Welcome Home to Heaven

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Sometimes I wish I could think simply, like a child, free from decades of mental detail. It’s easy to surmise, assume and guess about the way things are, but often I’m wrong. Ever since Nate died, my thoughts have leaned toward heaven, trying to imagine what his life there is like. But how accurate are they?

I often wonder how God could ever extend the privilege of heaven’s utopia to ordinary humans. We’re hopelessly flawed and completely undeserving. And of course if it weren’t for Jesus’ willingness to pay a sky-high price for our entry, we wouldn’t have a hope of ever living there.

This morning my day began by reading a thrilling blog-comment left by “Beth Jones” in response to yesterday’s post about not losing heart. Here’s part of it:

“[My husband] Bruce preached a funeral message Saturday that focused on Psalm 116:15 ‘Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints.’ His last point was about the joy and excitement of our Lord to have us come home to Him with nothing in the way of perfect fellowship with Him. How delightful it is to think of His joy in our coming home… from His perspective!”

When I read this, I got goose bumps. In all my thinking about heaven, I’d always pictured Jesus as the giver and me as the getter. What could I possibly give him that could matter at all? It had never occurred to me he might rejoice to see me coming as if given a gift. Such a thought seems prideful on my part.

What I now understand, however, is that his joy in receiving me and all other Christians is rooted in the enormous investment he made to save us from eternal destruction. Our arrival into heaven is inextricably linked with that sacrifice, which is why he’ll be happy to see us when we arrive.

I can hardly take it in!

I emailed Beth, who talked to Bruce, who emailed me back. During last weekend’s funeral, he expanded on those thoughts: God created us in his image with the intention of having an eternal relationship with us. Until I’m standing in front of him, looking into his eyes and talking with him face-to-face, there will always be a barrier to our relationship, a distance between us.

As Bruce said, it’s because he loves us so much that his heart will “rejoice when we die and are finally home with him.” And that’s why our deaths are labeled “precious” in Scripture.

In recent weeks half-a-dozen elderly “saints” from my childhood church have died, people I grew up knowing and admiring. We’ve joked about a Moody Church reunion going on in glory, with Jesus in the middle of it. I can picture these friends huddled in a circle, arms around each others’ shoulders, jumping up and down as one unit of boundless exhilaration with Jesus the most enthusiastic of all… because they’ve come home to him.

Maybe as I picture that uncomplicated scene, I’m finally “thinking simply,” just like a child. Every little kid loves a party, and I’m glad my invitation to that one is safe and sound.

“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” (Psalm 116:15)

Don’t lose heart.

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Last week I received a note in the mail with handwriting I hadn’t seen for quite a while but recognized immediately. It was the strong script of Pastor George Sweeting, the man who married Nate and I in 1969. He was the head pastor at Moody Church then, and we were delighted he was available to perform our ceremony.

As we met with him privately in the days before the wedding, Pastor Sweeting told us he felt invested in the couples he married and offered to be available to us indefinitely through the years of our marriage, should we need him in any way. Although he eventually left the church to become the president of Moody Bible Institute, he kept in touch with us and occasionally reminded us of his offer.

About a month ago, 41 years after he married us, I bumped into Pastor Sweeting and his wife Hilda at a funeral, and we exchanged hugs and had a quick conversation. His letter followed that meeting and means a great deal to me.

This is a man who has spent a lifetime teaching and preaching the truth of Jesus Christ with indomitable optimism and joy. His letter was filled with encouragement not to “lose heart” in my walk through widowhood, and he cited four Scriptures urging me not to get discouraged or give up, two of them from Nate’s favorite biblical chapter, Hebrews 12. When we grow weary and don’t feel like fighting our battles anymore, whether they’re struggles with sorrow or loneliness or the difficult tasks of the day, the Bible tells us to examine the life of Jesus “so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”

Jesus didn’t have an easy life in any category, yet according to Scripture he never lost heart, gave up or walked off the job. He remained focused on his mission, difficult as it was, all the way to the excruciating end. God offers to equip us to do the same.

Where Nate lives today, not one soul is discouraged, because the temptation to lose heart has no place in heaven. Rather his life is overflowing with  joy beyond words as he lives with Christ among a crowd of other contented believers. Although Nate sometimes lost heart in his earthly life, all of that is but a dim, powerless memory for him now, if even that. And the same happy destiny awaits all of us who align with Jesus.

Although Pastor Sweeting helped Nate and I “tie the knot” that death has now untied, he’s still making good on his promise to help us by encouraging me not to lose heart.

 “We know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus from the dead will also raise us with Jesus…  Therefore we do not lose heart…” (2 Corinthians 4:14a,16a)

Cleaning Up

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I know three women who clean houses for a living. Every time I’m cleaning, I get a mental picture of these three and stand amazed at the energy they have for their work. I struggle to clean a single house well; they clean one after another.

But cleaning in manageable doses can be very satisfying. It isn’t the scrubbing, kneeling, reaching or lifting that gratifies but the end result. After putting a messy room in order, each time I walk through, I get a little kick.

Today I tackled our disheveled cottage. Before my grandbabies came, I went through and babyproofed the house, although once they arrived, we steadily took it to higher levels (literally). Today, however, I reversed the process, bringing everything back down to its former place.

Scrubbing food off the upholstery, raisins off the carpet and toddler hand prints off the windows brought five darling faces to my mind, followed by a flood of gratitude for these precious little ones. But as my sister says, “When the grandkids come, the house takes a heavy hit.” The beauty of it, though, is that with a little soap and water, Windex and Pledge, order is restored.

Today as the wash machine worked its magic on sheets and towels, I thought about the process of internal house cleaning. My childhood Sunday school teacher often referred to the “heart” as a group of rooms, each with a door that could be locked. She urged us to unlock and open each one when Jesus came in, inviting him to inspect every room.

The teacher’s grand-finale question was, “Are there any rooms in your heart you wouldn’t want Jesus to see?” Occasionally I still ponder that. Are all my heart-rooms cleaned up and open to Jesus’ inspection, even in their shadowy corners?

Such a question is, of course, ludicrous. He can look at anything he wants to and is capable of seeing past locked doors and into dark corners. But Jesus himself used the heart’s-door analogy in his own teaching, illustrating difficult principles with this simple, everyday picture. One thing he never did, though, was demand we open up for him. Instead it was always a gentle inquiry. Whether or not we let him in is left up to us.

I long to throw open all the figurative doors of my life in response to Christ’s presence, but often there are issues to deal with first. Just as with my cleaning house today, I might say, “I can’t have company until the house is ready.”

But the beauty of letting Jesus come in even before every nook and cranny is in order is that once he gets access, he’ll enthusiastically help with the rest of our cleaning. We can fling wide every door without hesitation or nervousness, and we can do it now.

Even if we’ve run out of Windex or Pledge, it won’t matter to him.

“Look! I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in, and we will share a meal together as friends.” (Revelation 3:20)