To See His Face

One day closer to Heaven.

It’s some kind of vision, one that I see over and over again. Especially when I’m this exhausted. It’s a combination between a faint, blurry memory and a vision of the future. I see it over and over, involuntarily, whenever pain reaches and tears open my fragile heart. In this valley of tears, that happens more often than I like to admit.

I sometimes fail to understand why we were left to fend for ourselves in this desert. I look around and I see pain in every face. A desperate need for reassurance. Solitude. Shattered hearts. Hidden wounds.

We need someone to tell us that it’ll be alright. I need to hear it too. I’ve been walking across this desert for a while now, and sometimes I’m just not so sure. I try my best. I hang on to any strand of faith I can. I keep walking forward, with nothing but the hope that His promises are true. I only manage to keep going by reminding myself that every step that I take, that every wound that opens up, is getting me one bit closer to Heaven.

I am now fully convinced that nothing in this world will satisfy my sorrowful heart. It’s scary to realize this, because when you remove the possibility of finding rest in the things you can see, all you’re left with is the hope that the things you cannot see will fill the void. When I get to the end of every day, and feel unsatisfied even when there’s no reason to, I remind myself, that if I do things right, if I have enough faith, every day is moving me closer to Heaven, where I will finally fill the emptiness in my heart. Sometimes this helps me find peace. Sometimes fear wins.

And yet, any time I start doubting, a vision resurfaces.

I see myself at the very end of my life, lying on a bed in a big wooden house. It’s obvious that I’m dying. My family is around me. My wife holds my hand and my children hold my grandchildren in their arms while they look at me with deep sorrow. My eyes are open but I’m not looking at them. I am drawing my final breaths on that old bed but in reality I’m somewhere else entirely. I am walking up a mountain, and close to reaching the mountaintop. There is not a cloud in the sky. This is a place I’ve never been to, and yet it feels strangely familiar.

As I reach the peak, there is someone there waiting for me. In the real world, my eyes are slowly closing as my wife sheds a tear by my side. In the vision that I’m seeing, I am overcome by joy as I go to meet the man who’s waiting for me. He stretches His hand to me, and I gaze upon His face, as I draw my final breath in that big old bed. I am passing on to the next world and I feel, for the first time, satisfied. At peace.

The vision of my death brings me peace while still living. I believe this is how God reassures me. I believe that is how He tells me that everything is going to be alright. Because every time I suffer, every time I struggle, every time the wounds I’ve accumulated in my heart open up and start bleeding me dry, I think of the day when I’ll finally see the face of my Savior, and see Him smile as He calls me by my name. He tells me that I did things right. That I can finally rest. That He saw me and He’s proud of me.

I am able to keep walking in this desert, in this exile, in this valley of tears, because God has shown me that He waits for me, He has shown me He’ll be my refuge, even while still here, on earth.

I can only hope that when everything’s said and done, God will want me in His presence. I can only hope that at the end, I am worthy of seeing the face of Jesus and that He’ll be proud of who I was. I hope I won’t betray Him. I hope He tells me I did good.

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