The Lord’s rescued ones will return. They will enter Zion with singing—their heads crowned with everlasting joy. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away. “I, yes I, am the one who comforts you.” Isa. 51:11–12
Father, right out of the worship-gate, I love the “will-ness” and assurance of these promises of our “already-and-not-yet.” You’re not describing things that might happen, but are underway and will happen in fullness. Hallelujah, and thank you. Nothing and no one will keep us from enjoying the fullness of the eternal life Jesus has won for us.
Through our union with Christ, we are already living in the kingdom of your dearly loved Son and the eternal year of your favor—in the rarified air of your delight and the perpetual embrace of your grace. This isn’t theological poetry, but the actual, absolute reality of your beloved children. The saints who have passed this life into the next are certainly more happy and whole than us, but they are not a tad more secure and loved.
The images of our coming life in the new heaven and new earth are simply staggering. A coronation of “everlasting joy”—what’s that going to be like, Abba? And we know what it feels like to be overtaken by guilt and shame, but we can hardly imagine being “chased down,” overtaken, and inundated by “gladness and joy.”
Abba, we also love the image of “sorrow and sighing” taking flight—vanquished and vaporized at Jesus’ return. Every tear will be wiped and our sighs will be replaced with shouts of unfiltered gratitude. Until that Day, thank you for being the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort (2Cor.1:3-4)—in the messes we’re in, the messes we make, and the mess that we are. So Very Amen.
