I Can Only Imagine

I have been thinking lately of the things I love - the sweet, small, inconsequential things that touch the heart and ease the soul.

How awesome of God to give us memory.

20 years ago I began to save phone messages from those I love - and re-record them onto a mini-cassette (yes, I still have the player, and it works well!).  Most of the voices I saved are now parted from me and Home, but I can still hear their voices, calling with something of import that pales in comparison with the loss of their presence.  Some of them are birthday greetings, some wry comments on happenings, some just silly or "thinking of you" messages left long ago.

And it sets me to wondering if the first century Christians, who walked with Him and talked with Him on a daily basis for 3 years, would remember things : a certain sound triggering something, or a scent, or a song heard in passing - perhaps calling forth His face at a wedding, or the sound of His laughter.

When in prayer, did they hear and recognize His voice when He commissioned them?  Did they remember Him saying the laborers are few, and endeavor to increase their number?

And I wonder about Mary, who sat at His feet every chance she got.  Did she suddenly stop during her chores, transfixed by a memory of the sun falling, just so, across His features, or the look on His face when He spoke of the Father's love for His children, or the way His eyes roved lovingly over their faces the night before that Last Passover Day?

Did she remember a silly joke He told, or His favorite dish - and how proud Martha was when He would react with joy to her serving it?

Did her heart ever stop breaking when she thought of how He died?  For her.  For me. For all of us lost lambs, bleating on the edge of the cliff with fear and longing.

And when she thought about the joy and astonishment of His resurrection, did she burst into laughter at the wonder of it?  Did it pound in her heart, every day, every time someone mentioned His name?

Did her heart yearn so to see Him again?  Aching to hear His voice,
the sound of His laughter, the look in His eyes?

And when the moment finally came - when she really truly stood in His presence and saw Him for the first time in a very very long time, did she sink to His feet once more in a delirious joy to be, once again, with Him - as Time slipped away and the moment of reunion lasted forever?

Or did she fall face down in adoration of the One Who watched over her all her days and now revealed Himself to her in His full splendor and mercy and power?

I can only imagine.

And I wonder, when my time comes to meet Him face-to-face for the first time, what will I do?

I suspect I will fall face down, so full of gratitude and adoration and thanksgiving that my mouth will be sealed shut - and then I realize it won't matter.  He has known my heart for 40 years, and I doubt if either of us will need an interpreter. That Voice that has guided me down here will sound in all of its majestic fullness and glory, and all those recorded voices will be sounding sweetly in my ears and I will, finally and for all Time, be Home.

I can only imagine.