Heaven, Pt 6, Meeting Who?

"Mommy!" The sound of little ones call out to me loud and clear. Although I'm not sure I recognize the voices, I know by the leap in my heart who they are; Sarah and Matthew, my children who entered heaven when they were just babies. I spin around on my heels and see them running towards me, jumping and skipping with their arms open wide, smiles beaming widely midst giggles and laughter.  They crash into my legs with all the energy running little children bring, and together we fall to the ground in a giant three-pronged hug. Faces held and kissed over and over, hair stroked and brought near as I inhale their sweetness. We have so much catching up to do. Volumes of stories to be told, hours and hours of lap sitting, miles of walks to be taken. Decades worth of puppies and kitties to be cuddled and played with; many missed birthday cakes to be eaten. So much of what was taken from us, now being fully restored with eternity's time to do it in. There is no rush as we slowly get up hand in hand to begin exploring this new world. They gleefully lead the way. 

I am stopped by the sound of a familiar voice calling my name. "Daddy!", I call out as I run into my father's embrace. "I've missed you so much!" It is pure joy to see him restored to full health-- a young, vibrant man once again. I melt into the freely given love of my earthly father's hug, sweetly enjoying the outward expression of heart-felt emotions which he held strongly harnessed when we were in the world. 

"Look, Mommy," Matthew chimes in, "here's our other grandpas."  I stand agape as I see generations of men who were part of my lineage; faces and names I never knew. My grandfathers who had passed away before I was born, my great-grandfathers, and great-great-grandfathers. What amazing men to meet and learn about and hear their stories of struggle and faith. 

Sarah pipes up, "Mommy, don't forget to meet our grandmas." Again, groups of women come and introduce themselves. Women who lived through the centuries now come forward to tell their stories of how they were saved, and how their love for God was passed down to the next generation. Aunts, uncles, cousins all come forward to greet me, and in that moment, I am so thankful I have all of eternity to spend getting to know these precious people. I am in awe of their words and what they did. Because of them-- because they stayed true to the faith-- I am here. 

Others have come to greet me. Some I recognize as old friends who passed into eternity years and years ago; others are persons I read about in Bible stories or history books. As I simply allow my vision to take in the panorama of the multitudes surrounding me, someone touches my arm, gently tugging to get my attention. A young woman starts to speak, then chokes back her words as if she were about to cry.  Softly, she manages a smile as she begins again to offer her thoughts. "I am here because of you."  Others around her-- men and women, young and old-- nod in agreement. "We're here because of you, too." "Really? What did I do? How am I responsible for your being here?" Each in turn shared their story of how something I said or did began a chain of events which led them to God. A smile given at a moment of complete desperation and hopelessness, sharing my own pain and how I survived it, an act of random kindness, a sincere prayer offered for a complete stranger; the list went on. I was shocked at how something which seemed so small and insignificant to me altered the eternity of another human being. 

Below is a song I remember from my youth. Little is much when God is in it. When we do anything from a heart of love and obedience to God, we will never know how far-reaching those actions go. We will never know until eternity how our lives impacted others. Be faithful, obey God, and be prepared to meet the many who are in heaven because of you.
 
Words & Music: Kit­tie L. Suf­field, 1924

In the harvest field now ripened
There’s a work for all to do;
Hark! the voice of God is calling
To the harvest calling you. 

Refrain

Little is much when God is in it!
Labor not for wealth or fame.
There’s a crown—and you can win it,
If you go in Jesus’ Name.

In the mad rush of the broad way,
In the hurry and the strife,
Tell of Jesus’ love and mercy,
Give to them the Word of Life.

Does the place you’re called to labor
Seem too small and little known?
It is great if God is in it,
And He’ll not forget His own.

Are you laid aside from service,
Body worn from toil and care?
You can still be in the battle,
In the sacred place of prayer.

When the conflict here is ended
And our race on earth is run,
He will say, if we are faithful,
“Welcome home, My child—well done!”

Thoughts on Heaven, Pt. 5, First Moments in Heaven

I walk through Heaven's gates and am overwhelmed with the presence of holiness and purity. Love encompasses me and swirls around me; it flows through me. It covers me with a warmth that is familiar, but now stronger, more permeating than what I experienced before. To simply stand is a struggle. I fall to my knees in a simple act of surrender to the powerful presence of the One who saved me, the One I now kneel before.

