Further Up, Further In; The Journey Is the Thing
The Sacred Journey: Why Life Isn't About Arriving
There's a peculiar human tendency that shapes so much of our existence: we live as if we're always one step away from finally getting there. We tell ourselves that peace, purpose, and wholeness are waiting just around the next corner. When we're young, we think adulthood will bring clarity. When we're single, we imagine marriage will complete us. When we're struggling, we believe the end of our current trial will finally bring rest.
But what if this entire framework is fundamentally flawed? What if the Christian life isn't about arrival at all?
The Illusion of the Final Destination
Most of us carry a secret expectation that somewhere ahead lies a terminus point—a place where all the questions resolve, where the struggle ends, where we finally feel we've made it. We chase this phantom destination through every season of life, always believing it's just one more milestone away.
The career. The relationship. The financial security. The resolution of that long-standing problem. Even retirement or some imagined spiritual breakthrough.
We live in a state of perpetual "when-then" thinking: "When I finally get X, then I'll have peace." But the goalposts keep moving. The destination remains perpetually out of reach because we're looking for something that doesn't exist in the way we imagine it.
This isn't just disappointing—it's spiritually debilitating. When we live for arrival, we miss the gift of presence. We overlook the sacred reality of right now.
Heaven Itself Is Not Static
Here's where the biblical vision becomes truly revolutionary: even heaven—the ultimate destination in Christian thought—is not portrayed as a static endpoint.
Revelation 21 gives us a glimpse of the new heaven and new earth, and what we see is not an eternal waiting room or an endless sleep. Instead, we see vibrant, purposeful existence. We see God making all things new. We see a city coming down, a marriage feast, nations bringing their glory into the holy city. Heaven is described as life at its fullest—not life finally over.
The Scriptures consistently point us toward an ever-deepening reality. Hebrews 11 speaks of the faithful who "acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth" and who were "seeking a homeland." But crucially, they never stopped seeking. They died in faith, not having received what was promised, yet seeing it from afar and greeting it.
The journey itself was the point.
Further Up and Further In
C.S. Lewis captured this truth beautifully in his Narnia chronicles. In The Last Battle, when the characters finally reach Aslan's country—Lewis's picture of heaven—they don't settle into static rest. Instead, a unicorn named Jewel cries out in wonder: "I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now."
But then comes the invitation that changes everything: "Come further up, come further in!"
Lewis adds this stunning observation: "The further up and the further in you go, the bigger everything gets. The inside is larger than the outside."
This is the Christian vision of reality—not a final stopping point, but an infinite journey into the presence of God. There is always more depth, more beauty, more reality to discover. The journey doesn't end; it deepens.
Living in the Waypoints
So how do we live this reality now, in our ordinary, often mundane existence?
The Israelites in the wilderness offer us a profound model. Their journey from Egypt to the Promised Land wasn't a straight shot. It was a forty-year series of waypoints—stopping, camping, moving, stopping again. Exodus 40 tells us that "the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle." Throughout their journeys, whenever the cloud lifted, they moved. When it settled, they stayed.
Day by day. Waypoint by waypoint.
Their lives were filled with ordinary duties, ordinary struggles, and ordinary rhythms. But right at the center of their camp stood the tabernacle, filled with God's presence—a cloud by day and fire by night.
This is the pattern for us. The journey itself is sanctified—made holy—because God is present. Every single moment, whether easy or difficult, is a sacred waypoint on the journey. Not a delay before real life begins. Not a trial to endure until we finally arrive. But holy ground, right now.
Faithfulness in the Everyday
This understanding transforms how we approach life and faith. So many of us believe the breakthrough will come when circumstances change—when we get to a better place, a bigger opportunity, a more favorable situation. We're waiting for arrival to validate our faithfulness.
But the truth is that lasting fruitfulness almost always comes from slow, steady faithfulness over many years. Not dramatic leaps. Not sudden arrivals. Just waypoint after waypoint, with God at the center.
This applies to every area of life. Strong marriages aren't built in honeymoon moments but in ten thousand ordinary days of choosing love. Deep faith isn't forged in mountain-top experiences but in the daily choice to trust when nothing dramatic is happening. Meaningful community isn't created by big events but by consistent presence and care.
The waypoints matter more than we realize. And God is present in every single one.
The Gift of Now
What would change if we stopped living for the next milestone and started recognizing the holiness of this moment?
What if today—this ordinary Tuesday or Sunday or whenever you're reading this—is not a delay before real life begins, but is itself the gift?
What if God's presence with you right now, in your current circumstances, with your current struggles and joys, is the point?
The invitation is clear: stop waiting. God is here. This day is holy. This is a waypoint on the sacred journey, and the gift of divine presence is available right now.
Come Further Up, Come Further In
The journey is the thing. The presence of God is the gift. And remarkably, wonderfully, that is enough.
Not because we've lowered our expectations or settled for less, but because we've discovered something infinitely richer than arrival: the ever-deepening reality of life with God.
So come further up. Come further in. The inside is larger than the outside, and there's always more of God to discover—not someday, but today, right where you are.
The cloud and fire are present in your camp. The question is simply whether you'll notice.
