Glory

As I was preparing to close the day yesterday, a message from the dear brother we visited came in. The Lord had finally taken his mother home. For a moment I paused from activity and breathed a sigh of thankfulness. The longing her children had for her pain to end was mercifully heard. On this earth we can only yearn for the end of our pains, but the Lord wills to free us from it. How precious are His thoughts towards His children. How great is the sum of them! If we were to count them they would be more in number than the sand on the sea. (Psalm 139)


It was endearing gesture to receive this image. I wanted to have taken this myself last time I was with her but was not able to. She was on her way to the hospital for treatment then. I have this habit of snapping moments in my head and spending time to gather my thoughts about what I saw; she was on her way out for temporal treatment, but in truth, it was a day's march nearer home. For a saint of the Lord, death does nothing more than to carry them to the arms of the loving Savior. I look forward to it. There is nothing on earth that would make me regret to leave it. Death is the gateway to final glorification, rest, and joy. Job declares, 'and though after my earthly body is finally destroyed and decayed and my flesh in consumed within me, yet I will behold the face of my Redeemer, whom I shall see with my own eyes.' I have nothing to fear, and every promise to look forward to.
Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints. O LORD, truly I am thy servant; I am thy servant, and the son of thine handmaid:
thou hast loosed my bonds.
Psalm 116:15-16
And when Jesus saw her, he called her to him, and said unto her,
Woman, you are freed from from infirmity.
Luke 13:12
For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory.
O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? 
1 Corinthians 15:53-55

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