Think of this as comfort food for my soul. Being human, and living on the great blue orb spinning through the space, I think in terms of what I know. We all have our personal view of Heaven. My view might help you paint yours.
1 Corinthians 2:9 “But, as it is written, “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him”
When I think of Heaven, I think of a vast expanse of glory. It is covered in a brilliant white light that has no origin. The sky is azure blue with puffy white clouds; there are streets with light posts that actually work. There are tree-lined boulevards and gentle streams. There are beautiful mountains and rolling pastures.
I don’t want a grand mansion. I want a small shack on the wrong side of the tracks. I’m a guy who will be elated just to be there. I want to walk down the streets and see the true greats of God’s kingdom. I want to meet Agur and Jabez. I want to remember people who did the small things in my life that kept me going in the right direction, people whose names I have long forgotten or may have never known. These people are pivotal to my being here. It is not only the strong, great Christians that I will always remember for the years they spent mentoring and modeling for me, but it is also the person who saw me in a single dark moment and cared enough to lift me.
I want to go down to the Pearly Gates every sunset to welcome the crowds of people coming home. I want to help them feel welcomed and loved and appreciated. I want them to feel as I do.
What I want, more than anything, is to be sitting in the park by the lake, or maybe a small patio restaurant off the beaten track. As I eat my pizza or hot dog, I remember the great swell in my heart when God called my name. As I am lost in a memory too great to describe, a person breaks the silence to say, “Hey, are you, Tomme Stevenson?’. He’d say, we met in Kenya, or Kyrgyzstan, or prison, or Roswell Day of Hope, or on the street outside a MARTA station. Maybe we met in a parking lot in Asheville or a McDonald’s in Atlanta or the mountains along the Chattooga River. I had said something or did something that changed their heart. I want to know that I made a difference for His kingdom.
I want to know that there are people here, embracing the God of the universe, reveling in all His glory, that I helped get a ticket. I want to know that there are people who did not get left behind because of me.
I want my sidewalk café and my morning coffee. I want Gracie, the greatest Springer Spaniel to ever live, by my side. Most of all, I want God to call me His friend.
Revelation 21:1-4, “Then I saw “a new heaven and a new earth,” for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”
I love your vision of Heaven and I have a feeling it will come to fruition! Especially the part about meeting people you met throughout your life here and told them the Good News of the Gospel. Oh, and absolutely, Gracie. Thanks for writing, Tomme! Be well!