Too often the answer to that question is right here, right now. I want the amazing house, the perfect lifestyle, the trendy Brighton flat within walking distance from the sea front, I want the pretty views, the relationships that will last and last, someone to come home to, something more to prevent me from floating away, I want comfortable furry things, I want, I want I want… I want it all and more. I want to know that this stuff will make me more of a person, will still the lonely ache in the bottom of my heart and make me happy.
The rational part of my brain screams at me, tells me that this stuff is temporary, not guaranteed, not the be all and end all of life. But the sound is turned down and all I can hear the the enticing voice saying that this new thing will be enough to fill the hole. The truth is, it won’t. This life should have taught me by now that nothing is certain, that things and people will not fill the hole. The ache underneath will not go away, will not be sated, will be underlying in all of this life. Not because I am an eternal pessimist. But because we were made for more than this.
We were made for a different place and until we get there we will groan, meanwhile we groan, meanwhile this planet groans. I could fill my life with stuff, I could seek the comfortable, the safe, the warm. And I do. But the warmth is a deceptive warmth, a blanket that will not ever cover me. We are strangers here, aliens and without a home. This is not our home. Home awaits, and we are to build there. Not my empire here, not a legacy of people who think I am cool, or a wonderful house, job, relationship success. These things, although wonderful special things to be delighted in when they are around, will fade and pass away.
There is more to come, there is better to come, there is a lover who calls my name and asks me to walk with him out into the rain, who says that he will be enough to cover me, who says that he will take me home. There is one who calls my name and asks me to bring others to Him, to help out in the work of eternity. To walk the path marked out for me without pridefully or enviously comparing myself to those around me. But to keep my gaze on Him who has walked this way before.
This here and now is my idol. But we have a better hope. We have the fount of living water. We have the truth that brings us freedom. We have the wisdom of God and not this world. We are called to seek heaven where it belongs, not here and now, but waiting for the Bridegroom to come. And he will. As the sun rises today, He will come. Christ has been raised. We will be too. Now we live lives that herald and announce the dawn of that hope to this messed up broken world. Where are you building heaven? What can’t you take with you when you go?