Lattes, the Hallelujah Chorus, and Heaven...

My eyes are tired, but open. Propped, glazed, fixed by the caffeine I so foolishly imbibed this evening. 


My old age is peeking out. I used to be able to drink coffee at 10 p.m. and be sound asleep by 10:17. Now, after a 4 p.m. latte, I stare at my ceiling, willing myself to fall asleep.


Tonight, in my sleeplessness, I propped my chin in my hands, snuggled under my down blanket, and traced the moonlight on the tree outside my window. My eyes wouldn't close. Foot tapping, and tired eyes staring, I began to think of today.


Today was a day of exceptional blessings--worship with the family of God, coffee talks (hence the sleeplessness) with delightful sisters in Christ, singing at the top of my lungs with a mass of other believers.


Yet in all this blessing, I was rather wistful. Longing. We talked about it briefly over lattes. Despite a life full of happiness and Starbucks, I still yearn for something yet to come. As I become older, and as I see more of who I am and how truly broken and fallen the world is, I become increasingly anxious for Christ to come back. 


I want to see Him. I want to worship Him, uninterrupted, forever, free from the sin which wraps itself into the very acts which should be most honoring to Him: my prayers, my praise, my meditation. I go from praising God with every fiber of my being, to blatant pride in a split second. I'm so tired of my sin. It is forever sprouting heads like the mythological Greek Hydra... I slice off one head, only to have two more grow.


Imagine the pure, unadulterated joy of praising God. Forever. Have you ever heard a really good performance of Handel's Messiah? When the "Hallelujah Chorus" bursts onto the scene, goosebumps run up and down my arms. 


Imagine that. Only better. Fuller. With every voice of everyone who has ever proclaimed Christ as Lord joining with you. Perfectly. The thunder of the praise, bounding into the stars, spreading infinitely throughout the galaxy, proclaiming what creation has sung for years: "The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge."


And as I lay there, tracing moonlit branches, again and again, I wondered, "What am I doing? What am I doing right now to "redeem this time"?"


I know that these "days are evil," but that my purpose in proclaiming the glory of God does not start when I join the multitude in heaven. No, I am told that I am to "shine among [the world] like stars in the sky." I am already designed to portray the glory of God. Here. Now. Flawed. Sinful. Weary. God could have chosen to make me perfect at the moment of salvation, but we all know that didn't happen.


Why?


Because something that I don't understand, something in this battle, which "is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms," something about my struggle to conform to Christ, brings God more glory than immediate perfection.


So, while I wait to join in heaven's immortal "Hallelujah Chorus," am I waiting passively? Or am I actively redeeming each moment. Each second. Each action. Taking "captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ." 


Because, before I sing with that multitude, even more than worshipping with the amazing servants who have gone before, I want to hear my Savior say, "'You remain true to my name. You did not renounce your faith in me.' 'Well done...'"


How good it will be to go home...






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Scripture used:
Revelations 2:13
II Corinthians 10:5
Ephesians 6:12
Philippians 2:15
Ephesians 5:16
Psalm 19:1-2
Luke 19:17