I cannot lift my head, nor raise my eyes to look into His. Startling awareness of the years of sin and guilt rush in like a flood, playing over and over again on the movie screen of my mind, and my shame is staggering. I see myself clad in a filthy, shredded gown. It is fouled and bloodied from the battles I have been in and bears evidence of a sin-filled life. I see the scars from wounds accumulated over the years. Interestingly, the scars are not so much on my physical body, but in my mind and heart. Some are jagged and deep; some superficial and clean. Many are well-healed, but others ooze, and I feel grotesque in His presence.
 
Gently, He takes His hands, deeply scarred by crucifixion spikes, and cups my face in them. Slowly He lifts my chin until we are eye to eye. Tears stream down my cheeks as I feel the crushing reality that it was me-- my words, my thoughts, my evil deeds-- that pushed those cruel thorns into His head. It was my sin, my punishment He took with every whip crack and every vicious punch and kick. Every burst blood vessel, every drop of blood sweat, every jagged splinter from the cross that gouged deeply into his already ripped open and raw flesh, was because of me. What I deserved, what should have been done to me, was instead done to Him. In obedience to His Father, Jesus took all the punishment due to me so I could be redeemed to God. The entirety of my sin and its effects are before me. "I'm sorry, Jesus! I am so sorry!" 

With my face still cupped in His hands, He gently wipes my tears away. "Beloved one, the moment you accepted my sacrifice and believed in Me, I became your Savior, and your sins were wiped away. I do not see them, nor do I remember them anymore. What you are seeing is a memory of what used to be. You no longer wear the rags you see yourself in. You are royalty. You are my Father's daughter, my sister. You are a Princess-- grafted into royal blood. Look now. Look at your clothes." 
 
I look down. The filthy, torn rags are gone. In their place is a robe of purest white. It is His robe, and He has put it over me. He has covered me, paid my debt, and clothed me in His robes of righteousness. I am cleansed and whole. Tears continue to flow down my cheeks, but now they are tears of joy.

He directs my attention to a row of colorful bottles of different shapes and sizes; crystalline containers sparkling with rainbow prisms that dance off faceted edges.

My eyes look up at His. "What are these, Lord? They look beautiful!" He opened the first bottle, slowly pouring its contents out. I am taken back as the black, slimy liquid drains out. How could such a gorgeous carafe contain such putrid ingredients? "These are tears you cried in bitterness and anger."  The next bottle was opened and poured out. Blue-gray liquid as salty as the sea rolled slowly out of the bottle. "These are your tears of sadness and grief." Another bottle was opened and poured out. This liquid was shimmering gold, nearly dancing as it tripped and splashed out of its container. "These are your tears of joy and happiness." Bottle after bottle of my tears He had collected were opened and poured out until there were no more.

I looked at the remaining bottles belonging to others yet to arrive in heaven. I noticed there were more bottles of certain types of tears than others. He explained that some people experienced more happy tears, while others have cried many more tears of sadness. Others lived a long, hard, worldly life before accepting Him as Savior, and they have more tear bottles of anger, malice, and sorrow. It was revealing.

With one swipe of His hand, all of my poured-out bottles were gone, along with the evidence of their contents. Puzzled, I looked up into His face again. "I have seen your tears, and I have collected them here, waiting for you. In heaven there are no more tears, no crying. The former things have passed away. Enter into My rest." 

I knew that tears would never again blur my vision or leave salty trails down my cheeks. My days of crying were over, forever.

Thoughts on Heaven, Pt 4, Gifts: Here and Now, Then and There

What do you love to do? Is your free time taken with reading great novels, or conquering 18 holes at the local golf course? Do you enjoy music, art, painting? What brings you joy here on earth, and what fuels your passion?

I love nature. I love to garden and get my hands dirty. I like the feel of the earth in my hands as I squeeze and press the gritty soil between my fingers, and I love to see tiny seedlings grow and produce beautiful flowers or delicious veggies. I love the work involved in tilling the soil, and pulling weeds, and hauling water. I may not always be excited about the labor and sweat effort, but somehow it brings great joy to my inner being. 

