What's Glorious

The other day I had to undertake the bittersweet task of removing the last few items from the sailboat we have enjoyed so much for five summers. It was sweet because being aboard, even in the frozen yard, brings back fond memories and bitter because we have had to give her up against our will. While there is a “new” boat across town, there will be long days of waiting and preparation before she will take us sailing.

Winter is always hard on a Michigan sailor. The cheery wavelets that bounce warm sunlight into laughing eyes are replaced by a flat, featureless surface of snow-swept ice that mocks a sailor’s desire. The warm winds that caress the summer sails have become cold shrieks in the icy rigging. Shakespeare was right to speak of “our winter of discontent.”

In his book, Desire, John Eldridge reminds me that perhaps I should not waste seasonal sadness, but use it instead to bank the fires of hope for the future. He reminds me that after each pale Michigan winter there is a glorious green spring. And this, Eldridge says, is the perfect metaphor for what we hope for if we believe in something called Heaven. Sometimes Christians seem underwhelmed by the thought of Heaven – all that floating on clouds, playing harps and singing hymns or whatever. Even though Heaven is called “glorious,” we seldom get really excited about it. I don’t think we have a clue what glorious is.

A sailor can picture a perfect seventy degree July afternoon on Lake Michigan with a 10-12 knot southwesterly breeze filling the sails and the boat heeling just enough to get that ideal magical mystery canvas miracle going. The hull slices through the waves, rolling the bow wake into a burbling song of peaceful contentment. That is glorious.

Most people can remember a beautiful sunset. The sky gets painted in hues of yellow, gold, lavender and pink with such artistry that it takes your breath away. Just as the last glow fades in the west, the moon rises above the eastern horizon while the first star punctuates the blue-black sky. That is glorious.

Parents may have experienced the wonder of a child laid on her mother’s breast after long hours of labor and tears. But then they look at the tiny pink bundle that is the dearest thing on earth and can’t believe they have been a party to such a miracle. That is glorious.

Music lovers might have been to a concert where they marveled as a gifted pianist skillfully coaxed a Beethoven sonata out of a Steinway. They may have found that the music was played with such artistry and passion that it made tears come to their eyes. That is glorious.

Or there was that little Italian restaurant in downtown Columbus, Indiana, of all places. As an appetizer they served a butternut squash soup that had a sweet, creamy taste that makes my mouth water to think of it. The main course was chicken Marsala that was so rich and savory that my taste buds could barely register the full delight. That was glorious.

The Bible calls us to taste and see that the Lord is good. It is not wrong to make comparisons between the earthly pleasures we know and the eternal pleasures that await. We just need to maintain the correct perspective. Hear anew the words of the Apostle when he says that you have neither seen nor heard anything like, nor have your wildest imaginings begun to prepare you for what God has waiting for us in Eternity. That will be glorious.

Come, Spring.