I’m in a place where I’ve never been before—the beautiful backyard of an Airbnb in Roncesvalle, a quaint, homey neighborhood in Toronto. Seated in a deck chair, I’m nursing a cup of coffee while reading a book on the Celtic saints.
It’s a lovely summer Sunday morning and a cardinal is singing his little heart out in a nearby oak. I’ve heard cardinals before, but until this morning I never knew they possessed such an elaborate repertoire.
Not only that, but a big fat bumblebee is buzzing away in some red beebalm, and a squirrel squatting on the sloped roof of a garage is munching on a horse chestnut. Plus, a gorgeous dragonfly is perched, rather unusually, on the clothes line, his stained glass wings radiant in the sunlight.
All these things are common enough. I’ve seen them before, though not quite in their present configuration. Yet suddenly they appear to me brand new and extraordinarily exotic. It’s almost as if I’ve been transported to a South Sea Island—or, even more dramatically, to the Garden of Eden. For a minute or so this illusion is nearly perfect. What a strange and marvelous world is ours!
Spirit Island, Maligne Lake, Jasper National Park, Canada
And then, to complete this edenic scene, who do you suppose should come along? Yes, the Lord Himself, Jesus, walking in the garden in the cool of the day. Not that I see Him. Nor hear Him, exactly. But He speaks to me, and He seems to say, with a good deal of vividness, “You see, Michael—this is a taste of what it will be like in Heaven. I know this present life is full of trials. But I promise you, Heaven is going to be SO SO GOOD!”
Sensing the great love and supreme gentleness of Jesus, I know that He is all I want, all I could ever want. For some time I rest in His amazing words, and in the quiet beauty of my surroundings. And then, as happens, my mind wanders to other things.
The night before, on the way to an art exhibit, I’d grabbed a hamburger at a Toronto establishment called The Burger’s Priest, whose motto is “Redeeming the Burger One at a Time.” This local chain was founded by a fellow who, having set out to become a priest, took a slight detour into the business of hamburger redemption. On the wall of the shop the following scripture verse was writ large, both in English and Greek:
Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also (Matt 6:19-21).
Reading these words, I thought of the tragic story that was all over the news that week, about the town of Jasper, Alberta, in the heart of Jasper National Park, where one of the world’s great beauty spots had been devastated by wildfire and a third of the town burnt to a crisp.
Might this verse on the wall of the Burger’s Priest provide some measure of sober comfort to the victims of Jasper who had lost every worldly thing they treasured? Even to think so seems an outrageous insult. One can barely conceive of their shock and grief.
Yet this morning, sitting in a paradise in Roncesvalle, I do know that after the brief, tumultuous passage of this life, when finally we all gather once and for all on the other shore, the trials we’ve experienced in this world will turn out to be not only worthwhile, but worth their weight in gold, and it’s all going to be SO SO GOOD! In the words of Julian of Norwich, “All will be well, all things will be well, all manner of things will be well.”
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