Friday, October 24, 2014

Heaven

It's quiet here, the dark sky slowing beginning to lighten with the pinks and oranges of the rising sun. Everyone is still asleep, and a soft hush has fallen over the house. In a little bit, our home with awaken with the sounds of morning: waffles popping from the toaster, dishes and silverware clanging, blender swirling. But for now, I sit back and savor the silence, this small part of the world, if just for a few seconds, at peace.

I go outside to take a picture of the sunrise, but a camera simply can't capture the beauty of it all. The soft clouds, spun like cotton candy, colored in brilliant oranges and pinks and purples, outlined by a pale cerulean sky.



I stop and allow myself to dream for just a few moments, my mind drifting. Could this be what heaven is like?

Contrary to popular opinion (and why this is an opinion, I don't know), I've read that heaven won't be people posing as angels in a vaporous ghost town, playing harps on a cloud and singing for eons. Beth Moore even says that heaven will be authentic real estate, and that some of the things that we most love about this earth, like sunrises and beautiful mountains, will be there, too--"the best of everything we've loved--only so much better," she says.



In a world where it all seems like too much-- ISIS, Ebola, an attack in Canada, a scaling of the White House fence, starvation, serial killers and gangs--sometimes the beauty violently crashes into the ugly, and I'm reminded that while I love this place, it is not my home. Not my forever home, anyway.

It used to bother me, this type of talk centered around the concept of "this is not my home". I used to look at people, give them an annoyed side-eye glance, and wonder to myself if they were looking forward to dying. Because I do not look forward to death. I used to wonder why people couldn't just appreciate the life they had instead of always wishing for heaven. But now I get it. And I'm not that different from them, because I do appreciate life here, the relationships I have, the beautiful mountains and the gorgeous sunsets. But I also appreciate what heaven represents. No more tears. No more sorrow. No more pain. And I find myself wishing that for this world, with all its upheaval and pain and the things that don't seem right, like starving, malnourished babies and rape and abuse and murder. But the world is just that--the world, filled with imperfect, broken people. Myself included.

And sometimes broken people just need a little hope.

He will wipe every tear from their eye. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.
{revelation 21:4}


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