A Snapshot of Heaven

This entry will not have a lesson or call to action. I won’t be examining any scripture, nor will I be offering a story with a moral focus.

 This entry is purely to share my joy.

 A few weeks ago, I had the honor to celebrate the birthday of one of my best friends. She turned 100! Yes - I said one of my best friends! I get to hang out with her once a week when I go to her house, and we have dinner together (besides seeing her at church, of course). We watch game shows during which we holler at contestants who are too slow to answer or don’t know the obvious answer on People Puzzler, we encourage the contestant in the final round of Switch knowing they probably won’t win (they usually don’t on the episodes we watch together), and our favorite - Wheel of Fortune - where she cackles at me yelling at contestants to stop buying vowels.

 We also catch up on what’s going on in our lives, and we catch each other up on the lives of mutual acquaintances and friends. I can’t disclose most of what we talk about because I am sworn to secrecy, but I can tell you a running joke between us is that God was strategic when He made sure we weren’t the same age because if we had been friends when she was younger, we would have needed a lot of bail money!

 But we also talk about serious things. Most recently with the deaths of my biological dad and my stepdad (within seven months of each other) and her reaching the 100 mark, we talk about death and heaven. I know she’s close, and so does she. Besides her being 100, she’s started to slow down these last two years (I’m not kidding - this is a recent thing. Before that, she would always wear me out! She still lives alone and takes care of herself - she’s amazing!).

 She often says she wonders why God still has her here because she is ready to go HOME. She is looking forward to death. I struggle to write that because I am not looking forward to it - either for her or for me. Death terrifies me because it is, as Hamlet says, the “Undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns,” (Hamlet 3.1.80-81). It is the great unknown for me. I wonder what that state of consciousness is like. I wonder what memories we’ll have, and what it will be like to be without a body, etc. I asked her why she isn’t afraid to die, and her answer was, “Because I know I’m going to heaven, and I know it will be more wonderful than anything I can imagine.” This is the faith of a child, and what Jesus meant when he said the kingdom of heaven belongs to those who have this faith (Matthew 19:14). I wish I had that faith too.

 I asked her what I was supposed to do when she was gone, and her answer was simple: “Be happy for me.”

 A couple of months ago, my husband (the pastor of our church) had the great idea to have one service with three different churches. You see, we rent our sanctuary out to a Spanish congregation and a Ghanan congregation because they don’t have a place of their own. We have known the Spanish congregation for decades, and they are family. We have only known the Ghanan congregation for a year or two, and they are already family, too. My husband thought that with all three of us meeting in the same space, we should be able to meet all together.

 So, he scheduled a certain day and a certain time, and I got to see a small peek at what Pentecost may have been like, and what heaven is probably like.

My husband opened up the service by saying “Welcome” in English, Spanish, and Ghanan, and then he outlined the service schedule. The Ghanan church has a tradition of opening their service with a procession of their choir singing an opening hymn, so they started us off. Their choir sang a few more hymns with some Ghanan words but mostly in English, and their pastor delivered a mini-sermon in English.

 Then the Spanish congregation took over, and their praise band sang a couple of hymns and some contemporary music songs oscillating back and forth between English and Spanish. Then their pastor delivered a mini sermon in Spanish, and one of their members translated it into English.

 Then my husband took over, and he started again with “Welcome” in English, Spanish, and Ghanan. We sang a couple of hymns in English, and then he delivered a mini-sermon in English.

 The Ghanan church finished the service with their traditional recessional, and then we all had a huge feast and time of fellowship.

 It was the most amazing, energizing service I have ever been a part of, and the whole time all I kept thinking was, “This is what heaven will be like!” All of us together, praising God from our spirits, speaking the language of The Spirit, and feeling nothing but the pure, untainted by our sin love of GOD.

 When I think about my friend’s answer to, “Just be happy for me,” I think of that service with all of us together - The Family of God.

 I think I can have that same faith that knows that with God is where I am meant to be, and it will be more wonderful than I can imagine.

AMEN