“Store up for yourselves treasures in heaven.”

I learned that line in Sunday school, but I don’t recall anyone explaining what heavenly treasure looks like. I do remember talk of the divine carpenter building a heavenly home just for me. Maybe the treasure was meant to pay for furniture for my new house, and perhaps the occasional upgrade?

A couple years ago, I took my paddle board to one of my favorite lakes during a questionable time of year. The weather app in my phone misinformed me, and what started as a crisp winter day turned into an adventure through a monsoon. I was two miles out when the drizzle started. The sky then told me two things: the drizzle was just a prelude, and my weather app was full of crap.

Heading back, I was still over a mile off shore when the drizzle turned into a deluge. Wet down to my underwear, I struggled to hang on to my rain-slicked paddle while wondering whether I would ever be dry again.

Then the rain slowed, thin shafts of sunlight painting strange colors upon the atmosphere. And the birds came out to play. They were tiny birds with tiny voices that danced and swirled about me while I slogged my way to shore. I heard joy in their little chirps, “Hello, and welcome! You are one of us now! Isn’t the rain wonderful?”
The birds spoke truth. The rain was wonderful, like treasure in heaven.