A Little Taste of Heaven

As I was going through a folder on my computer, I came across this piece I had written about 1 1/2 years ago.  At the time, the kids and I were in South Africa while Conrad was in Lesotho doing an engine change on one of the airplanes. Due to elections happening over the time Conrad was going to be gone, it was decided it would be best if the kids and I were not here by ourselves.   As I read the piece again, it was fun to remember that special time in the car.  It was good for me to be reminded again today that the "church" is global with many languages but one God.  It was refreshing for me today to once again reflect on Heaven. 

  In Mozambique, we don’t have the privilege of Christian Radio.  So on the way home from church in South Africa, my kids and I were enjoying the Christian songs being played over the radio.  My daughter commented how they would play one song in English and then the next song was in Afrikaans.  Afrikaans is the language that the white South Africans in that area of South Africa speak.  It is somewhat related to Dutch, because of the Dutch settlers that came many years ago. 

   So the English song had been played and the Afrikaans song came on.  From the back seat I hear, “Turn it up mom, we know this song.”

“But it’s being sung in Afrikaans”, I replied.

“I know but what do we call this in English?”

It was the Battle Hymn of the Republic.  I listened as the soloist belted out in Afrikaans, words that I was sure were comparable to “My eyes have seen …”  When he got to the chorus, the kids and I joined in English. “Glory, Glory Hallelujah.  Glory, Glory Hallelujah.  His truth is marching on.”   We listened to the next verse and at the chorus once again joined in heartily.  The car filled with a mix of Afrikaans and English all singing the same song to the same tune.

   It was then that I realized that we were experience a small taste of what Heave may be like.  Each person was praising God in their own heart language and it was beautiful.  The words didn’t sound the same but the message was the same. 

   This started a conversation in the car about if this was a taste of heaven.  The guy singing on the radio and us, together we were having so much fun praising God even though we weren’t speaking the same language.  We could just imagine a very diverse group of people standing before God, singing heartily “Glory, Glory Hallelujah, Glory, Glory Hallelujah. His truth is marching on.”  I could imagine the swirls of other languages around me but the tune the same, the God the same, and the purpose the same.  For that moment, two languages were united in their worship of an amazing God.  It made me long for Heaven in a new way.

Western Most Point in Europe.  

A place we enjoyed visiting in Portugal knowing our family was on the other side of the ocean loving Jesus too, even if we couldn't see them.