Let Heaven be your Hope

I want to do something different this time.  For quite some time now, I've just been heavy with watching my friends, strangers and even myself deal with annoyance after annoyance, problem after problem and trial after trial.  And I know that God promises us this will happen and that even though we may not like it, it's a good thing (1 Peter 4:12-13).  A big part of this is that we have hope in the middle of it all.  And that hope rests on 1) Jesus being with us as we go through it and 2) us being with Him fully, forever in Heaven some time in the future.

And so today, I wanted to write about Heaven, where the rubber meets the road.  I read through the last chapters of Isaiah, Ezekiel and Revelation, and just let images arise in my thoughts.  I imagined being there in Heaven, hanging with Jesus, visiting others, living life.  I imagined writing a daily journal of what I was experiencing.  And so below, I created a fictional excerpt from that journal.  So I pray that this might encourage you, stir you up a bit and get you thinking on good things (Philippians 4:8).  If you are going through your own trial right now, stop for an hour, and simply try this out.  Read through the entry, and let yourself wander in wonder, thinking about what you might feel, do and see in Heaven.  May He be praised for it and may you be encouraged!

Journal excerpt:

     This morning, I arose from my relaxing meditation.  It's interesting, when I was on the old earth and I read God's Word and learned that there would be no more night in Heaven, and no more need for the sun, I was curious what that would look like exactly.  Would we not sleep?  How would all that work?  Now here--

     I have to stop.  I need to stop and just think on that fact.  I am here. I am in Heaven.  For good.  I remember the Rapture. I remember the skies going dark, the whole world went dark, electricity and everything.  I remember the instant it happened, and my heart leaped within me.  For I knew what it meant.  I dropped to my knees, looked up and to the east and began calling out to Christ.  Take me Home, Jesus!  Forgive my sins! I want to serve You forever!  And then, as lightening travels from the east to the west, so He came.  His glory, His beauty, His power lit up the dark sky.  And I saw as He moved, a wave of souls, rising up from the ground, hundreds of millions of His followers who had committed themselves to Him over the millennia of earth, rise up to join Him in His wake.  And then I was in an instant caught up in that wave after them and all of us were surrounding Him, celebrating in sheer awe.  Man, did He look incredible!!!  Nothing like I had imagined; simply magnetic.  I could not take my eyes off of Him.  I knew there was a multitude of people around me, all doing the same thing.  I still have a hard time describing my emotions at that moment.  Relief, excitement and more than anything, thankfulness and appreciation and stupefaction at the fact that He had died for me so that I could be there with Him.  This was God Himself standing over the world, exuding strength and honor.  And He was smiling at me!  He was actually excited that I had committed to Him and was now going Home with Him to the place He had been hand-crafting for me to reside.  I was stunned.  So much more happened that day…

     I remember the 1000-year reign of Christ on the old earth after that.  So much fun.  I really matured in that time:  building my house, learning a craft, visiting Jesus in Jerusalem, beginning to comprehend His Plan for us.  Long enjoying the works of my hands, while trembling in contrite spirit at the words of my King, I finally, truly began to feel that I was moving into exactly what I had been created to do.

     I remember the first day in Heaven, on the new earth, seeing the Holy City, New Jerusalem, off in the distance.  A huge mountain with a city wrapped around it on all sides.  Those walls gleaming, the gates twinkling.  It literally took enough of my breath away that I stumbled to the ground.  I began to sob and laugh, cry and smile.  I was so overwhelmed at that point.  I experienced two crystal clear emotions at that moment:  I did not deserve this place at all, and yet I was Home.  The first rendered me humble and placed me on my knees; the second lifted my heart in a shout of joy.  At that moment, I clearly saw the meshing of justice and mercy, sovereignty and free will, obedience and freedom.  I laughed at my idiotic attempts to explain theology back on old earth.  I had no chance of fully understanding then.  That life was meant to be a taste of this one, nothing more. 

     I got up and began walking to the city.  I glanced behind me and saw a quaint little town, like some European hamlet from the 1600s. I knew I would be going back to visit that place (which turned out to be my main home) soon.  I glanced around at the golden fields of wheat, with white fields of cotton beyond them, and red fields of Indian corn beyond them.  I saw people working, dancing, and resting.  Groups of men leaning on their rakes, smiling and talking with one another.  Women making beautiful, colorful linen dresses, cackling in delight at some joke told.  Children wide-eyed and cheering as a couple of their own playfully wrestled with a young panther in the dirt.  It was paradise. It was real.  The Bible had been true.  We were now home with God, forever.

     I remember the first time Jesus and I sipped on spiced Arabic coffee, relaxing at an outdoor café situated at a good-sized square in the Holy City.  It was late in the day, and while crowds still mingled, there was an essence of quiet contentment in the air.  No one seemed to be in a big hurry.  He and I just sat there and people watched.  I listened as He told stories of this person or that one.  There was Ishmael, an Arab from the 400s BC.  Jesus explained how Ishmael was  a God-fearing man, who defied his town elders, practitioners of dark magic, and was martyred for it.  There was Lilli, a Venetian woman from the 1700s who gave up her inheritance so that she could serve the homeless children of the slums in and around Venice.  Her love for those kids almost matched her love for Christ.  Jesus smiled from ear to ear as He told her story.  For hours, we simply sat there, watching and talking.  Sitting next to Him is indescribable.  It was as if I was almost nervous being in the presence of the King of Kings, and yet at the same time felt so safe and so comfortable.  It was a giddy contentment, if that makes sense. 

     And I'm reminded of the time He and I, along with Elijah, Barnabas, Athanasius (the 4th century theologian), St. Nicholas, Pope John Paul II, my Pop and Pop's great-great-great-great grandfather all journeyed to a hidden valley that Jesus knew about for a two-month exploration.  That was full of adventure!  But that story can wait for another time…

     Anyway, back to today's journal entry and what I was starting to say.  I arose from my mediation this morning and headed out of my home. A layer of refreshing, tingling mist lay through-out the town.  I wandered down the soft dirt roads to the center of town. There, smiling and waving at me, was…