There’s this vision I have.
I’ve had it for several years now.
It’s me, crawling across a rocky, barren desert. The horizon is expansive and there are dark, angry clouds hanging low in the sky. Before me is a line on the ground that stretches as far as the eye can see…
I’m tired. I can’t breathe and my throat is so dry I can’t swallow. My tongue is swollen and my eyes sting from the sweat that keeps streaming down my head. My clothes are torn, and my body is covered in bruises, scrapes and cuts that are bleeding. Every muscle aches, but I continue to crawl…
It seems like I’ll never get to that line, though I know I have to. Something tells me that I’ve lost a lot along the way…my dignity, my pride and a slew of other humanity soaked conventions. So I crawl and crawl…slowly.
Finally, I put my hand on that line.
I don’t really know at first what I’m supposed to do next, and then I feel something. A pair of hands, gently but surely reaching under my chin. Slowly, the hands lift my sweat-soaked head and I find myself staring into the eyes of my savior, Christ Jesus. He is kneeling in front of me. He’s smiling kindly, without a hint of the mischief that I know he’s capable of.
“Look at you,” he says softly.
I began to whimper first. My tongue is so swollen I can barely speak.
“Look at me what?”
“You made it.”
“I made it? I made it where,” I ask.
“To the end.”
He slowly stands me up and I look out across the barren wasteland. Far down the line, I see a few more weary souls crossing the line. There are much fewer people here than I expected. Somehow, I thought Heaven would be full.
Then I realize this isn’t about Heaven.
“Rob. I’m so very proud of you,” He whispers.
It’s about life.
And I begin to sob.
Rob, as you already know, I understand this imagery all too well. Right now, I’m not sure I even see that line. I could also really use those hands right now. Thanks, though, for making sure I haven’t crawled alone.