Dream of heaven

So…heaven. You knew I couldn’t stay away from this one. Gail’s first question was…where? Here? Up there, somewhere? We have little more than hints in Scripture about this and a lot of bad paintings portraying imaginings that have very little to do even with those hints. I think we can do better than that!

One of my favorite verses of the Bible says, “God hasn’t shown us what we will be like when Christ appears, but we do know that we will be just like him…because we will see him as he really is.” Death kills these eyes, this way of perceiving and processing things. When Jesus walked with his disciples to Emmaus, they didn’t even recognize him, and only their hearts burned inside them. Their eyes had to be opened, and it’s always so hard to keep them that way. So soon we lose the vision. But death ends that poor vision and somehow frees us so that when we next see Jesus, our eyes stay open forever. His existence must call us forth from the nothingness in the same way he called the heavens and the earth from nothingness (I don’t believe like the old Greeks that we have an eternal, disembodied soul wondering around, causing trouble. No, I believe death ends it all. Then Jesus, body and soul, quickens us, body and soul, forever.)  Like a bell, or a gong, or a trumpet call, his resurrection must resonate through the nothingness and call us to life, bones connecting to bones, sinews to sinews, body to spirit. Jesus already lives this new life, but we can’t see it. When he disappeared, his body rose in the air. It didn’t just vanish. He went somewhere. And he comes back visibly from somewhere to call us home. But he’s not far away. His Spirit lives in us now. The kingdom of God is already at hand. So I think that heaven is here already, all around us, but we don’t have the eyes to see or the ears to hear that gong yet. We have not yet been purged by death of poor eyesight.

And what could it be like? John, as well as the writer to the Hebrews, pictures heaven as a city. Not a paradise garden anymore, from where one forlorn couple trudges off alone, dressed in pelts.  No, this is a gathering of people, a great city of people, an organized, crafted, man-built structure that houses everybody. This is Babel in reverse, a city coming down from heaven with its mighty gates open on all sides for all those dispersed tribes and nations and languages and tongues to come back to and enter freely. This is a place showcasing what man can do under the rule of a good king. The walls are crafted, squared off, thick and gleaming. The gates are each made from a single pearl (there is no ocean, so where did such giant oysters lie?) This is the work of many artisans, a perfect team, an organic organization, building this architectural wonder. And people are free here. They come and go. And no one discriminates against them, and no one makes war or builds walls to keep them out. Everyone is welcome in this city. It is a source now, not of pollution and corruption, but of healing and life. Clear rivers flow through its center and strong trees flourish along its central avenue, and nothing threatens them. There is no garbage, no choking air, no offense against the earth.  This is humanity living as it was meant to live on the earth, not primitively, but in full mastery of all its trades and skills and giftedness. Listen to its swelling music. You’ve never heard music like this before. Wonder at its advancing technology. You’ve never seen science like this before. Admire the scenery. You’ve never seen creation free from cursing and groaning before. Look at the people. They are working together and loving it. Finally. It’s globalization and beyond, but without selfishness.

Night in this great city is gone, and sleep, those previews of death, because we’ve come up on the other side in Jesus’ wake. Been there, done that. We are too busy for night now. Or death. We have too much to do for the King and one another now. Too much to learn, to build, to share with one another. We have a city to create. It is Utopia. Come, grab your tools!