urning 80 is a real accomplishment.
It’s a lot better than being 70. At 70, people begin to notice things about you—you forget where you laid your glasses; you keep asking, “What did you say your name was?”; you miss appointments, or even get there on the wrong day. But when you are 80, people just say, “Oh, well, she’s 80,” and make allowances. Your Asian friends no longer call you “Sister,” or “Auntie,” or “Mom,” but now it’s “Grandma.” People help you out of the car and rush to open doors and carry things for you.
John Bunyan depicts my life history in his immortal Pilgrim’s Progress. I’ve been to many of the places he describes. I’ve climbed Mount Sinai and been trounced by Moses. I’ve been to Mount Calvary many times, where my burdens rolled away.I’ve climbed many a Hill Difficulty and descended into the Valley of Humiliation more times than I like to admit. I’ve served time in Doubting Castle and been beaten up by Giant Despair. But now I’ve reached a beautiful place Edgar Page Stites called Beulah Land.
“I’ve reached the land of corn and wine,
And all its riches freely mine;
Here shines undimmed one blissful day,
For all my night has passed away.
“O Beulah Land, sweet Beulah Land,
As on thy highest mount I stand,
I look away across the sea,
Where mansions are prepared for me,
And view the shining glory shore,
My heav’n, my home forevermore!”
Beulah Land is not heaven. It’s a tranquil land where pilgrims can look across the river and see the Promised Land over on the other side. That’s where I am now.
I can almost see Jesus, whom I have followed in imagination as He taught the multitudes, healed the sick with a touch, and restored the dead to grieving families. How I marvel that here was the Creator of a million galaxies inhabiting a human body so mortals could touch Him, listen to His voice, and gaze into the depths of the heart of God. The thought of seeing Him in person, with no dark veil between, stirs me to the depths.
What a Savior He is! He consents to leave the glory of heaven to enter a hostile world. He enters through the womb of a mother, along with every other child of humanity. He embraces a life of poverty and hard work. He comes to His own people, but they do not recognize Him. “He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief” (Isa. 53:3).* And there on the cross, enshrouded in the darkness of satanic hatred, He shines like a brilliant star.
When we finally reach the other side, we will never forget that “the Majesty of heaven, He whom cherub and shining seraph delighted to adore—humbled Himself to uplift fallen man; that He bore the guilt and shame of sin, and the hiding of His Father’s face, till the woes of a lost world broke His heart and crushed out His life on Calvary’s cross.”1
Then I recall the tumultuous welcome Jesus received when He ascended to heaven and appeared before the Father, announcing that He had fulfilled His pledge to become surety for the fallen race. “The angel host prostrate themselves before Him, while the glad shout fills all the courts of heaven, ‘Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing.’ . . . Heaven seems to overflow with joy and praise.”2
As earthly choirs and orchestras unite in praise to God, it seems to me like the music of heaven is invading earth.
“The kingdoms of this world are become
the kingdoms of our Lord, and of his Christ;
and he shall reign for ever and
ever” (Rev. 11:15).
Someday I will join the angels and the “great multitude” as they sing in rapturous tones of praise to the One who made our salvation possible. Someday it will really happen. O day of glory, long anticipated for centuries and millennia, at last it has come! I will pinch myself to make sure it’s real.
I know what it’s like to pinch myself. Five years ago we had the dream of moving to Collegedale, Tennessee, a warmer climate near family and old friends from the mission field, and where there was still the stimulation of living in a college town. But we experienced delays. Months went by before we could sell our home. I kept saying to myself, “Someday we’ll get there.” Then Union College asked us to do some substitute teaching and we understood the delay. As soon as the semester was finished and we turned in our grades, the house sold.
We wanted to make one more trip south to finalize on a house. On the way I got desperately sick. We stopped at a hospital in St. Louis, and by 2:00 a.m. the next morning I was on the operating table with major abdominal surgery. We had just a few weeks to get out of our house and move into a new one, and here I was unable to do any heavy work. But the Lord was with us all the way. Family and church members came to our aid with the packing and garage sale, and the job of loading the truck. Finally, we were on our way to the “Promised Land.” As I crawled into bed that first night in our new home, I pinched myself to make sure I was really there.
So I’ll be pinching myself in that great day when we actually reach heaven, when the long struggle with sin and disease and bereavement is over. I’ll be saying, “I can’t believe I’m really here!”
What warms my heart is that for me it is not far away. My life here will not last more than 10 years at the most, unless Jesus intervenes by coming first and taking us home. How long is 10 years? I can look back to what I was doing 10 years ago and it seems like yesterday. True, I may “take a little nap,” as H.M.S. Richards used to put it, but I will soon awake to the scenes of the climax of the ages.
“One sweetly solemn thought comes
to me o’er and o’er;
Near’r to my home today am I than
e’er I’ve been before.
Nearer my Father’s house, where
many mansions be;
Nearer today, the great white throne,
nearer the crystal sea.
Nearer the bound of life where
burdens are laid down;
Nearer to leave the heavy cross,
nearer to gain the crown.
“But lying dark between, winding
down through the night,
Is the deep and unknown stream
to be crossed ere we reach the
light. . . .
[Father,] be Thee near when my feet
are slipping o’er the brink;
For it may be I’m nearer home,
nearer now than I think.”
—Phoebe Cary
Yes, there’s that river to be crossed. Who knows what it will be like? A long, lingering illness? Years of dependency on others? Bereavement from my precious husband? But I have the promise: “Even to your old age, I am He, and even to gray hairs I will carry you!” (Isa. 46:4, NKJV).†
And then comes that great day when the Lord will come in the clouds of heaven, and the graves will open, and I’ll come forth all young and new. I can imagine the tumultuous reunion as I embrace Mother and Dad and all the dear ones I’ve laid to rest in cemeteries across the country.
We will see our Redeemer face to face. And we’ll join in the anthem, “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing” (Rev. 5:12). As I see the vast multitudes surrounding the throne I will notice many going to their friends and saying, “It was you who invited me here.” Maybe someone will say that to me. And then I will think of many more whom I might have invited. I will feel deep pangs as I wish I could have persuaded many more to join me.
And strangely enough, I’ll wish I could be transported back in time to when we were still on earth. I’d surely tell everybody, “Hey, you don’t want to miss out on the greatest event in history! It’s more wonderful than you can imagine! You must be sure to be there!”
So that’s why I’m glad I’m still here in time instead of eternity. That’s what gives meaning to my life in the remaining years that are left to me.
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*Unless otherwise noted, Bible texts in this article are from the King James Version.
†Texts credited to NKJV are from the New King James Version. Copyright ” 1979, 1980, 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
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1Ellen G. White, The Great Controversy, p. 651.
2Ellen G. White, The Desire of Ages, pp. 834, 835.
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Beatrice S. Neall, a retired college Bible teacher, a former missionary to Southeast Asia, and author of several books, now lives in Ooltewah, Tennessee, U.S.A. This article was published January 28, 2010.
