Yet to Come

The Apostle Paul, in 2 Corinthians 5:2, says he longs to be clothed with his heavenly dwelling. Do you? Do I? Can we really say with Paul, in the verses that follow, “For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed with our heavenly dwelling.”

I don’t know about you, but I confess that most of the time, I’m pretty happy to be clothed in my earthly dwelling, thank you very much. I love my life—the people God has given me to know and love, the material blessings He’s bestowed upon me, the beauty of this world He created and yes, the Lord He sent here to save me.

Yet, Paul goes on to tell us, “Now it is God who has made us for this very purpose and has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come. Therefore, we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. We live by faith, not by sight. We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord,” 2 Cor 5:5–8.

I want to want that. I want to be that spiritually mature. I want to be that confident.

Don’t get me wrong. I know that’s all true. I believe the Bible with all my heart. Yet there’s a part of me that is happy enough with the here and now that I’m in no hurry for the yet to come. Someday I want to be in heaven with Christ. Someday I want to experience the kind of love and joy the Bible assures us of.

Understandable, right? Just human nature, right? Most people would be in agreement with me about that. But does that make it right? No, instead, it puts me to shame.

The Bible doesn’t tell us a lot about heaven. But we know our Lord is there and that we will be there with Him for an eternity. We don’t have to possess a colorful brochure about our accommodations. We don’t have to worry about that. If our existence in heaven is designed by a God who created this beautiful planet for us, then it will be exquisite. The greatest, most beautiful elements of His creation here are but dim shadows of the things to come.

I don’t know what heaven will look or feel like, but I do believe it will be the most beautiful, precious experience we’ve ever had—and that we will possess it for eternity. I believe that because the Bible tells us it is, that Christ has gone there to prepare a place for us, that there will be more joy and love there than we’ve ever felt before … we will live in perfect obedience and devotion to Jesus, our Lord.

I don’t know what heaven will look or feel like, but I do believe it will be the most beautiful, precious experience we’ve ever had—and that we will possess it for eternity. I believe that because the Bible tells us it is, that Christ has gone there to prepare a place for us, that there will be more joy and love there than we’ve ever felt before, that there will be no more tears, no more pain, no more sin. Instead, we will live in perfect obedience and devotion to Jesus, our Lord.

John MacArthur wrote a wonderful book called, The Glory of Heaven. In it, he takes the snippets the Bible reveals to us about heaven and he puts them all together to make a beautiful portrait of what heaven will be like. Even so, there are gaps and missing pieces in that giant puzzle. We will not see the full picture until we get there!

If it was important for us to know more about our heavenly abode, the Bible would have told us more. Instead, we’re given a teaser. It allows us to see through a tiny knot–hole in the fence, but what we can see is but a fragment of the whole. It should whet our appetites for more.

I wrote about this in my latest book, Jonathan Edwards and the Christian Pilgrim. I challenged readers to think of this life in terms of twins in a uterus, imagining what one might say to the other if they could.

All they know is the dark warmth of the womb, and the nearness of each other. They have what they need to grow—nourishment from their mother, protection in the womb, and a perfect relationship with the one they love.

So, imagine one twin saying to the other, “Hey, know what I just heard? There’s a whole new life waiting for us out there. And it’s bigger and brighter and better than anything we’ve ever known before.”

“Well, that may well be,” the other says, “but I’m fine and dandy right here. I’m warm and safe and well–fed. I enjoy this darkness. I have everything I need right here. I wish we could just stay here forever.”

“Well, I don’t,” says his brother. “I love it here, but I can’t wait to see what I’ve been hearing about. And as a matter of fact, we won’t have any choice in the matter. When our time is up, we’re leaving here. So you’d better get used to the idea.”

In so many ways, we’re like these babies. We know that this life is a breath and then we’re gone. We know about heaven and have heard that it will be superior in every way to what we have now.

But like I’ve said in my book, “We’re that little baby. We’re comfortable where we are. Our lives may not be perfect, but the world around us is a known commodity. We’re told about the glories of heaven, yet we tend to cling to the known instead. Like that little baby, there comes a time when we have no choice but to step through the corridor—and also like that baby we will find a place superior to anything we’ve known before, a place where we feel more at home than ever, feel more love and joy than ever, and are brought face–to–face with the One who loved us before the creation of the world and breathed life into us—both physically and spiritually. What an astonishing thought,” p. 73.

What about us? Do we truly believe? If we don’t, we need to get to know our Savior more deeply. If we do, then it won’t be a struggle to exchange all we have in this life for that spectacular one yet to come.

And yes, it boils down to trading the known for the unknown. Yet we do it all our lives.

· Our first day of school after spending our whole babyhood with our mothers.

· Graduating from high school and going off to college.

· Getting married and learning to live that closely with another person.

· Graduating from college and being thrust into the “real world” of work and earning a living.

· Having babies with all the responsibilities that entails.

· Moving to a new place where we know no one.

· Changing jobs after years of comfort in one position.

· And then there’s the big one—waiting to exit this world and enter the next.

Even if that comes with some fear and trepidation, it will come. We will be forced through the door leading to that unknown. But you know what conquers fear? Love, faith, belief.

I’m reminded of the story of Joshua. He, too, was about to enter the unknown. He was to lead his people across the Jordan to the land God promised to their fathers. Do you remember what the Lord told him? “Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go,” Joshua 1:9.

We’re like those weary travelers. No matter how long we’ve traveled this road, we’re told about a better place, a place where we’ll experience absolute joy and devotion to the One who has prepared it for us. Keep your eyes fixed upon that final destination. If you belong to Him, He will bring you safely home.