Pondering Heaven

Sometimes I ponder (nachdenke) about Heaven. And, by extension, I acknowledge the fact that there is a Hell, but I spend less time pondering on that, because by the grace of the Good Lord I am not going there.

A [Christianly] friend once told me that she read a book about how a man went to Heaven and was stounded by what he saw: everyone was in a youthful body ( 1 Cor 15:52-54), and each man did whatever he did on earth, but was a billion times better at it. And I believe it.

I naturally wonder what I would do in heaven. I used to fear that there would be a lot of churchly singing and harp playing and maybe we'd eat some goldfish, like at VBS, which as you might imagine sounds really boring. I bought that Randy Alcorn book about heaven four years ago...and maybe after four more years I'll actually get around to reading it.

But, anymore, I don't think Heaven will be all that boring. I bet it's beautiful, and I bet I could travel all round Heaven and meet all sorts of people with different stories but still with one Truth.

I love hiking and canoeing on a lake and rafting down rivers and being in the desert and seeing a cactus and going to Alaska and standing by a glacier and swimming in the ocean and not getting stung by jellyfish. And I think I love these things because they are so organic and simple, and it makes me think of God. And about the raw vision He had for our brand new earth. What a Visionary, He is.

I hope that Heaven is like that. With raw, organic creation, unblemished and unbroken. And I will climb mountains and swim in streams and jog in fields, worshiping with my God and brothers and sisters, free from strife and angst and fear of not getting that promotion or gaining 43 more pounds.

I ponder Heaven a little more intensely when I feel like I'm going to die, truth be told. This past Thursday I had a really rocky flight. The whole plane was silent as we rolled up and down the sky, and being both morbid and a pessimist, I broached the idea of death...in the way only a twenty-something-year-old in good health who knows deep down that This plane will probably not actually crash could.

I wondered What if I actually die right now. And in my naive young way, I replied, I don't actually have anything to lose. Death has lost its sting.

Meeting God is going to be beautiful. Either way it's a win, right? I live a little longer or I go hike mountains and forge rivers with Jesus. Maybe climb a tree. WHO KNOWS.

I hoped my family wouldn't be sad for too long. I hoped they would think about how happy I was in Heaven, not listening to harp music, and I hoped they realize they would be joining me in their own time. We'd meet inside the pearly gates and I'd give them the grand tour and show them all the amazing things, only I'd probably have eaten all the good food already because I am a Baptist after all.

And I imagined walking through those gates and seeing my Grandpa for the first time in years, only healthy, before the cancer, and younger and more handsome than I'd ever remembered. And he'd smile his cocky grin and say, "Hey, Britt." And I'd probably rattle on for a while and tell him how I'd sometimes thought of him, like at graduation or during exams, because I knew he'd be thrilled I became an engineer. It brings tears to my eyes to think I'll see my Grandpa again, and we will be at peace together.

As the plane continued to toss about, I thought about one member of my family. The one with a hardened heart, who fights and rejects God and faith and wants nothing to do with our soft Christianity. And it pressed heavily on my heart to know that, if I or he died today, not only would I not see him in Heaven, but he'd be somewhere terrible, in unending agony. I didn't know what to do other than pray. I hope the Lord saves this burdened soul of his. I pray the Lord shows me how to help.

I'm guess you figured out that my plane did not, in fact, crash. I loosened my grip on the seat and read and did some more pondering. While it would be naive to pretend that plane ride was a true brush with death and that I was so so faithful and godly that I barely even got scared, I have no doubt that when death does come, I will only have greater things waiting.

Death has no sting.

-bRob

Not of it.

I've been feeling marginally melancholy today. I mean - I'm pretty emotionally unstable in general, so take that for what it's worth, but today just felt bizarre.

Before I move on to the meat of the post, today I am thankful for: Le banjo. What would folksy music be without it? Sufjan Stevens' version of Come Thou Fount is the best example of a great song made even better with the banjo. [To be honest though...I can't stand the banjo by itself. It's like garlic - you wouldn't eat it alone, but it makes a dish viel besser, ja? {I LOVE analogies.}]



Moving on: how disappointing is this world?

I don't really know what put me in a funk today. My family left our little vacation spot at the beach this morning, and maybe it was just me staring out the window and thinking thoughts [hah].I can't help but notice, after a sweet little hibernation at the beach, that going back to the "grind" [ does school count as the grind?] seems so bleak.
So then I think about that to which I look forward [I'm trying to avoid putting prepositions at the end of the sentence; worth it?]...all the possibilities this next semester brings. After a year away from good old State - seeing my best people again, throwing myself into school work (nerd), applying to grad school [kind of], wearing my new blazer and mustard wool skirt [...don't judge me], driving my new car >>>, the Flying Biscuit, Bible study with Beth Moore...so many exciting new things!

But, as with this vacation, the excitement always ends. These things, in and of themselves, mean so little in light of eternity. I'm always planning. Living for the future. And that's what excitement is, right? Anticipation of something to come? The future?

But what happens when the future gets here, and it isn't what was promised? What happens when "future" become a present that leaves you exhausted, disappointed, or heartbroken? Or what if your "future" was great, but now it's over? The future I'm so busy planning: getting my phD, finding the perfect chef/banjo-player/car fixer-upper/vacation planner/scientific genius Christian husband, traveling, career ladder climbing...what happens when I'm done? I'm married, traveled, doctorate-ed, etc?

What then?

We're left wanting more. Something else to hope for, plan on, dream about [prep placement = fail]. And it's like that, a constant stream of shallow hopes and desires that will leave you thirsty and desperate.

WHY? Because we weren't made to be filled by anything in this world. There is nothing and no one that can satisfy the constant desire and hunger you have. You were made for another world.

I could cry, I want others to recognize this truth so badly. You weren't created for earth and it will never be enough!

John 15:19
If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world.

You have the choice to serve a God so much greater than this earth. Live for Him. Not for this.

The world is so disappointing sometimes.

But that is not the end. Thank the Lord this isn't home.

-brittany

"So inveterate is their appetite for heaven"
{CS Lewis}