Oh, Heaven! I do not desire you for your mansions and incandescent splendor. Your streets of gold are appealing, but not the point. It is Who created you— the Master of your house, the Sun of your day, the cool breeze that follows His walk. How great will the peace of your land be, the solace of times, yet it is not what you give that causes this heart the ache to enter through your gates. No, it is not the people I shall see, the great reunion of loved ones that awaits. Indeed, that moment will be joyous, oh, but not the reason for this heart’s yearning— for it is not “what” but “Who”.
Heaven, you hold the Prize of all creation, the Fairest of All. In your very midst, yes, the center of your dwelling place, the One who holds every tree limb in place, conducts every tune the bird sings— the Lord of your house, Jesus. Heaven, you hold my hearts deepest of needs, an unmatchable Love, the Rescuer of my soul. Your beauty is not your streets of gold, no.
Your glory is the Lamb seated on His throne where praises surround, Majesty forever seated, the One whom your place is blessing— the praise of heaven is not the glassy sea, Cherubim or Seraphim, not Moses or Peter, no. Your glory is the Godhead three in one, the Holy Trinity, the Creators of all, most Perfect Planners, Lovers, Comforters— All Powerful, Triune God.
Heaven, you hold the One dearest to my heart, in Who I live and move and have my being. I desire You for all that He is, all that He has been and all that He will be. Heaven, you are indeed beautiful yet you would be nothing without Whom you were made to adore—His excellencies are why you exist. We all will join in with you to tell of them for eternity, this God of Heaven, makes heaven.