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Snow In Heaven?

February 10, 2012

Outside snow is falling. We’re supposed to get several inches of the stuff. It’s starting to cover the leaves that I didn’t rake up last month. Tree branches are becoming outlined, standing in stark negative relief against the shadows of the distant tree line. And I have to admit; it’s awfully beautiful. Our God sure knows how to paint a gorgeous picture with the elements.
Which got me thinking. Is there snow in heaven? Will we be treated to Christmas-card scenery as we stroll along the golden streets with Jesus? Then I snapped out of it. Of course not. Snow’s beauty is beguiling, masking its true nature. Snow is nasty, miserable stuff.  Oh sure, it looks so pretty when you look out the window. It’s swirling flakes entice you, saying “Come out and play. Catch some flakes on your tounge. Recreate a Norman Rockwell painting. All is well. Throw a snowball and have some fun.” So a-dancin’ outside you go. You frolick and march around making paths, feeling like a grand adventurer leaving your mark on pristine, virgin territory. You even catch a snowflake or two on your outstretched, wet tongue. The years slip away and you feel like a kid again. Indeed you DO feel like you’re in a Norman Rockwell painting. You heave a snowball at your kids and laugh. You see them making snow angels and giggling, so you flop down beside them. One sweep of your arms up over your head, and that’s when it gits ya. The dam of snow displaced by your arms pours down your neck and exacts instant discomfort. You immediately jump up from your frigid bed, which only serves to make the lump of snow lodged at the nape of your neck to translate down the spine and spread across your lower back. Staggering away half-paralyzed, the kids suddenly see you only as a target, and materialize round after round of snowballs to hurl in your direction. By sheer number of projectiles hurled, one makes contact with your right ear. Now you’re retreating, trying to move without bending any joints too far, because you are painfully aware that thin cotton underwear has no defense against ice water.Your only thought is to reach the warmth of where you came from, and strip off all clothing to rid yourself of any speck of snow.
So I turn from the window and think, “No thanks. There is no way I am goin’ out there.”
The more I think about it, the more I believe that snow is God’s synonym for sin. It entices you with beauty and promises of joy. Then it makes you pay.
It hinders any progress. If you want to get anywhere, you gotta get it out of the way.
It hides its true nature. It looks pure and good, but underneath it is cold, ugly, and lifeless. By the warmth of spring it is revealed for what it is; heaps of dirty, icy obstacles.
Yep, snow is like sin. Definitely not going to be any in heaven.

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