Coloring Blue Sheep With Jesus

Our Almighty Compassionate God

I did not have a life review when I went to Heaven.

But I know trusted friends who did.

How scary, we think. Is this when I will be judged? When all the things I’ve ever done wrong in my entire life flash before my eyes? Will everyone in Heaven also see it? Will my embarrassing sins be flashed in the skies above everyone’s head? How about that sin I repented for and tried so hard to avoid but then did that one last time?

While I stood in Heaven, my Lord made me aware of His second personality trait—second only to His incredible love. And it was practically indescribable (a bit like Heaven!) because while I stood in His presence, soaking in all He gave me, I became aware of His deep and lasting compassion for all of us.

Those life reviews? Many say they saw their bad choices, and they also saw the impact of those choices on other people—the view there is more than 360 degrees, you see.

However, I see another commonality—so many of my friends relate that He was with them in every scene. Saving them from worse. Stepping in wherever He could and still allowing humans their free choice.

Yes, love means allowing us our choices.

I told this to a group of abuse survivors last week and saw tears well in their eyes. I shared with someone at church who then had to clear his manly throat three times. I wanted to tell my pastor, and I haven’t had a chance. But now I’m telling this to you.

I can no longer view things on earth the same way that I did.

What do I see now?

I see a victim, shot down on 82nd street, lying in the street, gasping for air. And I see my Jesus, kneeling next to him, tears running down His cheeks. Reaching out to cradle his head, to lift him a bit so he can breathe better, until help arrives.

I see a mother as her husband pulls in the driveway, mad at yet another unproductive day when he couldn’t earn much (he has bombarded her with texts all day), even though he tried. I see her tense as the car door slams, the furtive look at the front window, the sudden move to hustle the kids into the playroom—as she closes the door behind them and waits with held breath. I see my Lord stand near. In fact, by placing His hand strategically on the front door, He prevents it from slamming when the guy enters. And then He hurries to her side. He will be there to shield her as much as possible, and to guard the kids behind her from their daddy’s words. And to ensure it doesn’t get physical, today.

I see a church gathering and a pastor who feels he is the only one who can be in charge—because no one else will do it right. I hear him misconstrue scripture to keep women in their place and give men permission to do whatever it takes to keep ‘order’ in their home. And next to him in the choir section, Jesus shakes his head sadly before He walks down the stage stairs, finds the woman in the most pain, and whispers reassurance in her ear. He later directs her to receive a hug in the foyer, and make a new understanding friend.

I see Him sitting next to a little girl hiding in a closet, His knees drawn to His chest, shoulder to shoulder as she trembles. “Why don’t we color?” He whispers. And her face briefly lights up the semi-dark as He hands her a crayon and a notepad. “I will help. Hey, can you draw a sheep? Oh, wait, I gave you a blue crayon. Let me scrounge up a different one…”

“I love blue sheep!” She uncurls her arms and legs because there is something that feels more like the beginnings of an adventure fluttering in her stomach now. “How about stars?” She whispers loudly a few moments later. “Shouldn’t sheep have stars above their heads to guide them when it’s dark?”

His turn to smile. “Indeed, they do.”

Oh, the pain of sin! And oh, the pain of suffering from other people’s sins!

Yet, in the depths of our deepest trials, we are never alone. His compassion is so vast that He does not merely watch our suffering—He carries it, feeling our grief even more deeply than we do.

I see Him in the ambulance next to me, as He firmly squeezed my hand. And then surrounding me as my physical body continued to pass out, deteriorating from something my body deemed poison. I feel Him throw Himself on me, pushing on my chest even as we enjoyed time in Heaven, then later helping to pull my gurney into the hospital hallway, calming the tremors as my body shook the surface. I hear Him whispering words from Psalm 23 and “I will never leave you” over and over in my ear. And then, cracking a grin at me when I can finally smile back, “didn’t we have such an adventure?”

Wink!

Surely we did. Much better than coloring in the closet.

I got better then. And hubby finally came. But Jesus declined to leave, and for the next week, I remained so hemmed in by His presence that I felt like a child bundled up against a winter storm—completely covered, physically warm and utterly safe.

Heaven changes your perspective. Choosing to focus on Heaven will change your perspective.

My view changes when I choose to trust Him, knowing that He is always my greatest cheerleader, and that just as He promised, He never left. He’s never left you either.

For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. Colossians 3:3

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Deuteronomy 31:6 (and multiple additional verses)