A Gaze Set on Heaven

More than I have in a while, I found myself longing deeply for heaven this week.

I recently started incorporating The Valley of Vision into my time with the Lord again. And before you marvel at how I as a mom of a toddler make the time, know that I mean “time with the Lord” very loosely. It’s usually very interrupted, involves me rereading the same passage of scripture 7 times before I can even piece together what it says, and washing pen marks off little hands because she inevitably finds a pen buried somewhere in the recesses of our couch so she can “draw” in her Bible just like Mommy. 

As much as this time has been radically different than the hour of silent meditation and study of my college days, it’s been the single thing that has carried me through this month’s sleep regression and pregnancy woes.

If you too are a lover of theologically dense reading or quite simple means to deepen your prayers, I highly recommend purchasing a copy of The Valley of Vision. It is a book of short Puritan prayers that span adoration of the gospel to suffering to sleep. There’s rich gospel truth in every prayer. And as a pregnant mom of a busy two year old, I need as much help pointing my prayers and my heart in the direction of the true calling of the Gospel as often as possible. 

And this week, in His providence, the Lord brought me to several prayers in this book that highlight Heaven in one way or another. Be it longing for Heaven for the eternal rest of Christ or a plea for my heart to be tuned towards Heaven, waiting for the redemption the Lord has promised, I’ve been pointed beyond this life in each prayer I’ve read. 

I’ll confess, aside from praying for my children to accept the salvation offered through Jesus, I don’t think of eternity all too much. It’s hard to look beyond the next cup of coffee when you’re running on 6 hours of broken sleep or just trying to stay on top of the never-ending dishes that accompany being at home. 

But each morning, as I prepared for the day ahead, for the moments laid out in front of me to be a witness to my family, my heart was tugged to look beyond this life.

I’m 26. I assume, like most, that I’ll have much more race to run. In many ways, I’m just getting started, settling into the pace that’ll carry me through this life, preparing in the ways I can now to finish strong when I reach the end someday. And knowing that even though there’s much work to do in front of me, I know I’m preparing now for an eternal rest.

I come to the end of most days satisfied. The kind of satisfied you may feel as you light a candle and sink into your couch to admire your work after you deep cleaned your whole house or the kind you may feel as you collapse into bed after a long day outside, soaking in nature and vitamin D and every good thing God offers us outdoors. I too feel the weight lift off my shoulders as I slide my kindle out of it’s sleeve and listen to the hum of the dishwasher and the hiss of the noise machine, a soft chorus of bedtime in my home. 

And my gaze has been gently redirected heavenward each morning, I’ve been encouraged by the truth that at the end of my days, Lord-willing when I’m old and wrinkly and have a head full of grey hair, that the final sigh of completion I breathe as I see my Savior’s face will be more fulfilling than any earthy rest I will ever experience in this lifetime. 

And maybe you know this feeling too.

No matter how clean we get our floors, how empty our dishwasher is, how barren our dirty laundry hampers, we will never find reprieve from the tasks of worship that God calls us to as women ministering to our homes. There will always be more dishes, always be more discipline for our children, always be more sleepless nights. But we can be strengthened in knowing that as we live our Colossians 3:23-24 and 1 Corinthians 10:31, that our seemingly unending and mundane work done here on earth isn’t just about living to the next day, it’s worship. 

We are living our lives weary but full of worship. 

Maybe you’re in the throws of toddlerhood. Maybe you have big kids and you’re not finding yourself holding pudgy hands as you sing your babies to sleep. Maybe you’re not even a mom, just a woman who is growing weary of doing the good of stewarding well what God has given you. 

There is hope. Our bodies may grow tired, but Galatians 6:9 encourages us to not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.

We won’t just reap the reward of clean clothes and hot meals. We will reap the reward of eternal rest with our Savior.

And what a joy it will be to enter eternity knowing we’ve poured our lives into worship in the most mundane of moments.