Echoes of my End

My Lord Jesus, coming soon, I have thought lately on what it will be like to see you, since I have not seen you but tasted many of your gifts which are but glimmers of your sweetness. Oh what shall it be unto my soul to taste and see you in your glory?

It will be at once like lying down my weary self upon a pillowed softness, sinking into sweet and restful sleep,

and like waking on a summer morning with sunshine streaming in the open window, breezes bringing scents of dewy grass and sounds of singing birds, heart thrilling with eagerness to meet the cheerful day...

like rest and like awakening at once it will be to see you.

It will be something like that irresistible awfulness felt standing in the ocean surf as its thick waves rush with foaming crests and wash with deep, wet power over me, leaving me almost breathless,

and like the solemn stillness of entering a forest glade at noon day when all is quiet, and sunshine downward streams through dappling leaves and gladdens the earth's tender grass

for your presence is at once terribly glorious and unspeakably sweet.

It will be like standing on a mountain with the forest, plains and rivers stretching on forever below, all given to my view, heart and eyes stretching to take in all the vastness

and like gazing at a tiny flower with its bright and gorgeous petals, fuzzy center, glistening stamen, focused concentration with fascination at its perfection.

for you are at once infinitely great and precisely perfect

It will be like the sound of great, sweet music, as when a mighty choir joins with flawless harmony in joyful songs; like the thrilling, dance-calling melodies of fiddles and flutes, and the songs of birds and the laughter of children, and the terrifying rumble of thunder, like those certain lovely chords of instrument or voice that strike the soul beyond the ear and make it swell with yearning

and it will be like the utter silence of a winter evening, when snow lies white and sparkling cold beneath the silver moonlight, or of a solemn, empty chapel - that awesome quietness

both the sounds and the silences are echoes of you, my Maker - oh to hear your voice!

It will be like coming home, with all the fondness of belonging and precious long familiarity - for you have been our dwelling place throughout all generations - you are the true father, brother, friend of whom all earthly relations are but ever-faulty pictures.

and it will be like stepping onto a far distant dream-shore, filled with new sights, sounds and smells that dazzle and delight the senses - for you are beyond imagination

like dearest home and wildest dream, both for which my heart does ache with longing - so shall your presence be to me.

And my soul shall be satisfied with you, as when my earthly tongue is satisfied with the first nectar-dripping bite of summer's sweet fruit, or with thick sliced bread, spread warm with butter, or with the coolness of water or the savor of fresh-salted meat, well roasted

Yet it will also be like the all-distracting hunger that comes when I am famished, and am allured by a delicious scent
for you shall be so lovely to my soul that I shall with one glimpse be more satisfied than ever I was before, yet at the same time more famished than ever before, longing for a million, trillion centuries more to taste the sweetness of yourself, and - what joy - I shall not as with earthly food grow full and heavy with those things on which I feed, but will grow ever and ever with capacities for continual satisfaction in you and continual hunger for more of you. Sweet hope - oh my soul taste this past the shadowy crumbs that thrill your earthly tongue.

Why, Lord Jesus, do I so oft forget that all earth's gifts are echoes, shadows, flickers of your self, your sweet majesty, Maker and Redeemer of all - oh why do I forget? Ever hold before my eyes the promise that my life is hid in you and that my one glad end is to behold you and be like you. I would eagerly await Your coming - You who are my all in all.

Yet I must stop, consider how it is that I who long despised you, rebelled against your rightful rule, loved self and the fast-rotting pleasures of sin and was utterly damnable for all my evils, whorings, idol-worship - how is it that I should be brought to expect the enjoyment of eternal pleasures at your right hand.

For I - Lord Jesus!...now I weep - I think on what I did deserve and all those mercy-given foretastes of what it is like to be separated from you.

It would be like the aching loneliness of being left out, as when all the children are laughing together in their play and I am seated alone to the side because they do not know me or care for my company, or as when the family is gathered around the fragrant dinner table and I lie sick abed in the next room, unable to rise or to partake in the meal because of my sickness.

and it will be like the squeezing terror of being trapped in a dark closet, hot and stifling with no one in the house to hear my bangings, cryings and open the door, and like being submerged too long in water, longing for air and fearing to drown, not breathing, lungs bursting, burning anguish…

like being both alienated outside and trapped inside will it be to be separated from you

Oh my anguish! I cannot write these things - they are too painful!

Yet these are tastes of what my sin deserved. How is it now that I am brought to hope in you, expect a joyful end?

For though you are altogether lovely, perfect, beloved by God the Father and one with Him, and had enjoyed from all eternity a whole and perfect fellowship that outshines all precious earthly ties. And though you had created us to reflect, enjoy your glory in a small but lovely way, as you had always done with your Father in a great and lovely way, we utterly despised this blessed purpose and sought to be our own god…insulted, despised, rejected, hated you - we wanted nothing of you, and how just you would have been to give us what we wanted, now and forever - separation from you. It was not only what we blindly sought, but all we deserved. Justice demanded that our crime receive its payment.

…Were you not happy in the bosom of the Father, Lord Jesus?

…Were you not content to forever behold His face, without us?

…Were you not free to damn us and uphold the glory we’d disdained?

…Were you not happy? Were you not free?

Why then, why - this garb of naked infant flesh, this holy, yet humiliating human life, this bearing of a bloody cross - and the cry “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”?

Forsaken by the Father? No!!! The horror is too dark for words. It was our rebellion that cried for separation from God. We did not care! We did not know what we had forfeited! We deserved the hellish darkness, lonely burning. Not you, Lord Jesus, not you, who knew and loved the Father, were known and loved by Him.

But here, forsaken altogether, you bore our sin - rebellion, idol-worship - all that deserved to be cast out of God’s presence you became, and thus you were cut off from His presence yourself…

…That we might be saved.

Jesus!

When I think upon the sweet hope of your coming and all the foretastes given me by grace, let me not forget how dearly these were purchased for me.

Remind me of the loveliness of your humiliation and the greatness of your sacrifice.

And this, Lord Jesus, in itself - that you are the Lamb slain for my sin - is the one thing that will make you loveliest of all before my blood-bought, wondering eyes on the day you come.

My love, I long to stand before you, trembling, smiling, hearing the voice that thrills my heart beyond all others say, "Enter into the joy of your Lord."