heaven

Come, Lord Jesus

/ Baylee Snelling / 1 Comment

Sometimes life just really sucks.

There.

I said it.

I could probably find a prettier way to write that.

Something about difficult seasons.

Or valleys.

Or storms that eventually pass.

But sometimes I think we rush so quickly to make suffering sound beautiful that we forget Scripture never asks us to pretend this world isn’t broken.

It is.

People hurt each other.

Bodies fail.

Families break.

Children suffer.

People we love die.

Terrible things happen to people who did nothing to deserve them.

We pray prayers that seem to go unanswered.

We watch things happen that make absolutely no sense.

And sometimes I don’t want another explanation for why.

I just want Jesus to come back.

I want Him to make right everything we have spent generations breaking.

I want the world Revelation describes.

No more death.

No more mourning.

No more crying.

No more pain.

No more wondering why God allowed something.

No more trying to find meaning in something that simply hurts.

Just Jesus.

Maybe that sounds dramatic.

I don’t think it is.

I think sometimes we’ve become so determined to find beauty in this life that we’ve forgotten Christianity gives us permission to admit that this world is not as it should be.

There is beauty here.

So much of it.

There are people I love fiercely.

There are ordinary days I wish I could keep forever.

There is laughter and wonder and goodness and evidence of God everywhere I look.

But none of that changes the fact that creation itself is groaning.

And if I’m honest…

some days I am, too.

Maybe that’s why the promise of Jesus returning means more to me now than it once did.

When I was younger, heaven felt far away.

Something to think about someday.

Now?

I understand the longing a little more.

Not because I don’t love this life.

But because I’ve lived enough of it to know it cannot save us.

No amount of success can.

No relationship can.

No perfectly constructed life can.

We need Jesus.

We have always needed Jesus.

And one day, He is coming back.

One day, everything broken will finally be made right.

Until then, we love.

We serve.

We laugh.

We raise our children.

We notice the beauty.

We keep showing up.

We keep believing.

But we don’t confuse the glimpses of goodness here with the fullness of what we’ve been promised.

This isn’t home in its finished form.

So on the days when the weight of this world feels particularly heavy, maybe the most faithful prayer isn’t always a beautiful one.

Maybe sometimes it’s simply:

Come, Lord Jesus.

Please.

Come.

“He who testifies to these things says, ‘Yes, I am coming soon.’ Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.”

— Revelation 22:20 (NIV)

We Were Never Meant to Stay Here Forever

/ Baylee Snelling / 5 Comments

Lately, I’ve found myself thinking more about heaven.

Strangely enough, it’s made me think differently about death.

We spend much of our lives trying to preserve the life we’ve been given.

We exercise.

We take our medicine.

We buckle our seatbelts.

We eat a little healthier.

We do everything we can to care for these fragile bodies God has entrusted to us.

And rightly so.

Life is a gift.

But the older I get, the more heaven feels less like an idea… and more like a promise.

There comes a point when you begin to realize that every goodbye carries a different kind of weight.

You understand why people cry.

Why they linger.

Why they hold hands a little longer.

Because love has a way of making us wish time would slow down.

And yet, as followers of Christ, we grieve differently.

Not because death doesn’t hurt.

It does.

Not because we’ll stop missing the people we love.

We won’t.

But because death was never meant to have the final word.

Sometimes I wonder if we’ve become so attached to this world that we forget it was never meant to be our forever home.

Scripture describes a place where sorrow ends.

Where tears are wiped away.

Where pain no longer has a home.

Where everything broken is finally made whole.

That’s not wishful thinking.

That’s hope.

The kind of hope that allows us to grieve deeply… and still look forward with expectation.

So while my heart still aches at the thought of saying goodbye…

another part of me quietly rejoices.

Because for those who belong to Christ,

death is not the end of the story.

It’s the moment faith becomes sight.

Maybe that’s why heaven has always been called our true home.

Not because this life isn’t beautiful.

It is.

It holds sunsets and laughter.

Children’s voices.

The people we love.

The ordinary moments we’ll one day realize were extraordinary.

Perhaps those moments were never meant to satisfy us completely.

Perhaps they were always meant to awaken a longing for something even greater.

Because even at its very best…

we’re just passing through.

“But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.”

Philippians 3:20 (NIV)

If It Isn’t Good, Then It Isn’t Over

/ Baylee Snelling / 2 Comments

I’ll never forget a conversation I had with a family member at the beginning of one of the darkest seasons of my life.

She looked at me and said,

“One thing that has always helped me is remembering this: if it isn’t good, then it isn’t over.”

Those weren’t the exact words of Scripture.

But they pointed me back to the God of Scripture.

And they’ve stayed with me ever since.

At first, I held onto those words because I desperately wanted my circumstances to change.

I needed to believe that pain wasn’t the final chapter.

But over the years, they’ve come to mean something even deeper.

Sometimes life is wonderfully good.

So good that we silently wish it could stay exactly as it is.

A table full of people you love.

A child wrapped around your neck.

A sunset that makes you stop walking.

A day you wish you could live twice.

And yet, even those moments aren’t the end of the story.

Because as beautiful as this life can be…

it’s only a glimpse.

Scripture doesn’t promise us a perfect life here.

It promises something even greater.

A day when everything broken will finally be made whole.

A day when sorrow will have no place.

A day when death itself will be swallowed up forever.

So whether today feels heavy or beautiful, I find comfort in the same truth.

God isn’t finished.

And the best chapter has always been the one still to come.

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain…”
— Revelation 21:4 (NIV)