On Beginnings

I saw a great multitude, of peoples from every tribe, nation, and tongue. They had all gathered in front of a massive wall with an equally massive gate. There was an air of expectancy there but no one was jostling to get the front of the line. All of the people were talking with those around themselves. Many seemed to have met before; others had been separated by location or even time. They shared their stories; some I recognized, many I didn't. And yet, somehow, I heard them all and understood them in my own native tongue. And what I heard was amazing, to great for me to do it justice. But there was this common thread, of tragedy turned to triumph, of personal struggles becoming public edification, of being lost and then being found. And it seemed, somehow, that each story came to a climax at the same time. And though each story was different, the last word was the same, a name that made all the difference.

When that name had finally been uttered, the gate opened, and out came the hero, dressed in dazzling white and…glory? Like He had made a fabric out of splendor. Time flowed strangely again. The King was speaking intimately and personally to everyone, laying out the pattern of their lives in the tapestry of history. I began to recognize people then, though many of whom I did not know before this, and certainly not as they looked now. There are no children there, not exactly. Everyone is healthy and whole and in the prime of life. I see people I know are the great-great grandchildren of babies I know now and also my grandparents an great grandparents and more looking no older than myself. And more generations beside. I see Lewis and Wesley and Augustine and Paul and Peter and Elijah and David and Moses and Abraham and many, many more. And the First and the Last is talking to all of them, telling them all about their lives and what He did with them. And He's pointing to others who are gathered in that throng, telling them that because of their obedience, someone else got to know Him and love Him. And He tells them these words, words they had been waiting for all their lives:

"Well done, my good and faithful servant."

There were some tears then. And the Good Shepherd wiped every one of them away. I knew those would be the last tears that ever saw their cheeks. And again, He was at the gate, with a gleam in His eye and a smile on His face.

"Welcome home. Come on in."

A great cry rung out. As one, the crowd began to run. There was laughter all around and singing like I had never heard before. "Worthy is the Lamb that was Slain," sung in a thousand languages by a billion tongues in a harmony richer than ivory. An orchestra a million strong played a symphony that would have pierced the most jaded heart. It was too great for me and yet it was as if my heart had expanded to experience the joy of it. A day was like a thousand years and a thousand years were like a day and everyone finally understood what predestination was all about.

I watched them all pass into the first day of eternity. But for all I saw, all I could suddenly understand, I had a question:

"Where was I in that group?"

Jesus answered, who had been there all along:

"Oh, you were in there. I didn't want to give you any spoilers."

I get pretty quiet for a minute.

"…So, umm, how did I do?"

He puts a hand on my shoulder, looks me in the eye, and smiles.

"Didn't you hear? You did well."