Not a measure of space—
but as near as the breath that leaves our lips,
the assured hope of a prayer unfurled in faith,
the heartbeat that stirs when love takes root.

Heaven is not some distant star,
but a flaming flicker in the human soul,
a reflection of the divine
etched into our essence, our identity.

It’s as close as the hand we extend
to lift the weary,
the tears we shed for another’s pain,
the grace that meets us in forgiveness.

Heaven draws near
in the sacred surrender of self,
in the moments when pride crumbles
and mercy reigns.

It’s found in the ache of longing,
the holy unrest that echoes within,
“This is not all there is.”
And then, it breaks through—
a foretaste in every act of love.

We are closer than we dare imagine,
for heaven is not a faraway place,
but the hallowed presence of God
alive and at work within us.

So, how close are we?
Closer than the span of time,
closer than the veil of space,
as near as the God who walks with us,
always.

Heed the call—
pay attention,
listen, and obey.
On earth, as it is in heaven.
Amen.