All the Real Stars

Fall is here, an early hint, heavy on the evening breeze and making me ache for something more than what I now have. What I now am. How long will this body tarry on its journey heavenward? How long will its Savior tarry on his return to earth? My bones are tired of carrying gravity and sin along with them day after day. They want to be able to see stars as they really are, without the mirror dimly. I want to be free from the need to take my own brain captive and test every thought to ensure that it aligns with Christ’s; to simply be able to do, without worry of doing wrong.

How long must the finale tarry? I am a sojourner in a foreign land, catching the scent of home on the wind as it sings trees to sleep, and it reminds me of just how far away I am. Further than stars from earth, flickering as their light refracts through the atmosphere, much like the pictures of home flicker and distort through these broken senses. We take the satellite route home, slowly drifting through the sky. Oh how I would love to be a shooting star instead; a bright burn across a sky, sputtering out as all around watch. Shooting stars make it home quicker.

But we will go home, in good time. How sweet a thought that is!  Christ said, “I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.” To be with Christ, my brother and savior and King. That is a good thing.

Autumn is closer. A night is beginning and a day ending, and I am a day closer to home. My bones still ache, and this body coughs with its frustration at earthly life. It’s tired, and I will sleep to wake up to a new day. Then, some day in the future, I will lay down to my final sleep and awake in a new world as a new man. No more mirrors or pains. Real stars.