Infinitely Greater than Sports Cars and Sports: Pondering Heaven

"Oh, Bob's up there right now, putting for Birdie on the 18th on that flawless last hole in the skies."

You've heard drivel like that, too, at funerals all the time: "Aunt Madge loved to swim, you know. Can't you just see here up there, soaking in that crystal sea?"

But it's not just lay people who talk this way. I remember pastors talking about heaven. One particular case I remember involved cars. This pastor loved cars and he pointed out (in all seriousness) that "his" heaven is going to be filled with fast cars. In fact, he went on to say that heaven without cars wouldn't be heaven.

Another pastor I remember gave a sermon once pointing out that he loves to work, loves to be busy. "His" heaven, he said, "would be a place where he'd have a job to do."

We all think this way to some extent: we all have notions of what heaven will be like, of what heaven will contain.

But we also have ideas about what we hope heaven will not be like. Not too long ago, I was talking with a friend about Rob Bell's new book, Love Wins. In the course of the conversation, my friend pointed out that he agreed with Bell that it's a scary thought to imagine (as some do) that heaven is an eternity of us sitting around on clouds, stroking harps. "I mean, really" my friend explained, "who'd want to spend an eternity doing that? Wouldn't it get monotonous after just a couple songs?"

I've had the same thoughts. In fact, I've always imagined heaven to be composed of big (but easy to climb) hills. Hills that overlook valleys of flowers and tall grass, valleys filled with butterflies and absolutely NO mosquitoes or biting flies. A place of constant fallish weather (oh, about 70 degrees with a mild breeze) and, of course, no rain. I imagine spending my time sitting on one of those hills, watching the world below and relaxing. Like one big, long vacation.

When I'd read about the elders in Revelation, how they'd throw their crowns around the throne of God and fall down and worship on a regular basis, I'd get scared. I'd worry that all of heaven was going to be like that: all praise and no fun.

But it hits me now what a sad, misunderstanding of God all of these ideas represent.

Once we enter eternity, we're not going to be thinking about sitting on a happy little hill or our short game or taking a dip and catching some rays. Once we're in eternity Porsches and BMW's aren't going to matter.

We'll find ourselves in the presence of God. Not some boring, benign, grandfatherly figure who spends his day strolling through the rolling hills with bluebirds perched on his outstretched fingers. No. We will be in the presence of God Almighty, Creator of Heaven and Earth.

We will be in the presence of the most Ancient of all Beings--a pure Spirit--less an old, wrinkled man and more a burning, consuming fire.

We will see a Being that our brains cannot even begin to fathom here on earth. And at the same time, we will see ourselves.

We will see ourselves as God sees us. We will know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the depth of our sins. We will know the pain we have caused our Father. We will initially mourn the hours we wasted on earth worrying about cars and golf and all that stuff. And we will know that we are only there by the Grace of that God and the Sacrifice of His Son.

And when we realize that: that we owe everything to this God who pulled us up from the depths because He loved us, we will kneel and we will worship with a depth and reverence greater than anything we've ever felt on earth.

It's ridiculous to think that when confronted with the presence and reality of God Himself we would choose to give even a single thought to a driving a fancy red car around swerving "professional driver on a closed course" hills or a golf ball over heavenly fairways. It's silly. It's sad.

God Himself is there--the point of and reason for our very existence--and we think we'll be interested in looking at or thinking about something else? Something less? And then we take it a step farther and tell ourselves that an eternity of praising God while we're in His presence is somehow "not heavenly enough?" That it's too boring? That we couldn't possibly spend an eternity doing that?

Instead, we will see the 24 elders around the throne and we will long to join in with them. Finally seeing our Creator and being able to bow and adore Him will be infinitely greater than sports cars and sports. To suggest anything less is to fail to grasp even the vaguest conception of God.