The idea of heaven is a great one...joy and love for all of eternity. No more pain, crying, sorrow, bills....
However, heaven has always freaked me out. As a kid, I pictured heaven as an endless, glaringly white room full of shelves of toys. Toys are great, right? How would that picture freak someone out? Well, because I figured I would get bored with the toys eventually and wonder what I would do for the rest of eternity. Hell seemed much worse with all its fire and pitchforks, but this white room wasn't where I wanted to spend an eternity.
It was common knowledge at my private school that people wouldn't know each other in the same way once they got to heaven, which meant my mom would be some strange lady wandering a golden street while my sister sang in a choir in some white, nameless void on the other side of heaven. Maybe there would even be angel guards keeping people from seeing their families and friends in case they got any funny ideas about kindling past relationships.
And where did all that WHITE come from? There wasn't a sun, of course. Why would heaven need a sun? For that matter, why would heaven even need toys?
So there went the only fun part of heaven. No, there wouldn't be toys because God wanted endless praise and that means singing, singing, and more singing. Now, I enjoy singing, but could I really "sing of Your love forever"? I always lie when I sing that song. If the lyric was, "I could sing of Your love for exactly two hours and then I really need a break," then I would be all in.
Twenty-some years later, I'm older and wiser, but heaven still freaks me out. I don't care anymore if there are toys in heaven, but now my desires center on my husband. I am not okay with us not being married in heaven. Not only does it terrify me to be without Ryan if he dies before me, but for death to be the END of our love? How could that be possible in heaven? If I have my same heart and mind in heaven, then all I can picture is wandering streets for eternity, looking for him. And if I find him, is he going to be working on some diamond-encrusted mansion, saying, "Oh, sorry, but this is my new life. These mansions won't encrust with diamonds by themselves. Guess we had a good life together, but that doesn't matter now"?
Obviously, I don't actually think this is true of heaven, but the images of heaven are the opposite of glorious to me.
Many years ago, I went to a funeral where the pastor spoke of heaven in a way completely different from the visions of gold, singing, and mansions I pictured growing up. The woman who died was a gardener and an amazing cook. The pastor said he believed she was watering flowers and cooking as he spoke. He saw heaven as a place of ACTION, a place where people held onto the gifts and passions they had in this life.
Very rarely do I have epiphanies, and this was no exception, but that idea of heaven being a perfected earth slowly seeped into me. That's my true desire for heaven, to live in a perfect reality with God and other people. I don't want to float around with angels or sing worship songs all day. I want to act in plays, write novels, travel, practice piano, learn the violin, do crosswords, eat blueberries, and finally learn Spanish.
I had a dream about three years ago. Normally, my dreams involve something awkward or inconvenient. At least a few times a year I scream in my sleep. But this was a rarely happy dream.
There was this beach with bright sand and glittering water. A city of castles was on an island a few miles from the beach and it was the most gorgeous sight. This was clearly paradise. There was someone next to me and I asked them if there was a place with snow and mountains.
They said, "Yes, but it takes forever to get there. It's thousands and thousands of miles away, and it literally takes forever."
Crying, I lamented that there was only this one location in paradise I could reach. It was beautiful, but I mourned that I never would see snow again and worried I would get sick of this place despite its glittering water and castle island.
The person was surprised at my crying and said, "Why are you crying? That's why we HAVE an eternity."
That is literally the happiest dream I've ever had, seeing heaven as a place where I can journey and grow, a place that isn't stagnant.
If some angel wants to belt out hymns in my ear, I guess that's fine (especially if I can get earplugs), but when I think of heaven as a place of action with God and a place where I still have my identity, it actually makes me want to go there.
