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.