Longings

I wish I could title this post, Leggings. For something innocuous. Something silly. Something that really represents lightness of heart.

I've been thinking quite a bit about Heaven. Hopefully not in a morbid way but I wonder if as we grow in our sanctification, if the Lord develops in us a longing for it that makes this life easier to bear. How can we not, really? We're not to become mired in the things of this world, shouldn't we become entranced with what we've been promised? Is it possible that the things of this world become less satisfactory, more tiresome, less able to please, because we are awaiting the glory of the next? I don't know if it's partly getting older, or the kids growing up, or if it's stress at work, but I find that my comfort my rest my happiness my needs don't seem to be satisfied here.

From 1 Peter 1: "3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, 4 to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, 5 who by God's power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. 6 In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, 7 so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ."

Fire. I shudder. That part of it is scary. The other side to this coin is that as I am longing for Heaven, I don't want to open up. I don't want to share. I don't want to be real. I don't want to get messy with anyone. It's too hard. It's easier to pretend that things are ok, great even, and lie through my teeth. The problem is, even if I tried, I can't even express what's off.

Pray for me.