Open door, lone chair, autumn mountain—proof that heaven isn’t scarce; it’s waiting to be noticed.
Opening
Some days heaven feels scarce—like peace is on allocation. We queue in long lines of noise and hurry, wondering if there will be any light left for us.
The scene
An empty chair by an open door says welcome without a word. The storm has rinsed the world clean; the mountain answers with color. See the chair—waiting in line. “Nobody gets too much heaven no more.” The Bee Gees were in my headphones when I made this image. It can feel harder to find, like we’re all waiting our turn.
Reflection
Their song dreams big: life that sees beyond forever, love that never dies, a warmth that turns the whole world into a summer day—and the fear that such love is only a dream that fades. I know that ache. Yet the doorway answers with abundance. Grace is already spilling through the threshold; the queue forms only in my mind. The chair is enough. The view is enough. God is not withholding; I’m just learning to notice.
Scripture echo
“Be still, and know that I am God.” —Psalm 46:10
Practice
Open one door in your day—fewer tabs, slower breath, a real chair by a real window. Sit long enough for the clouds to move.
Final reflection
The chorus says love is mountain-high and hard to climb. Looking out, I see the mountain—and I remember: in Christ, the climb is companionship more than conquest. Scarcity is loud; heaven is quiet. When I stop hustling for a place in line, I find I’ve been standing at an open door the whole time.
Pocket I’m keeping
A chair by an open door is enough. Summer arrives in the heart that makes room.
What I hear now
A gentle nudge: You don’t earn heaven; you notice it. Love doesn’t fade when you sit in the light.
Credit
Inspired by “Too Much Heaven” (Bee Gees). Brief lyric quoted; the rest paraphrased with love.
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