The day our King returns is the day every church has talked about since the moment Jesus departed the earth. As more and more fanatics, pastors, and televangelists proclaim they know when the day is, believers and skeptics alike wait for its arrival. I have heard it described (“the day,” that is), and from what I gather, it’s a pretty big deal. A day that will be filled with immeasurable joy; the day our souls will be satiated. On that day, the face of our Savior will be shown to us, unveiled.

I believe this day will come, and, like many, my soul will rejoice in a way it has never known. However, I don’t believe we have to wait until that day to see the face of our Creator.

It seems as though we are not the only ones “waiting” for a particular day. As churchgoers flood sanctuaries and front lawn revivals, while others flock to mosques and prayer rooms, it feels like everyone in Malawi is praying for a day that something bigger than us will take hold of the reigns and fill our earth with peace, love, and prosperity.

I sat at the entrance to the children’s ward, on the rough carpet in the barely lit room (to keep it cool in the middle of the heat of day); I was struggling to see.  Swatting flies, praying for the rain to relieve the humidity, irritated at the blasting worship music and the cry of the new baby on the ward, I was annoyed. When suddenly, the world I sometimes believe revolves around me was abruptly interrupted, and I saw Jesus.

Suddenly the music didn’t seem so loud, and the crying stopped. I looked at the faces of the kids sitting around me: some with burn contractures, some who were amputees in wheelchairs, some with casts on their legs, and others with dressings on their arms. There with the children were volunteers who have never had a paycheck for the work they do, but who pour every ounce of energy into these kids. Others, who had jobs to get back to, were caught up in the activities and had lost track of time. And for a moment, none of it mattered. They played together and laughed. They laughed really hard. They piled blocks, connected Legos, and found the missing pieces to the puzzles. As I saw it, I saw what every soul should see, every being should witness, every heart should feel, before “the day,” so that even though we haven’t met Him, our hearts will know Him well because He is in us, in His creation, His living and breathing reflection.

He’s in the moments that love is overflowing from our hearts and into the hearts of others, when the pain of our day doesn’t seem to matter because He has given us these challenges to see Him, and He meets us where we are. These moments are given to us so that we aren’t looking forward to just one day, but every day in His presence.