After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words. —1 THESSALONIANS 4:17–18 (NIV)
THE SIGN READ: Stay Three Feet from Fence.
My family and I were west of Denver when we stopped at a rest area. A tall chain-link fence ran along the back of the property. The same warning sign was repeated every twenty feet.
What’s the big deal?
Then I noticed. Beyond the fence, a herd of wild bison rested in the grass—a sanctuary for these animals.
I crept closer, snapping photos on my phone. But every shot was ruined with that stupid fence in the foreground. To get a decent photo, I’d have to ignore the warning sign and touch the fence.
I looked around. There was no security guard. A baby bison inched its way closer to the fence.
Come on, little one, walk over here.
If I could reach my finger through and just touch its fur, I’d be satisfied. But a park ranger walked by, and I didn’t want to get fined. So I controlled myself.
How often I have the same urge to touch heaven—to experience something so real yet so unreachable.
Like my desire to touch that wild animal through the enclosure, I find myself eager to experience eternity. But there’s this stupid fence called mortal life, a shell that separates me from my true home.
I long to be released from this rest area called Earth, to see God face-to-face and experience wonders much more magnificent than this wild bison herd.
Talking about eternity stirs up the desire to be there. One day, we will all climb over that fence, and it’s going to be glorious.
God, when cares of life overwhelm me, help me remember this world is only temporary. Even if I can’t touch it, I know you’re preparing a place for me beyond my wildest dreams. Amen.