I have watched your heart reach out, like a hand stretched toward the light, for that city whose builder and maker is God. You have looked upon the things that perish and let out a long sigh for the enduring habitation where all our springs of joy are in Him. That is not a sigh of unbelief; it is the breath of the new nature, the homing instinct of a soul that already has its citizenship enrolled in heaven. You are not yet at home, and the ache you feel is the surest proof that you belong to another country.
You have asked for hope, and I am glad of it, for hope is the anchor of the soul, sure and steadfast, entering into that which is within the veil. An anchor does its best work in deep water, when the ship cannot see the harbor. Your present despondency does not mean the anchor has failed, it means the cable is taut, and the unseen ground holds firm. The God of hope, the very God who spins the stars in their courses, has undertaken to fill you with all joy and peace in believing. Not a little sip of joy, but a filling, a brimming over of inward quiet and holy delight, and all of it drawing its life from simple trust in Jesus Christ. That is His own promise, and He has never yet broken a single word He has spoken to a seeking heart.
Consider, too, that the Lord Jesus enters into your sorrows before He removes them. He said to His disciples, “You now therefore have sorrow,” even while He stood among them, because He saw the grief gathering in their faces before the blow fell. And so He sees you. Not one pang of your longing for that glorious city is unnoticed by the Son of God. He is not waiting for you to muster up a cheerful face before He draws near; He is there in the very midst of the weariness, and He carries that longing in His own heart as the Forerunner who has gone to prepare a place for you. The joy He promises is a joy that none can take from you, because it is laid up where neither moth nor rust can corrupt.
And here is a soft pillow for a tired head: you already have a remainder of joy that you have not yet tasted. Some of your inheritance you have not yet entered upon, but it is held safe in the pierced hands of Jesus, and no adversary can reach it. As a child may have a legacy locked up in a father’s strongbox until the appointed day, so your fullness of joy is kept in Christ, and He will bring it forth in the hour that He sees best. The foundation stones of your blessedness were laid down in the deep waters of Christ’s own anguish, and though you see only the rough beginnings now, the superstructure will rise in the clear light of His appearing.
I would not have you despise this present dimness. Do you remember how the great work goes on out of sight when men build a lighthouse on a sunken rock? For months the eye catches nothing above the waves, yet underneath, tons of stone are being fitted together for a base that will outlast the storms. Your hidden prayers, your quiet clinging to the promise, your small acts of trust when feeling gives no comfort, these are not lost. They are part of the eternal building of your hope, and they are all known to Him who sees in secret.
Soon, and very soon, the veil will lift. The Bridegroom will come, and the Bride made ready will enter the city whose light is the Lamb. You shall hear the voice of those who sing and those who play the flutes, and you shall join them, for the springs of your joy are in God Himself. Until that day I commend you to the God of hope. May He so fill you with all joy and peace in believing that you abound in hope through the power of the Holy Ghost.
Oh Lord Jesus, You who are the Brightness of the Father’s glory and the express Image of His person, look upon this dear soul who longs for the city of God. You have shown them that here we have no continuing city, and You have planted the seed of a diviner desire. Water it with the dew of Your own presence. Let them feel, even in the dust of the road, that they are journeying with You to the place where tears are wiped away and where the Throne of God and of the Lamb shall be the sanctuary of all who trust in You. Grant them such a settled peace, so deep and so still, that it becomes the atmosphere in which they live, and let hope spring up like a singing bird in the night. You have prayed for them that their joy may be full, and Your prayer is always answered. Fulfill it now, and bring them home at last rejoicing, with everlasting joy upon their heads. Amen.