This is like real-time breaking news!

Adam and I are having a G-conversation as I type.  That is, Google Chat, for all you tech-unsavvies.

We’re talking about home, the soul’s desire for wholeness.  I have just said that one has to believe there is only an endless search for home, if you’re looking for it in this life, and no soul finds it until he or she comes to Heaven.


This has been a subject most inspiring and terrifying, for me.  Leaving inspiration [ecstatic-ness] aside as somewhat self-explanatory, it is terrifying to imagine this:  You come to your final moments, and you have the fortune (good or ill is subjective) to see it coming.  Your last breath, and you will feel your spirit leave your body.

But will you?  Is there a spirit in you, that will then leave when your body dies?

Or is that it?  [Black]  Do you close your eyes, and like an insignificant movie, you are never animated again?

(Life everlasting)

I’ve had to remind myself to believe this, or else my trust is vastly inconsistent with my thoughts.  And, so often, I am wanting for the kind of joy one might expect of a man who eagerly awaits the promises of Heaven.

That’s a funny thing, trust.  (Joy unimagined)  What would happen, I wonder, if I ever truly accepted the reality of Heaven?  If it was so joyfully inevitable to me, like family parties when I was a child, that I could not keep from singing?

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