FOODFORTHOUGHT

We used to fish together he and I. We would laugh,
get wet and examine each new lake or hole with an explorer's
passion. I taught him well, all that I knew about hooks, lures,
baits and about how that different fish would feed or react to
the taste of a sharp wire in their lip. He learned well. Matthew
loved to fish. From pond, to stream, to lake and river. Bluegills
to bass, catfish to trout, it didn't matter what kind they were, it
was the enjoyment of fishing. How many times as he was
growing he would fall behind as we waded a river or creek.
"Dad, wait up," he would call out with a grimace as he pulled
off his tennis shoes and dumped out sand and pebbles. Or
he would shout, "Just one more cast," in order to get a few
more minutes on the water.

We got good at fishing together, Matthew and I. As he
grew older he became more proficient at his art, and at the art
of living a life of grace. Shortcomings, he had his own distinct
ones, but he was never short on being a servant, expressing
gratitude, showing kindness towards others, laughing so hard
till he would fall to the floor holding his sides; genuinely caring
and praying for his lost friends, and loving others. He believed
in Jesus Christ, he knew God, and he was always learning the
Word of God.

Then Matthew, who at 13 and one half years of age, had
never really been sick, died. Suddenly, without warning, he left
us. No goodbye, just gone. And our lives changed. In a few
short minutes our lives were changed forever. A searing blade
of pain sliced through our spirits. The sorrow was so intense
that we thought that we would never recover. Even as we began
to heal in the years that followed, the enormity of his absence
never left us. Oh to see him again. To watch him smile, to hear
him laugh and sing.

And that is one reason why heaven has become so real
to me. It always has been that magnificent abode of God; it has
never been less than God's best. But I guess that I never truly
appreciated all that it is, never really grasped the satisfying
blessing of all it represents, until Matthew left us behind for his
new home over there. Then heaven truly became a much longed
for city on which I have set my sight.

Of course the great blessing of eternity will be Jesus. To
see Jesus, to serve Jesus, to worship Jesus will be our everlasting
pursuit and joy. But along with that will be the glad reunions that
take place constantly in the courts of glory. Loved ones, so
painfully separated in this life, will be so ecstatically rejoined
over there. Nevermore to roam. The circle unbroken, no sad
farewells, no tear-dimmed eyes, together once again.

One day I envisioned entering glory. So awesome was
the sight that I could hardly take it in. I entered the Holy City
through a huge gate made of a single gigantic pearl. The wall
that the gate was in was shining with the brilliance of precious
stones. The whole city glistened with the radiance of the purest
gold. The street I walked upon was transparent. So fine was
the gold that it was made upon. To think that the riches of this
earth had become the common building element of heaven.

The street that I traveled upon became a huge divided
thoroughfare leading to the throne of God and of the Lamb.
There was the Lord God, high and lifted up, and I could actually
see His face. Spontaneously I fell to my knees and praised the
One who is most holy.

Everywhere that I gazed was beautiful dwelling places.
Upward till out of sight extended structures, and levels filled
with people. There were gardens and terraces, and buildings
upon buildings. I looked up and out and as far as I could see,
saints of all ages, angels, gardens, parks, forests, lakes and
lush vegetation, golden streets, precious stones and radiant
colors filled my eyes. Everywhere the inspiring grandeur of the
surroundings overwhelmed me.

A river, awesome in its beauty and power, flowed from the
throne of God. Saints of all the ages were enjoying the serenity
of its rippling waters. Some were picking fruit from a huge tree
growing on each bank. It was the tree of life, its roots taped into
the river of life, which flowed from the throne of He who is Life
itself.

As I traveled the Highway of Holiness, I was conscious of
constantly scanning the banks of the river. I found myself
calling out, "Matthew, Matthew Hoffman--It's me, your dad,
your earthly father--Matthew." Eventually I saw a young man
{everyone there is mature--like Christ) on the river bank with
a pole in hand and line outstretched. He turned and with a
smile shouted, "Just one more cast." Then he came running
to me and we hugged, and we wept and laughed all at the
same time. Then we laughed some more. Matthew told me
some heavenly jokes that so tickled him that he had to hold
his sides as he rolled on the ground in glee. And I knew
that I was home!

Written by Jack Hoffman
Used in Tidbits with permission.

PRAYER
"Lord Jesus, through the gift of your Holy Spirit, you fill us with an indomitable spirit of praise and joy which no earthly trial can subdue. Fill me with your resurrection joy and help me to live a life of praise and thanksgiving for your glory. May I witness to those around me the joy of the gospel and the reality of your resurrection."

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