everything.

We all adore our darling Seagh. Even as a small boy, he demonstrated extraordinary wisdom. We all came to depend upon him, especially when emotions ran rampant or hard times made our choices seem vague.

Over the years Seagh was always my greatest comfort, my touchstone, helping me make sense of the madness that seemed to be constantly lurking nearby.

 

 

After the years he roamed the globe he came home to the family and finally the ranch. For the brief season we were all here together I was entirely contented. I wanted us to stay together and to never leave.

But Seagh always knew something, saw something the rest of us missed. He insisted I stay close to our baby sister, Roan; “She’ll crash and burn without you.” Eventually I resigned to move on to Texas with her. Weeks later I understood why he sent me. Seagh already knew he too would be moving on soon.

Two years after his passing Roan and I were settled in Texas. Then I moved on again. We remain connected across the miles and continue on together – but differently now. Seagh dying when he did seemed to make the world a darker, sadder place and I couldn’t fix that.

It seemed.

Cole and Seagh 2012

Now Roan has Opal and her entourage in Texas. I am at home here at the ranch. I walk where Seagh walked along with Cole, Kendra and Eleven-Year-Old.

Sometimes I believe I can see the world as Seagh saw it. Very often I think I can see his unmistakable stance in the lot or where the patio used to be, one hand in a pocket, the other holding a mug, always taking in life deeply. Sure, I miss hearing him speak his few, pointed words daily. But I hear him.

I can’t conjure up his image on demand. But in the still, quiet of a peaceful day and in the midst of turmoil, I remember his words. When I don’t expect it, they come to me like rain on parched ground. Looking skyward, I soak them in, “You shouldn’t wonder about my soul. God and I are good now.”

Seagh’s death did not end him. Love lives on.

Absolutely.

“I thank my God in all my remembrance of you. … And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” Philippians 1: 3, 6 (NLT)

For Seagh:

Feature Image courtesy of Gigi @ A Warm Hello.com