Imagine the Day We Arrive in Glory
“Dedicated To Cana Rose”
Try to imagine what that day will be like. That moment when everything changes—when we leave behind the brokenness, the pain, the struggles of this world, and step into eternity. I try to picture it sometimes. I close my eyes and wonder what it’s going to feel like when we arrive, when we stand in the presence of God, when our eyes first lay hold of the place He has prepared for us.
What will it look like? What will it feel like? What will our hearts do when we finally see it? Honestly, I don’t believe anyone on this earth can truly comprehend the beauty that the Lord has waiting for His people. Our human minds simply aren’t capable of grasping the fullness of His glory. And yet, God gives us glimpses in His Word—hints of what’s to come, promises of what He’s building for us even now.
In the Bible, God tells us He is preparing a new heaven and a new earth, and that the former things—the pain, the sorrow, the sickness—will pass away. That means this earth, as we know it, will no longer exist. It will be completely renewed. Transformed. Replaced with something greater than anything we’ve ever seen or felt. That’s hard to fully take in. But it’s also one of the most beautiful promises in all of Scripture.
Sometimes I look around this world and think, “If this is the broken version, if this is the fallen earth—imagine what the redeemed one will be like.” Think of it. When we, as God’s children, are finally in heaven—finally home—we’ll be in a place where there are no limits. A place where we can move freely, without pain or sorrow. A place where we are truly, finally with Him.
There will be no more clocks ticking away the hours of our days. No more deadlines. No more worries about tomorrow. We’ll be in the presence of our Creator, and everything—will be made new. We’ll walk through meadows so vivid with color that they’ll make even the most beautiful landscapes here on earth seem dull in comparison. We’ll hear waterfalls cascading down in harmony, see trees that stretch into the heavens, and walk beside rivers so pure and clear they shine like crystal.
There will be animals we’ve never seen before—creatures that reveal God’s creativity in ways we can’t imagine. There will be food with flavors we’ve never tasted—meals shared with people from every nation, every tribe, every tongue, gathered together in joy and love. Can you picture it? The sights. The sounds. The fragrances in the air. The laughter of saints. The music of angels.
And maybe—just maybe—we’ll be able to explore beyond what we’ve known. Maybe heaven stretches beyond this new earth into galaxies and dimensions we’ve never touched. Maybe we’ll be able to travel to places we never dreamed of, simply by thinking of them. Maybe we’ll meet others—other beings God created in the vastness of His universe. People like us, who also worship Him, who have gone through their own journeys of faith and redemption.
Some might scoff at that. Some might say, “That’s just science fiction. There’s no life beyond earth.” But who are we to limit God? Who are we to put boundaries on the Creator of the universe? His Word tells us He made the stars, the galaxies, the heavens. Why would we think we’re the only ones in His grand design?
We don’t know everything about heaven. But we know enough to trust that it’s beyond anything we can imagine. We know that there will be no danger. No fear. No pain. No sickness. We will live in perfect peace. Joy will be our constant companion. Laughter will echo through the halls of eternity. We’ll have the freedom to explore, to create, to rejoice.
And we will know one another. Family. Friends. Loved ones we’ve missed. We’ll see them again. We’ll embrace them. We’ll walk together through the fields of heaven, hand in hand, heart to heart, without ever having to say goodbye again.
During the time I was in a coma, I had a dream. A vision, really. I walked up to a home, out in the countryside. It wasn’t grand or elaborate. It wasn’t a mansion with gold gates or crystal walls. It was simple. Peaceful. A two-story house with slate-gray siding. It looked like it had just been built—brand new furniture inside, everything clean and untouched. I walked through the living room, saw the television, the kitchen. It felt… right. Like it had always belonged to me. Like I had come home.
I walked out the back door, and there was a pickup truck, a tractor, a barn. Rolling fields as far as the eye could see. And it hit me—that was my dream home. Not just something I’d want in this life, but a glimpse, I believe, of what God has prepared for me in eternity. A place that fits me, that welcomes me. A place filled with peace and joy.
And maybe, in that new world, we’ll be able to travel anywhere we want—just by thinking about it. Maybe we’ll have a device—a small sphere we can hold in our hands—that lets us communicate across time and space. A tool that helps us connect with friends and family across the universe. A guide that helps us navigate our new adventure. Maybe it will show us where we need to go and what we need to see, always keeping us connected to the heart of God’s creation.
Just imagine: someone walks up to you and says, “Where are you from?” And you answer, “Earth.” And they smile and say, “I’ve heard of it. Will you show me someday?” What joy, what wonder, what endless possibilities await us in the Kingdom of God.
This place we’re going to—it will be everything we’ve ever longed for and more. No more hospitals. No more broken hearts. No more depression. No more poverty. No more injustice. Just wholeness. Just peace. Just love.
And the most incredible part? We’ll be with Jesus. Face to face. We’ll see the One who gave His life for ours. The One who bore the cross so we could wear a crown. The One who said, “I go to prepare a place for you.” And when we step into that place, we’ll know—we are finally home.
So I hold on to that promise. I carry it with me through the hard days. I remind myself of it when I’m weary, when I’m hurting, when I feel like giving up. Because I know the day is coming. I know that soon, whether in the blink of an eye or in the stillness of my final breath, I will go home. And I can’t wait.
I can’t wait to run through those fields. I can’t wait to dive into those waters. I can’t wait to hear the music, to laugh with loved ones, to discover new places, to eat new foods, to see the face of my Savior. I can’t wait to live—truly live—in a world where there is no end, where every day is full of glory, where my heart is never empty and my soul never weary.
That is the hope I cling to. That is the future I believe in. That is the promise God gave us.
And I, for one, cannot wait to go home.
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