Journal Entry

I wrote this back on January 3rd, and I just happened to go back and read it again. I had both a lovely and wretched time tonight, and I wanted to go back and compare some things to what God has done. With all that being said, I wanted to share a brief part of my journal, as I see it as something I’m still learning to understand. . .

 

I like to think that there IS a bottle that has captured all
of my tears. I imagine it to be huge, and cobalt blue, kind of like those old
medicinal bottles. So dark, it is almost royal purple in places where the light
catches and is reflected. I imagine it is capped with gold, and even though I
hate gold, it seems only right for it to be so. I suppose it would have to be
huge, so much bigger than even me, two or three stories high. I wonder if it is indeed the largest bottle
in heaven, and I wonder if it is something to behold. Is it beautiful? Is it
wretched? Can anything so full of sorrow really have its place in heaven, where
 there is no more pain or suffering?
Would my dear sweet Jesus WANT me to have a reminder of all of the tears I’ve
cried? Will it be too large to be inside my room in the new earth, and if so,
will it be on display outside for all to see? Will everyone who looks upon it
say, “Indeed, she was full of many tears and sorrow. I would dare say no one
else on earth cried as many as she.” Would this bottle be an altar to the Lord,
praying He not only collected all of my tears,
but Himself shedding tears proportionate to mine? Or, could I hope, daresay,
wish, that for every tear I cried, He cried two? Prayerfully, I someday hope to
find out. Maybe this bottle will indeed have its place in heaven, for a time.
Maybe one day, Jesus will come to me in His heaven, and say, “the time for
remembrance is over, and now everyone will see what your tears have indeed
become,” and He will walk over to that gorgeous bottle, both terrifying and
glorious, and He will take hold of it with both His beautifully scarred hands,
and topple the bottle of tears. I imagine it would shatter at our feet, and to
my surprise, I will see that the bottle was not indeed filled with tears, but
diamonds, too numerous to count. Too brilliant to look upon. And my Jesus will
tell me, “Beauty from Ashes.” And I will finally understand.