Eschatology has taken on a deeply personal meaning to me in the past week. A few days ago as I passed through the living room, my eyes wandered to bookshelves that hold pictures of family members who have gone to be with Jesus. Perhaps seeing for the first Christmas season the addition of my grandmother’s picture there sparked the feeling, or perhaps the growing factor of my age was the culprit, but suddenly a sense of unexpected longing to be with the people in that group washed over me. To be honest, in that moment I did not want to persevere here anymore; I wanted the journey to be over; I wanted simply to be home and seated at Jesus’ feet now instead of waiting “to be caught up in the clouds to meet Him in the air” on the Day of His Coming (1 Thess. 4:17).