Many years ago, an old
man boarded a train which was bound for the place he would retire. He had spent
his whole life working, planning and dreaming about this day. He had read books
about his destination, read the testimonies of those who had visited there and
longingly looked at beautiful photographs which depicted the wonders of his
soon-to-be-home.
The
conductor bellowed those familiar words, “All aboard!” as the train slowly
pulled away from the station. He symbolically waved goodbye to the place which
had been his home his entire adult life; the place he had worked, married, raised
a child and buried both his wife and son years ago. It was a comfortable place.
A place where he knew every morning exactly what he would do that day, where he
would go, what he would eat and when he would go to bed. If comfort and predictability
could bring joy and happiness, he would surely have stayed, but he longed for
something more.
As his journey
progressed, the train made periodic stops. The conductor cried out the name of
this town and that. As the old man looked out the window at each stop, he had
mixed emotions. His back was tired from the rough ride along uneven tracks. His
mind was weary, and he was having trouble remembering the descriptions of his longed-for
paradise. He felt a little sick at his stomach, a little dizzy and a whole lot
confused. Should he just get off the train here? Maybe this wasn’t his idyllic destination,
but perhaps he should just settle for this little town, or maybe the next?
But maybe
he had waited too long. Each town seemed a little less inviting; a little
darker, a little more primitive and some downright dangerous. Each bump in the train
track sent shooting pains through his legs and back. Maybe he wanted off, he
couldn’t tell. The pressure was overwhelming; to settle, to do something which
would stop his head from spinning with thoughts of uncertainty, to take the
first sure thing, even if it was far less than all he had dreamed of, all he
had planned for, all he had been promised.
The old
man closed his tired and weary eyes which helped him to block out the
conductor’s calls. His furrowed brow was an indication of his concentration. He
forced himself to remember the plans, the pictures, the promises which had
brought him this far on his journey. He pulled down the shade so he couldn’t
see the little towns, the little temptations which called to him and urged him
to give up on what he knew was ahead. He rummaged in his bag for “the book”;
the one with the pictures of beautiful streets, beautiful homes with manicured
lawns and smiling faces. A melody deep down inside of him, one he had learned
as a child, started to well up inside of him. The corners of his mouth began to
curl upward, forming a slight smile, as he quietly mouthed the lyrics.
As he
was singing to himself, he felt the train begin to slow and heard the clicks on
the track get further and further apart. He heard the hissing of steam as the
brakes slowed the train to a stop. He heard a voice, different from before,
begin to call out. What city was this? He was afraid to look out the window,
for fear it was simply another temptation. The voice calling out the name of
the city was getting louder and clearer, and then he saw him. He shone like the
sun and His voice was like thunder. He shouted it seemed, yet it didn’t hurt
his ears. “Heaven” he said, “Paradise.” He continued to call, but the old man
couldn’t sit still. He stood tall and straight, no longer bent over with age.
His eyes no longer dim and his ears no longer dull. “Beulah Land” he heard Him
say, “Come and see.”
The old
man followed the voice as he bounded from the train. There they were; the
streets, the mansions and the beaming faces, just as “the book” had described. All
he had dreamt of and more. His wife and son, his friends and family…all there
waiting and clapping and cheering his arrival. “We’re so glad you didn’t give
up, that you didn’t off the train early,” one of his friends said. “We’ve been
praying for you.”
The old
man was home, finally home. It was worth the journey, worth the pain, worth saying
“no” to the temptation to settle. Worth it all. As the old man, who wasn’t old anymore,
began to stroll down those golden streets, flanked by friends and family, he once
again began to sing that song, the one he had learned as a child, the one which
had strengthened him many-a-day, enabling him to make his journey:
When
shall I reach that happy place,
And
be forever blest?
When
shall I see my Father’s face,
And
in His bosom rest?
I
am bound for the promised land,
I
am bound for the promised land.
Oh,
who will come and go with me?
I
am bound for the promised land.
