There was a slope of hay field toward the back of my grandpa’s wonderful little farm in Ohio. In the evening it was shaded by a woods. In the afternoon it was warm and bright with sunlight. It was on top of the hill, well out of sight of the house. From that spot there were no houses or man-made structures in view. It was a pleasant, beautiful place.
One afternoon I was with my grandfather while he was working the field and he said; “Why don’t you go over there against the woods and see what you see in the grass.” As was so often the case, I didn’t see anything. As was usually the case he told me to look again. I did. Still I didn’t see anything.
Finally he shut down the equipment and climbed to the ground. He walked over and pointed down. I looked. It looked like weeds to me. He bent over and picked up something that was between white and pale pink. He handed it to me.
“Try this and tell me what you think.”
I put it in my mouth. “Strawberry. It’s good,” I said.
“They’re wild strawberries. They grow here every year.”
I would go there alone sometimes, lay on my stomach, and eat the little strawberries in the afternoon. It is a happy boyhood memory.
A few years later I was singing “We’re Marching to Zion,” and when we sand the second verse my mind went back to that happy simple memory of a summer afternoon with my grandfather.
The hill of Zion yields a thousand sacred sweets
Before we reach the heavenly fields
Before we reach the heavenly fields
Or walk the golden streets
Or walk the golden streets
The Christian life is not intended to be a life of stoic self-denial and self-inflicted suffering. As beautiful as eternity will be God daily loads us with benefits while we are still right here on earth. One of the joys of life is to discover the delightful things that God has poured bountifully out on the earth.
For those whose faith is in Jesus our destination will be unspeakably beautiful and God has arranged a delightful trip for us too.
