O Lord… Ancient of Days, You who were before the mountains rose, before the stars knew how to sing I am old, but You are eternal. And in this worn and waiting heart, there still burns a fire You are coming. You have come. You will come again.
“From everlasting to everlasting, You are God.” (Psalm 90:2)
I remember the stories, not just from scrolls, but from the aching voices of saints who saw by faith.
I remember Eve, clinging to a promise in the dark “The Seed of the woman will crush the serpent’s head.” (Genesis 3:15)
I remember Abraham, who walked into the unknown, looking for “the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God.” (Hebrews 11:10)
I remember Moses, who stood on holy ground and saw the back of glory pass by. He told us, “The Lord your God will raise up for you a Prophet like me… to Him you shall listen.” (Deuteronomy 18:15)
I remember David, the king with harp and heart, who sang, “You will not abandon my soul to Sheol, nor let Your Holy One see decay.” (Psalm 16:10) And again, “The Lord said to my Lord, sit at My right hand…” (Psalm 110:1)
They all saw shadows. They all waited.
And then You came. Not in thunder, but in a manger. Not with armies, but with mercy. Not to condemn, but to carry. “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us…” (John 1:14) “Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows…” (Isaiah 53:4) “He humbled Himself… even to death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:8)
We broke the branches, we laid down our cloaks, we sang, “Hosanna! Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!” (Matthew 21:9; Psalm 118:26) But we did not know what it would cost You. Still, You came closer.
You died in silence, You rose in victory, and You left with a promise.
“I go to prepare a place for you… and I will come again.” (John 14:3)
Now I live here between the comings, between Bethlehem and the clouds, between dust and glory.
And I cry out for every weary soul
“Come, Lord Jesus.” (Revelation 22:20)
Come to the tired, the torn, the trembling. Come to the mothers who have buried, the fathers who have wandered, the children who feel forgotten. Come to the forgotten pews and the overflowing graves. Come to the saints who wait in stillness.
We believe in that land, Lord a place where no tear dares to fall, where no pain lingers, where joy never says goodbye.
“There shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.” (Revelation 21:4)
“In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye… the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed.” (1 Corinthians 15:52)
We will walk where flowers do not fade. We will sing with voices no longer frail. We will laugh with those who’ve gone before, and we will never grow old.
Until then, Jesus teach us to wait with oil in our lamps. Teach us to suffer with hope. Teach us to carry resurrection in our bones.
Because we are not just passing through we are pressing toward. “Our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.” (Philippians 3:20)
So come. Not just to end sorrow but to begin the forever.
And when that trumpet sounds, and the earth shakes with joy, let us be found singing
“In a land where we’ll never grow old.”
Amen.