Towards the end of my missions trip the excitement of all the new experiences and new people I met began to wear off.  I started to miss home.  It wasn’t that I missed my house or my furniture or the view out my bedroom window.  It wasn’t event that I missed my bed (though their were some pretty rough beds I slept on in Russia).  I missed the people in my home.  I missed my wife.  I missed my children.  I missed seeing them, hearing them, touching them and being near them.

As I reflected on this, I thought about my home in heaven.  Jesus tells me he is preparing a room for me in his Father’s House (Jn. 14:1-3).  Now why is that so special?  Is it the room I look forward to?  I don’t think so.  Is it anticipation of what I’ll see out the window?  No.  What makes heaven so inviting is that Jesus will be there.  I long for heaven not because it’s some special place, but because it contains a special person.  I want to see Jesus, not a room with a view.

While I was overseas, I got to speak to my wife on the phone.  I read her text messages.  They helped me experience her nearness, even though she was over 10,000 km away.  That’s kind of like my relationship with Jesus now.  I have His living Word.  I can hear his ‘voice’ and read his text messages.  I sense his presence through the indwelling Holy Spirit. But it’s just not the same as seeing Him face to face.

I can’t wait to see him; I really can’t.

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