And In That Day

What WILL it be like?

To see the unseen. To hear sounds that pour into the consciousness through ancient channels seemingly carved by trickling, echoing memories. To feel THAT breeze on the cheek.

It will be deeper than words. Words skim the surface of the Universe, but cannot grasp the limitless possibilities that dwell beneath its chemical sparkles. Words peer into the light, but they are dark, empty creatures struggling to comprehend infinity with the wisdom of the unwise. Perhaps imagination is more powerful than words? Could it be that the brain thinks things that it cannot express with consonants and vowels?

But imagination is splintered by the unimaginable realities of living on a snarling, savage planet. A planet that spins through space, bearing an impossible burden of tragedy and fear. Dreams are beasts carrying the heavy load of experiences that can only drag them down rather than lift them up. Dreamers think they are flying free, but are merely drifting on sad seas of disappointment in sinking boats papered over with conjured hope. Words may fail, but dreams leave scars.

What WILL it be like?

To be free of that burden of tragedy and fear. To be free of the relentless pursuit of freedom. To be free of the unbearable darkness of being. To be free of self - for THAT is what restrains and restricts and reduces and reveals. Self reveals limitations that tug at the soul. Self is a concrete balloon that anchors the spirit to the unknown depths of despair. Oh, the sun still shines, and the birds sing sweetly. The ice-cream still tastes good, and there are moments when joy threatens to break through. But self doesn't understand joy. Self won't allow joy to do its painful work on the hardened heart.

What WILL it be like?

Self sings the siren's song of shallow satisfaction. Self seeks security in stuff and status. Self wants to be on top of the world - or more accurately, wants to have the world under its feet. Self is deaf, dumb, blind and unkind. Self thinks it sees clearly, but all it sees is inside of its cell. Self thinks it hears clearly, but all it hears is the call of wealth. Self thinks it speaks clearly, but it only speaks of its own health.

Self is death.

What WILL it be like?

To be dead to self.

And in that day
shall the deaf
hear the words of the book,
and the eyes of the blind
shall see out of obscurity,
and out of darkness.
And the loftiness of man
shall be bowed down,
and the haughtiness of men
shall be made low:
and the LORD alone
shall be exalted in that day.
And it shall be said in that day,
Lo, this is our God;
we have waited for him,
and he will save us:
this is the LORD;
we have waited for him,
we will be glad and rejoice in his salvation.
In that day shall the LORD of hosts
be for a crown of glory,
and for a diadem of beauty,
unto the residue of his people...
[Quotes from the prophet Isaiah]