I like to create. I crochet. I enjoy watching a piece of yarn become a baby sweater or tiny booties, or a goofy hat a child will enjoy. It seems like magic as the metal hook weaves a single thread into a work of art. I also enjoy painting. I do not possess the exquisite talent others have, but my paint-by-numbers have brought me hours of joy. Even though I'm no Rembrandt, it makes me happy when I find and fill in all those tiny "2"s, "3"s, and "4"s.

I also enjoy writing. I may not be a Hemingway or T.S. Eliot, but I love to write. It has always been easy for me to express myself in written word. Somehow my pen pulls the inner thoughts and feelings from within me and translates them onto paper with such ease. It isn't work for me; it is an extension of me.

So. What do you like to do? What flows from you or brings you joy? What seems to radiate from the "real" you? 

God has given us gifts, talents and abilities as individual and unique as each of our fingerprints and genetic makeup. He created us to enjoy and be good at certain things-- gardening, cooking, writing, reading, singing, and yes, even golfing! He put those specific gifts within us for His glory. They bring joy to our hearts, but they also bring joy to His heart as He watches us use those gifts and abilities.    

But do these individually unique endowments end here on earth when we die? Are they only given for use in the here and now? What will we do in heaven? Will the things that we find pleasurable here be lost when we go to heaven?  

God created us to live forever. We are eternal beings; unique and fitted to live in heaven. Gifts are not given and then retracted. Heaven will be a "re-opening" of all the wonderful uniqueness we have already been given. We will be "re-opened" in the realm of perfection, where all things will be made pure and beautiful. 

Can you picture in your mind what that will be like? I can barely wait for that day! 

Thoughts of Heaven, Pt. 3 Tears

Tears. We all have them. Tears of joy, tears of pain, tears of sorrow.  I happened to find pictures of microscopic imaging of human tears. * When examined closely, we see that tears differ, and the difference depends upon the reason they fall.  

Tears: self-contained droplets of water and elements produced by our bodies under various situations.

Grief, change, laughter, pain, exposure to irritants or toxins; all able to produce tears. Some rise up and edge our red-rimmed eyelids, but never leave their place of containment. Others puddle, then gently, slowly overflow their banks to leave salty trails down our cheeks. Others seem to pour from us, as if to flush out the thing causing us pain; pain inflicted through means of irritants such as onions or allergies, the pain of physical injury, or emotional pain coming from an intense loss or spiritual wounding. 

Just as snowflakes are without repetition in their magnificent structures and form, so too our tears show incredibly minute individuality.  But will there be tears in heaven?

Heaven.  A place where we are told there will be no more tears, no more crying.  No more tears of grief, no tears of pain, and certainly no more tears from cutting up onions!  How thankful I am for that!  

But I wonder-- will there really be NO tears in heaven? When I enter my forever home, I imagine falling to my knees and simply sobbing for joy. The reality of what Jesus Christ did so I could be forgiven and accepted, will make weeping at Jesus' feet seem like the most natural thing I could do. My heart, exploding with gratitude and humility and overflowing with love for Him, will not be able to stop the fervent flow.

I cannot picture being reunited with my infant son and daughter, my father and mother, and so many others who are dear to my heart, and not weeping with pure joy in that long-awaited moment. 

I cannot imagine holding back tears when I begin to see the wonder of what heaven is. What my mind dared to imagine will be dimmed beyond compare when my eyes finally see my true home. What I thought was possible-- my wildest thoughts on heaven-- will seem so small, so unimaginative when I see it with my own eyes.  

The above images of tears show me just how complex and beyond our comprehension the creativity of our God is. These are but tiny glimpses into His mastery of creation. If these images are so unique and so amazing in a world that is corrupted by sin and death, how much more magnificent will all of creation be when it is no longer under the curse? How indescribable heaven must be-- a place that has never known the corruption of sin and death!

Revelation 21:4 states, "He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.” (NLT)

Maybe there will be tears in heaven. Tears of joy. Tears of gratitude and love. Tears of relief. The Word says He will wipe away every tear, and there will be no more crying. I imagine Jesus greeting me, holding me tightly to His chest and saying, "Welcome home! We've all been waiting for you," as He lovingly wipes the tears of joy from my face. His smile, His love, will dry all our tears.

No more crying. These things are gone forever. Thank you, Lord! 


* Photos from an article written by Henry Cloud.