A Place Called Hope
A PLACE CALLED HOPE
“…looking forward to the joys of heaven...”
On the authority of God’s Holy Scripture, I want to declare to you today that heaven is a very real place. It is not a fairy tale, nor a figment of our human imagination. All those who have died in the faith, are there - are in the presence of the Lord.
Heaven – this place called “hope” - is described as being beautiful, peaceful, and awesome. Its inhabitants walk and talk with the Father, Son, Holy Spirit, and myriads of angels. The spirits of the saints of God of ages past are in heaven – Adam , Eve, Noah, Abraham, David, Mary, Peter, Paul, and all who have died in the Lord are in the great gathering of the clan in heaven. We will know each other in heaven and remember all the good we shared together. All are free from sickness, pain, death, and sorrow. And all are awaiting the new bodies that will be given them when Christ returns again. It is a place of eternal celebration and joy, where goodness, truth and splendor prevail.
As a young boy, I used to enjoy building and flying kites. I would walk down the block to the neighborhood hobby shop and buy two thin pieces of balsa wood for the crosspieces, along with about 1000 feet of lightweight and strong kite string wound around a cardboard spool. I would tie the crosspieces securely together and then string a frame around the perimeter.
For the kite “skin” or sail, I would use newspaper or cut plastic garbage bags. Then, I would place a knotted tail on the bottom end of the kite to steady it and keep it upright in the air. More or less knots would trim the sail. Lastly, I would tie my 1000 foot string roll to the crosspiece. My marvelous homemade flying machine was ready to fly!
In a field across the street from where I lived, I would run a few yards with kite in extended hand, until it became airborne. Then as the wind got caught the sail and lifted it high up into the sky, I would let out more and more string as needed. Hundreds of feet high in the air would go my kite. The string roll was hollow, in which I put a stick, so that the string could unroll freely and quickly. My thumb was the brake.
One day as my kite was flying majestically high in the atmosphere, a friend came over to me. He asked what I was doing. "Flying a kite." was my reply. He looked up at the sky and inquired, "Where is it?" I pointed and replied, "Up there". "But I can't see your kite," my friend said. The wind had blown it out of sight behind the view of some tall trees far away. I handed to kite string to my friend as I remarked, "Maybe you can't see it, but you sure can feel its pull!"
Now I said all that to say this: as a believer in Jesus Christ, I am assured of a place called hope. A place of perfect peace for every heart and soul. It is called Heaven. How about you? Can you feel its tug upon your life, drawing you to think about your eternal home? If so, praise God. If not, how come?