Revelation 21.1-7
“IF FOR THIS LIFE ONLY…”
When the news of the massacre broke from Virginia Tech, I was with a dozen other pastors. We read the paper, listened to the radio, and watched TV reports. The whole land scrambled for comfort and hope in the midst of deep darkness. Amid those reports and analyses, one thing jumped out at our group of pastors.
Among the heroic stories of sacrifice, expressions of solidarity among students, and deep empathy expressed from all directions, we heard a total absence in mentioning anything like the hope for a life to come. Oh, I take that back, one Is-lamic college student bravely insisted all of the victims were already in
In one sense, I understand the lack of reference to heaven in a time of crisis. Have you ever cringed to hear a well-meaning person say to someone who has lost a child, “Well, God needed him up in heaven more than here down below.” That is not comforting. It breeds distrust of God and doesn’t represent the God in Christ whom I proclaim. Pie-in-the-sky-by-and-by, as some caricature the reli-gious hope of the afterlife, and how it dismisses the deep injustices here below, can feel more like cheap grace or shallow comfort than rock-ribbed hopefulness.
But in another sense what is it about knowing the destination of our days is good, and the close of our story is a joyous one, that makes the journey easier to bear? It’s true, knowing the endpoint of existence and that it will leave us in a place where God dwells can make all the difference. It give hope in the face of despair, endurance to answer life’s discouragement, forbearance to outlast hard times, patience to let God’s good gifts come to us, constancy as we are tempted to sur-render, strength to make holy sacrifices, and comfort in powers beyond our own.
I like it as Paul the Apostle writes Easter sentiments to the church in
God has in mind a new heaven and new earth where God and humankind shall not be separated. It will glisten like a new Jerusalem descending from above. God shall take his place among us mortals to be with us and by us and for us.
What shall be banished from this sublime dwelling? We heard a list, didn’t we? Death. Mourning. Crying. Pain. God will wipe every tear away from our eyes.
Friends, if I didn’t have words like these for the bereaved when it mattered most, I don’t know if I could get out of bed every morning to serve you as your pastor.
Briefly, in this moment, let’s talk about heaven, the afterlife, our eternal destiny, whatever you call it. I know you think and wonder about it. Maybe we should talk about it, even though our attempts to describe it will pale compared to the reality.
For now we see through a glass darkly, but then we shall see face to face. For now we have only seeds. How can we picture this field of flowing, golden wheat?
Here is one thing. Gordon McDonald writes about heaven as a place that is both familiar to us and far beyond anything we have ever known. I like that very much. When Christians talk about eternal life, we are not talking about immortality so much as resurrection. Immortality is more impersonal, like merging with a giant sea of souls and getting caught up in cosmic matter. That doesn’t appeal to me.
Resurrection is different. When we look at the resurrected Christ, for example, he is knowable and recognizable from our earthly walk. They can see the scars on his hands and feet. They can recognize the tone and tenor of his voice. They hear of a vision and reality consistent with everything he taught while here below.
At the same time, Jesus is no longer limited in the way you and I must face limits. Not everything in this world carries over to the next world, thanks be to God. Could you imagine a world without migraines and Alzeimer’s? A world without rheumatoid arthritis and gnarled fingers? A world where our children are not sub-ject to life-robbing addiction? A world where lies have no currency, where getting ahead doesn’t mean dragging others down, where there is always enough time and energy for the fun and playful things? A world where Kathy’s Otto frolics like a pup and the whole family gathers around? I don’t need much encouragement to envision such a world. And today Revelation gives me every encouragement. Heaven is a place in continuity with this earthly life, but glowingly transcending it.
Here is another thing. The great Jonathon Edwards once preached a sermon called “Heaven Is a World of Love.” (I’ll bet he wishes he were remembered for this sermon rather than the one called “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God!”) Anyway, Edwards makes the point that heaven will represent life as we intuitively sense it is supposed to be. Here below all we know is the broken version of that. He makes the point that heaven is a communal place, not an individualistic place. It is a communal place, but the sense of “I” is not canceled by our sense of “we.” In other words, there can be no full joy for any one of us, until there is joy for all of us. And the gladness of all means the very least of us will not be left behind. Frankly, I wouldn’t want to have anything to do with a heaven less just than that.
An ancient collect preserved in the old Book of Common Prayer lifts up how God not only gives us more than we deserve. God will give us even more than we could ever know to desire. That is the heaven I hold before you as hope today.
I have only been able to evoke the smallest taste of the world to come in our brief moments. Then again, I could preach on it for another three hours, as Edwards did, and it would still be the smallest taste. Instead we move toward this table for a taste of life as it is supposed to be that transcends any words humans can use.
Jesus instituted this meal to evoke the peace and fulfillment of the heavenly banquet. Jesus said before he served his followers this supper, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer; for I tell you, I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the
We live amid brokenness and long for wholeness; we make our way through the shadows but hold out for the full light of day; we let ourselves be tested amid the vagaries of this world because we trust in the place beyond to be with our God.
Friends, eye has not seen, nor has ear heard, nor has human imagination envisioned what God has in store for those who love him, who are called accord-ing to his purpose. Alleluia! Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia! Amen.
