My Blue Heaven
Not to go Mitch Albom on you guys but...
So I've been a part of group studying the Book of Revelation and I've been thinking a lot about heaven lately.
Heaven in John's vision is a terrible and incredible place that I can't begin to fathom and relate to, full of impressive angels with Bowls and Seals and Trumpets of Doom.
It's interesting just because in popular culture, heaven is the soft focus, fluffy white place where we just hang out and see our loved ones after we die. Either that or it is whatever we want it to be the most. Musicians in the 80's seemed to believe, that Heaven isn't too far away (Warrant) and that it was just a place on Earth (Belinda Carlyle).
Me? I'd like to believe Heaven is like my grandmother's house. Now, of course if you've ever actually been to Macomb, Illinois, you may think its the furthest thing from the ultimate eternal paradise, and I would agree with you. But I'd also like to point out that my grandma's house is awesome.
It doesn't look like much, of course. It's a dusty little old brownish yellow thing that sits on a gentle grassy slope in the middle of nowhere. It's not one of those places you seen in movies - quaint pastoral farmhouses that dwarf nearby apple orchards, or a Gone With the Wind style Southern mansion. It's made of charmless cheap metal and was never meant to last more than 10 to 20 years. The farmland is mostly unused and the air often smells of pig and horse crap.
But all of that doesn't matter. What matters it that every time I ride over the winds and curves of the gravel road leading up to the place (interestingly called China Road), I feel serene, like the problems of the world don't exist here...or more likely, the problems just don't matter to the trees, the rocks, and the cows.
I drive up and walk in and little has changed. The carpet is still soft and fuzzy yellow that feels like yarn between my toes. I see the same oak table, comfy couch and the same loving smile from Grandma and the same clever jokes from "Pee-Paw" as I still call him even though I am 28 years old.
To me it's like this house, this piece of land was here forever and will endure forever. In contrast to my dizzy, constantly spinning life, this place remains steady.
And of course, Grandma's meals are always the best - juicy turkey, hot rolls, homemade jams, jellies, pies, and butter cookies, and she always has my favorite foods, no matter that I'm the only one who eats them. I never go hungry at Grandma's she is always more than ready to offer me a drink, more food and dessert.
This place feels more like home than anywhere in the universe.
And that's why I want heaven to be like my Grandparents house. I don't care much for the crowns, and the gold and all the splendour and rich stuff they talk about in the Bible. I want something comfortable, peaceful, where I am loved and treated like a King for no other reason than I am part of the family.
Not to go Mitch Albom on you guys but...
So I've been a part of group studying the Book of Revelation and I've been thinking a lot about heaven lately.
Heaven in John's vision is a terrible and incredible place that I can't begin to fathom and relate to, full of impressive angels with Bowls and Seals and Trumpets of Doom.
It's interesting just because in popular culture, heaven is the soft focus, fluffy white place where we just hang out and see our loved ones after we die. Either that or it is whatever we want it to be the most. Musicians in the 80's seemed to believe, that Heaven isn't too far away (Warrant) and that it was just a place on Earth (Belinda Carlyle).
Me? I'd like to believe Heaven is like my grandmother's house. Now, of course if you've ever actually been to Macomb, Illinois, you may think its the furthest thing from the ultimate eternal paradise, and I would agree with you. But I'd also like to point out that my grandma's house is awesome.
It doesn't look like much, of course. It's a dusty little old brownish yellow thing that sits on a gentle grassy slope in the middle of nowhere. It's not one of those places you seen in movies - quaint pastoral farmhouses that dwarf nearby apple orchards, or a Gone With the Wind style Southern mansion. It's made of charmless cheap metal and was never meant to last more than 10 to 20 years. The farmland is mostly unused and the air often smells of pig and horse crap.
But all of that doesn't matter. What matters it that every time I ride over the winds and curves of the gravel road leading up to the place (interestingly called China Road), I feel serene, like the problems of the world don't exist here...or more likely, the problems just don't matter to the trees, the rocks, and the cows.
I drive up and walk in and little has changed. The carpet is still soft and fuzzy yellow that feels like yarn between my toes. I see the same oak table, comfy couch and the same loving smile from Grandma and the same clever jokes from "Pee-Paw" as I still call him even though I am 28 years old.
To me it's like this house, this piece of land was here forever and will endure forever. In contrast to my dizzy, constantly spinning life, this place remains steady.
And of course, Grandma's meals are always the best - juicy turkey, hot rolls, homemade jams, jellies, pies, and butter cookies, and she always has my favorite foods, no matter that I'm the only one who eats them. I never go hungry at Grandma's she is always more than ready to offer me a drink, more food and dessert.
This place feels more like home than anywhere in the universe.
And that's why I want heaven to be like my Grandparents house. I don't care much for the crowns, and the gold and all the splendour and rich stuff they talk about in the Bible. I want something comfortable, peaceful, where I am loved and treated like a King for no other reason than I am part of the family.
