Look!

Shortly before emigrating from my homeland, Cuba, one night the world came to an end. Each night brought a new adventure at our home. During the frequent blackouts enforced by Fidel Castro’s government, our entire family would gather on the dark front porch to voice our frustrations and engage in a variety of topics. The enveloping darkness transformed our small porch into a haven for the adults, while we children played hide-and-seek, delighting in the opacity that rendered us both invisible and liberated.

These moments possessed a unique magic. The hum of the adults’ conversations, the laughter and whispers of our childhood games—all harmonized with the gentle rustling of the nighttime breeze. Occasionally I would pause to gaze at the stars, which seemed to shine more brightly without the interference of town lights. Despite the world feeling stagnant and the challenges being numerous, I found a profound connection with my family and the simplicity of our life in those times. Although my understanding of God was limited, there were moments I could feel the inexplicable sweetness of His presence.

That particular night, however, the stillness of the darkness was shattered by what sounded like a distant explosion. A mushroom-shaped cloud appeared on the horizon, casting a mesmerizing display of lights in intertwining hues. The sky became a canvas of reds, oranges, yellows, and purples, swirling in a chaotic yet captivating dance of light and color.

My heart raced, and awe mixed with dread as I watched the surreal phenomenon. All I could think of at that moment was that the Russians had surely launched a nuclear bomb against the imperialist USA, as we were often taught about in school. But although terror consumed me, the world was not ending yet. What we had just witnessed was the historic launch of Apollo 11, which carried the first human crew on a mission to the moon. Launched from the Kennedy Space Center in neighboring Florida, the rocket left a striking trail of smoke and color across the sky, visible even from our home in Cuba.

The world, at that instant, seemed to be at a cosmic crossroads, and to me the celestial display could only confirm my childhood fears. I felt lost and unsure where to hide. It was amid this confusion that the voice of a man passing by broke the spell of the night with a simple “good evening.”

How could I have known then that a few months later this was the man who would lead my entire family to the Seventh-day Adventist faith?

The Adventist

I don’t know why, in that gesture of courtesy, I found a brief relief amid my emotional storm. Everyone in the family turned to the man whom everyone in town mockingly called “the Adventist” behind his back and returned his greeting.

“It looks beautiful, doesn’t it?” said the man. Though he was not old, his abundant hair was already graying. He carried himself with a dignified demeanor and exhibited a self-control that stood in sharp contrast to the usual triviality characteristic of our people.

The solemnity in the man’s voice was almost palpable as he began to explain that one day the sky would be illuminated with a more exalted radiance than that caused by the Apollo 11 spacecraft. Christ, the King of kings and Lord of lords, was coming back soon.

Christ was to return on a white horse, adorned with many crowns, and wearing a robe dipped in blood. This robe symbolized His redemptive sacrifice, while His title, “King of kings and Lord of lords,” underscored His supreme authority over all earthly kingdoms and powers. This momentous event was to be visible to everyone, marking a universal occurrence recognized by all humanity. It was to evoke fear in some, and many were going to lament having distanced themselves from God and failed to seek repentance.

A strange chill ran through my bones as I stood contemplating the mottled patches of sky that had not yet fully faded away and wondering if I would ever be strong enough to endure such a momentous future event. How could I have known then that a few months later this was the man who would lead my entire family to the Seventh-day Adventist faith?

My grandmother, visibly irritated, got up from the chair and, with a gesture of discomfort, said: “A strong black Cuban coffee will fix all that, sir. Would you like a sip?” 

Before the man could respond, my grandmother took the thermos—often used for the lukewarm milk, sweetened with sugar and a pinch of salt, she often made me drink to help with my anemia—and began to serve the coffee that the man had already declined.

“Good night,” said the man politely, and I watched him disappear into the deep darkness at the end of the street. I don’t know why, but I felt an inexplicable urge to cry.

“If one stopped harboring hopes, one would save a lot of disappointments,” said my grandmother, and with those words another night concluded.

The Day Approaching

There is a day approaching—a day when every eye will see, and every knee will bow before, the returning King of kings. Each passing moment the vision of this day gets clearer. Our expectations are not just a distant dream, but a profound hope, cherished by countless generations of Christians. For those of us who have held on to this promise, this hope is anything but false. It is a deeply rooted belief, supported by the teachings of our faith and the Scriptures. This is not a hope born out of fantasy, but one that is firmly grounded in the divine promises of God, made to us. 

The anticipation of this moment—the day when Christ will return—is a powerful source of encouragement and strength. It’s a reminder that no matter how challenging or uncertain our lives may seem now, there is a greater reality that awaits us. Every struggle, every sorrow, and every hardship is seen through the lens of this ultimate hope. We live in the expectation of a future when justice will be restored, when peace will reign, and when we will be united with our Savior forevermore.

“ ‘Look, he is coming with the clouds,’ and ‘every eye will see him, even those who pierced him’; and all peoples on earth ‘will mourn because of him.’ So shall it be! Amen” (Rev. 1:7, NIV).