Many years ago, an old man boarded a train bound for where he would retire. He had spent his whole life working, planning and dreaming about this day. He had read books about his destination, read the testimonies of those who had visited there and longingly looked at beautiful photographs which depicted the wonders of his soon-to-be-home.

 The conductor bellowed those familiar words, “All aboard!” as the train slowly pulled away from the station. He symbolically waved goodbye to the place which had been his home his entire adult life, where he had worked, married, raised a child and buried his wife and son years ago. It was a comfortable place. A place where he knew every morning precisely what he would do that day, where he would go, what he would eat and when he would go to bed. He would undoubtedly have stayed if comfort and predictability could bring joy and happiness, but he longed for more.

 As his journey progressed, the train made periodic stops. The conductor cried out the name of this town and that. As the old man looked out the window at each stop, he had mixed emotions. His back was tired from the rough ride along uneven tracks. His mind was weary, and he was having trouble remembering the descriptions of his longed-for paradise. He felt a little sick at his stomach, a little dizzy and a whole lot confused. Should he just get off the train here? Maybe this wasn’t his idyllic destination, but perhaps he should settle for this little town or maybe the next?

 Perhaps he had waited too long. Each town seemed a little less inviting, a little darker, a little more primitive and some downright dangerous. Each bump in the train track sent shooting pains through his legs and back. Maybe he wanted off; he couldn’t tell. The pressure was overwhelming; to settle, to do something which would stop his head from spinning with thoughts of uncertainty, to take the first sure thing, even if it was far less than all he had dreamed of, all he had planned for, all he had been promised.

 The old man closed his tired and weary eyes, which helped him to block out the conductor’s calls. His furrowed brow was an indication of his concentration. He forced himself to remember the plans, the pictures, and the promises which had brought him this far on his journey. He pulled down the shade so he couldn’t see the little towns, the little temptations which called to him and urged him to give up on what he knew was ahead. He rummaged in his bag for “the book,”; the one with the pictures of beautiful streets, beautiful homes with manicured lawns and smiling faces. A melody deep down inside of him, one he had learned as a child, started to well up inside of him. The corners of his mouth began to curl upward, forming a slight smile as he quietly mouthed the lyrics.

 As he sang to himself, he felt the train begin to slow and heard the clicks on the track get further apart. He heard the hissing of steam as the brakes slowed the train to a stop. He heard a voice, different from before, begin to call out. What city was this? He was afraid to look out the window, for fear it was simply another temptation. The voice calling out the city’s name was getting louder and clearer, and then he saw him. He shone like the sun and His voice was like thunder. He shouted, it seemed, yet it didn’t hurt his ears. “Heaven,” he said, “Paradise.” He continued to call, but the old man couldn’t sit still. He stood tall and straight, no longer bent over with age. His eyes no longer dim and his ears no longer dull. “Beulah Land,” he heard Him say, “Come and see.”

 The old man followed the voice as he bounded from the train. There they were; the streets, the mansions and the beaming faces, just as “the book” had described. All he had dreamt of and more. His wife, son, friends, and family…all there waiting, clapping, and cheering his arrival. “We’re so glad you didn’t give up, that you didn’t get off the train early,” one of his friends said. “We’ve been praying for you.”

 The old man was home, finally home. It was worth the journey, pain, and saying “no” to the temptation to settle. Worth it all. As the old man, who wasn’t old anymore, began to stroll down those golden streets, flanked by friends and family, he once again began to sing that song, the one he had learned as a child, the one which had strengthened him many-a-day, enabling him to make his journey:

   When shall I reach that happy place,

   And be forever blest?

   When shall I see my Father’s face,

   And in His bosom rest?

   I am bound for the promised land,

   I am bound for the promised land.

   Oh, who will come and go with me?

   I am bound for the promised land.