He moves slowly, far off in the distance, but not so far as when He started. There is no hurry to His pace, no rush to His movement. He strolls along as if He has all the time in the world, knowing He will arrive at the precise moment planned since before this all began.
The line is so long, but no one is impatient, nor does He seem weary. They all stand at attention, waiting, looking around with smiles on their faces and chatting quietly—but their gaze keeps returning to Him. How could it not?
He is light. Brilliance. Majesty. There is not the slightest sliver of darkness on His countenance, not one whiff of the death that clogged their noses all their earthly lives. He is the essence of all they had longed for and hoped for and hung on to with every fiber of their being—and He is so much more. You can see it on their faces. Their very postures speak of faith realized. Chains dissolved. Evil undone.
He stops to hug and speak with each one. Each child torn by the rack. Burned at the stake. Crucified upside down. Those starved in a ditch. Smashed by a stone. Sawn in two. Each who stayed behind in the plague to help in His name and then succumbed to the same gruesome death. Those forced to flee in the night. Who lost family. Who broke friendships. Those who left mother and father and friends and fields behind, standing next to those who look very different and speak a different language, but bear the sibling resemblance nonetheless.
Those who were bent, stand tall. Those who were battered, without pain. Those who were split right down the middle, reflecting His light with such brilliance it blinds your gaze.
He talks quietly with each one before moving on, none left feeling their time too short.
And the energy is building. The excitement. The hum of expectation. They are able to see through the one-way mirror that blinds us, allowing them to watch our struggle as we put one foot in front of the other, gasping at times, yet moving forward. They see our efforts, our hopes, our battles against despair. They see how we keep checking our side of the mirror, unrealized expectation on our faces. That wretched veil that blinds us holds nothing from their gaze as they cheer us on and wait with us.
He’s approaching the veil, and though the line keeps getting longer, joy swells the crowd as He ever so slowly moves closer to it. Exactly on time, He is coming.
Wow, what a beautiful picture of the other side of the mirror. We so quickly forget to focus on Him and trust He is coming in His perfect timing!!❤❤❤🙌☝