I watched as the little girl bounced up and down, bursting with excitement. She scurried through the house, tripping over toys and books. Her eyes were twinkling as she said, “We’re going to auntie’s house!” The next minutes were a blur of activity as the three-year-old rummaged through dresses, choosing which one to wear. She sat still as I made two ponytails and squealed with excitement as she kept repeating, “We’re going to auntie’s!”

I smiled as I watched her excitement grow upon nearing “auntie’s house.” She couldn’t hold back her emotions as she let the world around her know where she was going and what exactly she was going to do when she saw her cousins. 

I sat there and pondered. She didn’t have to wait too long before her expectation became a reality, yet it seemed to me she did a great job of waiting. As she prepared herself, her thoughts were consumed with the anticipation of the evening. She moved quickly and obediently as we packed into the car and headed to the house. On the ride, she wouldn’t stop talking about her destination.  

My thoughts drifted to the Scripture reading in Titus 2. I thought about the more than 2,000 years of expectation that we as the church had in awaiting His return. I thought about the fact that we’re still waiting for the appearance of the blessed hope and the glory of our great God and Savior. Ever since Jesus ascended and left his disciples staring into heaven–through battles and wars, good times and bad, as centuries turned and history extended–the Church has been waiting. 

That evening it occurred to me that the question isn’t, “When will Jesus return?” but rather, “Am I properly awaiting his return?” 

Am I waiting in active anticipation and preparing myself? Am I repeating the Good News to everyone around me, letting them know that the best meeting they can ever have is possible? Are my thoughts consumed with heaven?

And is my excitement contagious, like that of a three-year-old, pony-tailed girl waiting to see someone she loves?