Two
seriously ill men occupied the same hospital room. One man was allowed to sit
upright in his bed for one hour each afternoon to help prevent fluid from settling
in his lungs. The other man, with spinal injuries, had to spend all of his time
flat on his back. The men talked for hours on end about their families, homes, employment,
involvement in military service and where they had traveled throughout the
world. Every afternoon when the one man could sit up, he would peer out the
window next to his bed and would pass the time by describing to his roommate
all the things he could see outside the hospital. The man in the other bed
began to live for those one-hour periods when his world would be broadened and
enlightened by all the activity and color of the world outside. The window overlooked
a park with a beautiful, serene little lake. Ducks and swans were seen on the
water and children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm
amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen
in the distance. As the man by the window described all this in exquisite
detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine
the picturesque scenes. One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a
parade passing by. Although the other man could not hear the bands, he could
see in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive
words. Days, weeks, and months passed. One morning the day nurse arrived to
find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had passed quietly in his
sleep. His lifeless body was removed from the room and the other man immediately
became lonely. As soon as it seemed appropriate, he asked if he could be moved
next to the window. The nurse was happy to move him and after making sure he
was comfortable she left him alone. Slowly, painfully; he propped himself up on
one elbow to take a personal interlude of the much-missed world outside the window.
As he strained to slowly turn and gaze out the window for the first time, he
found that it only faced the blank wall of another building. The man asked the
nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate to describe such wonderful
things to him each afternoon. The nurse responded that the man had lost his
sight and couldn’t have even see the wall he was staring at each day. She said,
“Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.”
[Revelation 12:2] “And
I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God,
prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.” In so many ways,
the very end of the Bible is a mirror-image of its beginning. Because of sin,
man in Genesis is separated from God’s presence and is kept from reaching out
to eat of the Tree of Life; in Revelation, that access is restored and intimate
fellowship with God along with it. The account of the church, then, is really about
man walking with God. It took a perfect God to take on flesh and live a sinless
life as a man to become our Savior and sacrifice to do so. The vehicle God
chose for His restored people is the church, or His body, or His bride. In
Revelation, chapter 19, we have the Bridegroom, the Word of God, figured as a
rider on a white horse “trampling out his vintage, where the grapes of wrath
are stored” and winning those who are blessed to be invited to the wedding
supper of the Lamb. As important as it is to study the church as it exists in
this temporary state, it is essential to fix our eyes on where it will be in
its eternal existence. This gives us strength to persevere now and hope for our
future. As the blind man described his memories of the world to the suffering
one who needed daily encouragement, John was blessed to peer into heaven and
describe it to encourage mankind of the beauty that awaits us outside the
window of death.
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