There's a peculiar human tendency that shapes so much of our existence: we live as if we're always one step away from finally getting there. We tell ourselves that peace, purpose, and wholeness are waiting just around the next corner. When we're young, we think adulthood will bring clarity. When we're single, we imagine marriage will complete us. When we're struggling, we believe the end of our current trial will finally bring rest.
But what if this entire framework is fundamentally flawed? What if the Christian life isn't about arrival at all?
The Illusion of the Final Destination
Most of us carry a secret expectation that somewhere ahead lies a terminus point—a place where all the questions resolve, where the struggle ends, where we finally feel we've made it. We chase this phantom destination through every season of life, always believing it's just one more milestone away.
The career. The relationship. The financial security. The resolution of that long-standing problem. Even retirement or some imagined spiritual breakthrough.
We live in a state of perpetual "when-then" thinking: "When I finally get X, then I'll have peace." But the goalposts keep moving. The destination remains perpetually out of reach because we're looking for something that doesn't exist in the way we imagine it.
This isn't just disappointing—it's spiritually debilitating. When we live for arrival, we miss the gift of presence. We overlook the sacred reality of right now.
Heaven Itself Is Not Static
Here's where the biblical vision becomes truly revolutionary: even heaven—the ultimate destination in Christian thought—is not portrayed as a static endpoint.
Revelation 21 gives us a glimpse of the new heaven and new earth, and what we see is not an eternal waiting room or an endless sleep. Instead, we see vibrant, purposeful existence. We see God making all things new. We see a city coming down, a marriage feast, nations bringing their glory into the holy city. Heaven is described as life at its fullest—not life finally over.
The Scriptures consistently point us toward an ever-deepening reality. Hebrews 11 speaks of the faithful who "acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth" and who were "seeking a homeland." But crucially, they never stopped seeking. They died in faith, not having received what was promised, yet seeing it from afar and greeting it.
The journey itself was the point.
Further Up and Further In
C.S. Lewis captured this truth beautifully in his Narnia chronicles. In The Last Battle, when the characters finally reach Aslan's country—Lewis's picture of heaven—they don't settle into static rest. Instead, a unicorn named Jewel cries out in wonder: "I have come home at last! This is my real country! I belong here. This is the land I have been looking for all my life, though I never knew it till now."
But then comes the invitation that changes everything: "Come further up, come further in!"
Lewis adds this stunning observation: "The further up and the further in you go, the bigger everything gets. The inside is larger than the outside."
This is the Christian vision of reality—not a final stopping point, but an infinite journey into the presence of God. There is always more depth, more beauty, more reality to discover. The journey doesn't end; it deepens.
Living in the Waypoints
So how do we live this reality now, in our ordinary, often mundane existence?
The Israelites in the wilderness offer us a profound model. Their journey from Egypt to the Promised Land wasn't a straight shot. It was a forty-year series of waypoints—stopping, camping, moving, stopping again. Exodus 40 tells us that "the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle." Throughout their journeys, whenever the cloud lifted, they moved. When it settled, they stayed.
Day by day. Waypoint by waypoint.
Their lives were filled with ordinary duties, ordinary struggles, and ordinary rhythms. But right at the center of their camp stood the tabernacle, filled with God's presence—a cloud by day and fire by night.
This is the pattern for us. The journey itself is sanctified—made holy—because God is present. Every single moment, whether easy or difficult, is a sacred waypoint on the journey. Not a delay before real life begins. Not a trial to endure until we finally arrive. But holy ground, right now.
Faithfulness in the Everyday
This understanding transforms how we approach life and faith. So many of us believe the breakthrough will come when circumstances change—when we get to a better place, a bigger opportunity, a more favorable situation. We're waiting for arrival to validate our faithfulness.
But the truth is that lasting fruitfulness almost always comes from slow, steady faithfulness over many years. Not dramatic leaps. Not sudden arrivals. Just waypoint after waypoint, with God at the center.
This applies to every area of life. Strong marriages aren't built in honeymoon moments but in ten thousand ordinary days of choosing love. Deep faith isn't forged in mountain-top experiences but in the daily choice to trust when nothing dramatic is happening. Meaningful community isn't created by big events but by consistent presence and care.
The waypoints matter more than we realize. And God is present in every single one.
The Gift of Now
What would change if we stopped living for the next milestone and started recognizing the holiness of this moment?
What if today—this ordinary Tuesday or Sunday or whenever you're reading this—is not a delay before real life begins, but is itself the gift?
What if God's presence with you right now, in your current circumstances, with your current struggles and joys, is the point?
The invitation is clear: stop waiting. God is here. This day is holy. This is a waypoint on the sacred journey, and the gift of divine presence is available right now.
Come Further Up, Come Further In
The journey is the thing. The presence of God is the gift. And remarkably, wonderfully, that is enough.
Not because we've lowered our expectations or settled for less, but because we've discovered something infinitely richer than arrival: the ever-deepening reality of life with God.
So come further up. Come further in. The inside is larger than the outside, and there's always more of God to discover—not someday, but today, right where you are.
The cloud and fire are present in your camp. The question is simply whether you'll notice.
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