If Heaven were Here

A caught a new thought on the winds of words from a woman I just met. As I watched the Youtube video featuring her voice slow-dancing through the verses of a poem entitled Figuring Life Out I myself figured something out. Ann said life is not an emergency, though we treat it like such.

If I made for heaven and reborn to enter into it, why can’t that be now? Why do I have to live any longer like I belong to this long lost world of fearful mistakes, and God-less days? Why do I have to wallow in self-pity and forget about the joy that came from Him just for me on the wings of this day that sin and sorrow paint so morbidly? Why do I have to miss everything that God meant for me to see and surrender to today?

If God has welcomed me into the kingdom, doesn’t this mean that He has asked me to receive heaven’s ways as my own? If anything is the standard there, why can’t it dictate its beauties of revelation and experience here to? I want to be so in the realm of God, that I hold onto what I don’t need to let go of, and release what I need to be let go of.

Why can’t I treat the world this body occupies like a moment in time that can’t and won’t distinguish every thing I do for all my days. Teach me, Lord, to wait; wait for the vision You’re processing in these dial-up days of mine. Let me watch out for what is being moved in heaven, so that I will not fail to claim the same here. I want Your reality to be my reality; so long as I am in You, they are the same.

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