This place, these cabins in Chile along Lake Llanquihue, it has the most magical light. We would descend upon this place all tired and ministry-worn, we’d come to be renewed and refreshed. It did not disappoint. There’s a wood fire-heated swimming pool. There’s plantings of all sorts of native flowers and trees. There’s blackberries growing wild, and wind-whipped waves thrashing across the lake.
We cooked in the tidy little kitchens, everything seeming homier and cozier with all that wicked wind tearing around outside. We enjoyed comfy couches and a television and the novelty of being away. We swam in the warm waters, we ate heartily, we walked along the blue lake and watched how the light shifted.
This was our place of shalom, our place of peaceful rest, of restoration. The food seemed to taste better, the colors made to appear deeper, and the scriptures sunk into our hearts with weighted intensity and purpose. There were no beggars at our gate or phone calls ringing or meetings or obligations of any sort other than the parental kind. Beautiful gift of God.
I know Heaven is beyond what my mind can conceive of, but I think I’ve experienced some lovely foretastes. They cast my heart in eternity’s shape, they aim me aright. They enable me to say to Suffering, “You’ll not always be with me; I’ll hold your hand and lean into you for what you’ll teach me and how you’ll make me ever more like Jesus”. To say to Discontent, “Of course you are here, for I was never made to be satisfied with life’s fare”. To say to Worldly Goods, “You are not my aim, you are an empty promise, you are a food which when eaten, causes hunger”.
God scatters his beauty like invitations, not that we fall in love with the creation, but with the Creator, the Artist, the Maker of all that jaw-dropping splendor. That we read the promises He whispers in the smell of rain, the embrace of a grandmother, and the fierce red of a tulip. God inviting.