A Glimpse of The New Earth

I just got back last night from a three-day trip with Hannah’s dance troupe. They went to do some volunteer work for a ministry to the poor people of the Appalachian Mountains. We stayed at a beautiful family campground called Cherokee Cove. The following is something that caught my attention on Monday night, June 23.


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It was a long day of travel, and when we finally arrived, we had to hurriedly set up our campsite. Then we were off to a wonderful dinner in the conference center / mess hall of the Cherokee Cove campground. There’s nothing like carrying your camping gear down a 35-degree incline, setting it all up and then hiking a half-mile back up that incline to work up an appetite. Fortunately for us, the campground manager was also a former chef and restaurant owner.

Since it didn’t work out for the girls to perform their ballet piece for the camp attendees, their leader decided to allow one of the dance instructors to perform solo for the crowd after dinner. Joy performed a ballet dance to the song “I Will Lift My Eyes.” Words cannot express the beauty, simplicity and worship that characterized that performance. The delicate movement of her hands toward the wood-paneled ceiling, the sweet smile on her face, the extension of her legs so gracefully before and behind her as she was gliding across the makeshift stage – it was also beautiful and appropriate for the words of the song.

As I looked around the room from my position in the back, I could see the smiles on people’s faces and the tears forming little streams across their cheeks. Little girls on the front row were entranced as they watched one of their heroes perform so confidently for her audience. Mothers wiped tears from the corners of their eyes as they thought about the future of their daughters and their dreams and aspirations for them as future women. Fathers welled up with pride to think that their daughter could be a dancer like that someday. And you could tell that almost everyone there was transported to a place where they realized that lifting our eyes to our Maker will lead us to a place where our help will draw near to us in our times of trouble. And for that and for Him, we worshipped together. The gentle swishing of Joy’s body across the stage could easily have been mistaken for the gentle wind of God’s Holy Spirit as it descended on that place. His presence was almost palpable.

It was about halfway through the first chorus of the song that I suddenly had a glimpse of what the New Earth will be like. I could see our little crowd – and maybe many more – gathered in a beautiful place to see one of God’s children dancing in worship to a song written for His praise and glory. I envisioned all of us worshipping together as we thought of the One who redeemed us and was worthy of our praise. I imagined that the Savior Himself might show up for such a performance and grace us with His presence to receive the praise and honor He is due. I felt the warm anticipation well up in my chest as I thought about that wonderful day when we will worship in that wonderful place – together with Him and with each other.

All of this was going through my mind and heart when I was suddenly distracted by someone making their way through the doorway to my right. As a reflex, I glanced over to see who it was.

It was a mother of one of the dancers making her way toward an open spot just in front of me, pushing her son Jordan in a wheelchair. He was lying back at a 45-degree angle, his small, soft hands drawn up in his lap, his slender legs crossed, his head and its fine brown hair leaning back against the headrest, his eyes fixed on a nonexistent point far away in the distance.

I turned back to watch Joy continue to dance.

When I looked back at these two new audience members near me, Jordan's mother pushed him up close to the open spot where she could look over him to see ballet of worship. Leaning against the edge of the staircase landing, her left hand found its way over to her son, and lovingly, she traced her fingertips through the fine strands of the hair on his head. With the strong sound of the music swells and with his mother’s hand on his head, his hand suddenly lifted at an awkward angle and drew quick lines through the air above his body, a stark contrast to the smooth, controlled and graceful movements in the ballet dancer that I could see just beyond him. Then his little hand came to rest in his lap again.

I turned back to watch Joy continue to glide across the open space with such ease and in a spirit of uplifting worship.

“Only there won’t be any of this.”

That was the thought that shot through my mind as I stood there in the back of a small mountaintop conference center.

Just moments before I had a wonderful picture painted for me of some of things that will be a part of the New Earth. And while I was standing there enjoying that picture and anticipating that day, God added a few more brushstrokes to that painting.

He reminded me of what will not be in Heaven or on the New Earth.

There will not be any more physical illnesses.

There will not be any diseases that rob people of the ability to function as God intended.

There will not be people who cannot walk.

There will not be any deformed hands or feet.

There will not be any wheelchairs.

Heaven and the New Earth will be filled with healthy bodies, sound minds and worshipful hearts as we join to work for and offer praises to the One who redeemed us.

We will enjoy eternal blessings and shed these broken bodies for new ones. And it will all be possible because His body was broken for us.

When we all get there to worship together, it will be a glorious scene to behold and to enjoy. In that new and wonderful place, I can’t imagine what it will be like to see Joy dance in worship.

Better yet, I can’t wait to see Jordan dance.