Activated

Sailing Home

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I am standing on the seashore. A ship spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the ocean. I stand watching her until she fades on the horizon, and someone at my side says, “She is gone.” Gone where? The loss of sight is in me, not in her. Just at the moment when someone says, “She is gone,” there are others who are watching her coming. Other voices take up the glad shout, “Here she comes!” That is dying.
—Henry Scott Holland

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Where is there a country without sin, crime, lawlessness, bloodshed, disease, death, sorrow, or heartache? Heaven is one “country” where there is an absence of all the problems that are common to any other land, for in God’s country there are no barriers, no walls or curtains to divide; no race barriers; no soldiers, because there are no wars; no policemen or prisons, because there is no crime; no beggars, because there is no poverty, only plenty for all; no hospitals or physicians, because germs, diseases, disabilities, and sickness are unknown; no undertakers, because there is no death; no separations or broken homes, only love and harmony. What a country! Doesn’t the thought of all that make you homesick for Heaven?
—H. Lockyer, adapted

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Very often people come to me and say: “Mr. Moody, do you think we shall know each other in Heaven?” Very often it is a mother who has lost a child and wishes to see it again. Sometimes it is a child who has lost their mother or father and wants to recognize them in Heaven. There is a verse in Scripture in answer to this, and that is: “We shall be satisfied” (Psalm 17:15). It is all I want to know. We will see all those we loved on earth up there, and if we loved them here, we will love them ten thousand times more when we meet them there.
—Dwight L. Moody

Beyond

It seemeth such a little way to me
Across to that strange country—the Beyond;
And yet, not strange, for it has grown to be
The home of those of whom I am so fond. …

And so for me there is no sting to death,
And so the grave has lost its victory.
It is but crossing—with a bated breath
And white, set face—a little strip of sea
To find the loved ones waiting on the shore,
More beautiful, more precious than before.
—Ellen Wheeler Wilcox

 
 

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Author: Frederick Olson

I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.

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