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.