Chickens, Taco Burritos, and Heaven.

In an expectedly effectual effort to shake my sadness yesterday, I drove across town to my favorite drive-through for a taco burrito . . . yes, a taco burrito. This is my usual M.O. on days I feel blue: I go get my taco burrito and take it to a local park where I eat it in my car. This routine always clears my head . . . both literally and figuratively. As I sat in the parking lot munching my burrito, a car with a "Not Of This World" sticker drove by. Smirking, I thought to myself, "Me neither; so why do I feel so sad?" That's when a lightbulb went on. I don't spend much time thinking about the world to which I do belong. I spent the lonely hours of the evening thinking about the treasures that are mine in Heaven. I wondered how it was, that in my 20 years of being a Christian, I haven't spent much time thinking about the heavenly home for which my soul is destined. I think it is the same reason I try not to let myself get too excited about anything; I don't want to get my hopes up and feel the disappointment when my expectations aren't met. Fortunately, Heaven cannot disappoint us. Our hope there is sure. Our expectations of Heaven can't be too high, for Heaven will exceed even our highest hopes and expectations. When it comes to Heaven, we can count our chickens before they've hatched. Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, to Him be the glory in the church and in Jesus Christ, in all places and at all times, now and forevermore. Amen. (Ephesians 3;20,21.)