If you are anything like
me, you have probably had the occasional conversation with others about what
heaven might be like. While none of us has any direct experience with it, we
like to speculate. After all, we all have hopes of being there some day, and we
like to know where we are going.
Many artists have tried
their hand at creating images of heaven. The traditional artwork usually
includes lots of clouds, with people and angels sitting on them as though they
were fluffy featherbeds. I’ve seen some pictures where heaven looks like the
Emerald City in the land of Oz. But perhaps one of the oddest things was a
painting described by a member of the roundtable. It showed the inside of a
grand courtyard, beautiful and elegant, but with no one in it. Not a soul. So
maybe this is heaven for introverts, those of us who think nothing could be
more wonderful than to be left alone, at last. But none of us knows, really.
Contrary to what some might
believe, I have no particular expertise on this matter. I don’t know any more
about heaven than you do. Maybe the people who have the most to say about it
are those individuals who have had what are called near-death experiences. Some
of them, when they are revived, report some fascinating stories about what they
saw and heard and felt. There is the light at the end of the tunnel that many
speak of; this is, I think, the only consistent part. On the other side, it
seems like everyone experiences something different, something that is
especially meaningful and wonderful to them.
To be able to come back
from the other side and explain what was there must be an impossible thing. So
I don’t think it is possible for us to pin heaven down. Let it suffice to say
it is something wonderful.
I hope we all agree on
that. Yet, at the roundtable this week, we struggled uncomfortably with this
image of the realm of God that John’s revelation gives us. Although we don’t
know exactly what we expected, this was not what we expected.
No one that I know has an
easy time with Revelation. If you say it’s an easy book to read and understand,
I probably won’t believe you. It is so packed full of symbolism, layers upon
layers. And it is rife with violence, something that makes me quite
uncomfortable. Uncountable hours have been spent by both biblical scholars and
amateurs, trying to decode this work. Some are convinced it is a coded
timetable for the end of the world. But most scholars think it is primarily a
vision for the church of the first century. John received this revelation that
spoke to the difficult times they were living in at the end of the first
century. And, believe it or not, it was a word of hope for a troubled people.
We see the great multitude,
those who had come out of the great ordeal, as it is described in the text –
probably referring to a time of extreme persecution of the church, but we might
consider the great ordeal of life on earth, as well. These ones have been
washed in the blood of the Lamb – although everyone knows that blood will never
get anything clean, we understand this is a metaphor for the purifying power of
the sacrificial blood of Jesus. These ones, saved, cleansed, renewed, all stand
before the throne praising and glorifying God. Along with the four living
creatures (which really defy description so I won’t try), the 144,000 from the
tribes of Israel, the elders, and the angels. Heaven, we thought at the
roundtable, looks like a crowded place. Which is good, I suppose.
Yet, in all the busyness
and crowdedness and noisiness of it, we found ourselves uncomfortable with it.
I guess we were looking for something a little more intimate. Just me and my
loved ones, perhaps. Getting reacquainted with one another.
That is essentially what we
are looking for on the other side of the curtain. The ones we know and love and
miss dearly. And we especially think of them on All Saints Day.
We have experienced the
loss of members of our church family this year. And many of us have experienced
other personal losses as well. We all know too well what grief feels like.
And while we particularly
remember those who have been lost to us this year, we don’t forget about the
ones who have been gone longer. We don’t stop missing them. They still, and
always will, hold a place in our hearts.
In some cases, even in our
grief, we are glad that our loved ones have been released from their suffering.
But that doesn’t make us miss them any less. At the same time we draw comfort
from knowing that those we love are with the Lord, free from all sorrow and
pain, it’s also a hard thing for us, knowing that they are so removed from us,
in a place we can’t really begin to understand.
If you have lost someone
close to you, you might still feel a
closeness to them. Perhaps you still talk to them, and maybe have the sense
that they are answering you in some way. It is a comfort to know that, even
though they are far, they are still close.
This is the nature of this
curtain that separates life from death, this world from the other world. They
are at the same time a million miles away and as close as your breath. They are
removed from the concerns of this world and intimately concerned with this
world. This is what we believe. They have not forgotten us.
And this is important to us
– that they do not forget. We usually think about the ways we remember those
who have died, and we have certain rituals for doing so. But deep in our hearts
it matters to us that we are not forgotten by them.
In this place John’s
revelation shows us, where there is 24/7 praise and worship of God, where there
are strange creatures and a great multitude of people like us, like our loved
ones, one might wonder if there is time and space to remember us.
There are things about this
vision that are too hard to explain. But we may fall back on the essential
things we know. We know that God made us in God’s own image, and God made us
for community. We are meant to be in loving relationship with others, and this
vision clearly shows that. This is one active community, centered around our
creator and redeemer. The love flows everywhere.
And it is just on the other
side of the curtain, hardly removed from us at all. Because of our faith, we
know it is not only possible but quite natural for us to be in relationship
with those on the other side of the curtain. After all, God calls us into a
close and loving relationship with him through our Lord Jesus Christ.
Heaven is not far at all –
we get a taste of it whenever we know love.
We know that once the
curtain has been lifted, and the light at the other end revealed, there is only
love. And peace and joy.
We are all part of a
community of faith that stretches back to the beginning and will continue on
well after we have passed over. We are all part of the communion of the saints,
whether we are here or there. It is God and God’s love through Jesus Christ
that holds us all together. In drawing near to Christ we draw nearer to our
loved ones who are now in his company.
Take comfort in the vision
of your loved ones, free of sorrow and pain, free to sing praises to God our
creator and redeemer and sustainer, knowing that they are not far from us – not
now, not ever.
Give thanks to God for the gift
of salvation, enabling us to live a life of hope, walking in the steps of those
who have come before us, making a path for those who will follow, in Christ’s
name.
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