13-02-2006, 01:16 PM
The UpWords Weekly Email Devotinal
MaxLucado.com/newsletter
2/8/06
__________________________
WHEN CHRIST COMES - - -
by Max Lucado
You are in your car driving home. Thoughts wander to the game you
want to see or meal you want to eat, when suddenly a sound unlike any
youÂ’ve ever heard fills the air. The sound is high above you. A
trumpet? A choir? A choir of trumpets? You donÂ’t know, but you want
to know. So you pull over, get out of your car, and look up. As you
do, you see you arenÂ’t the only curious one. The roadside has become
a parking lot. Car doors are open, and people are staring at the sky.
Shoppers are racing out of the grocery store. The Little League
baseball game across the street has come to a halt. Players and
parents are searching the clouds.
And what they see, and what you see, has never before been seen.
As if the sky were a curtain, the drapes of the atmosphere part. A
brilliant light spills onto the earth. There are no shadows. None.
From whence came the light begins to tumble a river of color—spiking
crystals of every hue ever seen and a million more never seen. Riding
on the flow is an endless fleet of angels. They pass through the
curtains one myriad at a time, until they occupy every square inch of
the sky. North. South. East. West. Thousands of silvery wings rise
and fall in unison, and over the sound of the trumpets, you can hear
the cherubim and seraphim chanting, “Holy, holy, holy.Ââ€
The final flank of angels is followed by twenty-four silver-bearded
elders and a multitude of souls who join the angels in worship.
Presently the movement stops and the trumpets are silent, leaving
only the triumphant triplet: “Holy, holy, holy.†Between each word is
a pause. With each word, a profound reverence. You hear your voice
join in the chorus. You donÂ’t know why you say the words, but you
know you must.
Suddenly, the heavens are quiet. All is quiet. The angels turn, you
turn, the entire world turns—and there he is. Jesus. Through waves of
light you see the silhouetted figure of Christ the King. He is atop a
great stallion, and the stallion is atop a billowing cloud. He opens
his mouth, and you are surrounded by his declaration: “I am the Alpha
and the Omega.Ââ€
The angels bow their heads. The elders remove their crowns. And
before you is a figure so consuming that you know, instantly you
know: Nothing else matters. Forget stock markets and school reports.
Sales meetings and football games. Nothing is newsworthy. All that
mattered, matters no more, for Christ has come. . . .
MaxLucado.com/newsletter
2/8/06
__________________________
WHEN CHRIST COMES - - -
by Max Lucado
You are in your car driving home. Thoughts wander to the game you
want to see or meal you want to eat, when suddenly a sound unlike any
youÂ’ve ever heard fills the air. The sound is high above you. A
trumpet? A choir? A choir of trumpets? You donÂ’t know, but you want
to know. So you pull over, get out of your car, and look up. As you
do, you see you arenÂ’t the only curious one. The roadside has become
a parking lot. Car doors are open, and people are staring at the sky.
Shoppers are racing out of the grocery store. The Little League
baseball game across the street has come to a halt. Players and
parents are searching the clouds.
And what they see, and what you see, has never before been seen.
As if the sky were a curtain, the drapes of the atmosphere part. A
brilliant light spills onto the earth. There are no shadows. None.
From whence came the light begins to tumble a river of color—spiking
crystals of every hue ever seen and a million more never seen. Riding
on the flow is an endless fleet of angels. They pass through the
curtains one myriad at a time, until they occupy every square inch of
the sky. North. South. East. West. Thousands of silvery wings rise
and fall in unison, and over the sound of the trumpets, you can hear
the cherubim and seraphim chanting, “Holy, holy, holy.Ââ€
The final flank of angels is followed by twenty-four silver-bearded
elders and a multitude of souls who join the angels in worship.
Presently the movement stops and the trumpets are silent, leaving
only the triumphant triplet: “Holy, holy, holy.†Between each word is
a pause. With each word, a profound reverence. You hear your voice
join in the chorus. You donÂ’t know why you say the words, but you
know you must.
Suddenly, the heavens are quiet. All is quiet. The angels turn, you
turn, the entire world turns—and there he is. Jesus. Through waves of
light you see the silhouetted figure of Christ the King. He is atop a
great stallion, and the stallion is atop a billowing cloud. He opens
his mouth, and you are surrounded by his declaration: “I am the Alpha
and the Omega.Ââ€
The angels bow their heads. The elders remove their crowns. And
before you is a figure so consuming that you know, instantly you
know: Nothing else matters. Forget stock markets and school reports.
Sales meetings and football games. Nothing is newsworthy. All that
mattered, matters no more, for Christ has come. . . .