Papa

If my dad were still alive, he’d be turning 66 today. But as my mom says, he’ll never be older than 64 in our minds. In November of 2009, six weeks after he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, he went to be with Jesus.

Heaven has been on my mind a lot since my dad’s death. My mom gave each of us kids a copy of Randy Alcorn’s book Heaven, which tries to answer questions about heaven with verses in Scripture. I also recently read Heaven is for Real by Todd Burpo and Lynn Vincent, and 90 Minutes in Heaven by Don Piper and Cecil Murphy, which are both personal narratives of near death (or some would say actual death) experiences.

Much of what’s written in these three books can’t physically be verified, which leads me to be a little skeptical of each one. Even Randy Alcorn’s use of the Bible is his interpretation of it. But as I get older and watch more people I love finish their lives on earth, heaven is something I love to think about and discuss.

Burpo and Piper describe their initial experiences in heaven as perfect in every way. They felt completely happy with no trace of fear or uncertainty. But in the Bible whenever men (like Isaiah, Ezekiel, and John) had a vision of God in heaven they were absolutely terrified. I find Revelation terrifying myself. It makes me wonder what it will really be like. Will we experience fear when we die, at least in the beginning? Or unending joy right from the start?

I wish God had given us more details. Specific, concrete, this-is-how-it-will-be details. I’m a planner and I’ve never liked surprises. But God isn’t obligated to share His secrets or explain Himself to me. Instead, He simply says to trust Him, that He has a place prepared for everyone who follows Him, and that when our joy does come, no one will ever take it from us.

I would love to see what my dad is doing right now, that is, if there is a “right now” in heaven (will there be time at all?). I’ll be thinking of him all day and I wonder if he’s aware of that somehow. Is he consciously waiting for me, my brothers and sisters, and my mom?

It’s humbling not to know what the future holds. Sometimes it frustrates me, but I think God wants it to be a comfort. My eternal future isn’t up to me and that’s a good thing. I’m small and fragile, but God is all-powerful and infinite. I might want the details of heaven, but God knows what I need more: His promises. So today I choose to dwell on those rather than what I don’t know.