My five-year-old son, Wyatt, asked me once, “Where’s heaven?” My response was, “With God.” He wasn’t satisfied. “What’s it like?” he asked. I thought for a minute. “Come here,” I said. Then I wrapped my arms around him and held help tightly to my chest and kissed him on the forehead. “You know how sometimes when you’re scared or cold or sick or just want one of us with you, you say to mommy or daddy, ‘Hold me.’
Then we hold you close like I am now and you feel safe and warm and loved. That feels good, doesn’t it?” He nodded. “That’s what I think heaven is like. I think heaven is like being held like that, but by God, and forever.” That’s really about the best I could come up with, and I’m very hesitant to paint too detailed a picture. In one sense a parallel can be drawn between a nativity scene and the popular images we have of heaven. The common nativity scene is a combination of the story as it is told in Matthew, as it is told in Luke, the prophetic imagery of the Old Testament prophet Isaiah, traditions of the church, supposed additions by St. Francis of Assisi, and a few more anachronistic additions. The nativity scene has its core in the scriptures, but if we stuck strictly to Matthew and Luke the stable wouldn’t be made of wood (it was probably carved out of rock), there wouldn’t necessarily be three magi (the Bible never says how many), there wouldn’t be any animals (the Bible just says they were in a stable, not that the animals were allowed to stay once Mary and Joseph showed up), and so on and so forth. But we have added those things over the years because (1) we don’t like not knowing exactly what something is like and (2) it fills out the picture of the nativity beautifully in ways that make sense to us. In my opinion, this is what we have done with heaven. We’ve combined a bunch of different verses from the Bible, sprinkled in a lot of tradition, legend, hopes, and conjecture, and then we hold onto that image because (1) we don’t like not knowing exactly what something is like and (2) it fills out the picture of heaven beautifully in ways that make sense to us. Let’s explore the topic a little bit.
In the Apostles’ Creed we say, “I believe in… the resurrection of the dead.” Also, all the talk of a heavenly body that is in 1 Corinthians 15 really seems to be about after the final, collective, resurrection. So, if the “eschatology” of the New Testament is that people die then will someday be resurrected from the dead and judged by God in Jesus Christ then what happens between when we die and when we are resurrected? Because, you see, in the Apostles' Creed we also say, "I believe in... the life everlasting." That “in between” time and place is, I believe, what we typically refer to as heaven. But why is it that we believe that there is anything in between death and the final resurrection of the dead?
In Luke’s gospel, while Jesus is dying on the cross, one of the criminals who is dying on the cross beside him begs him, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Jesus doesn’t say, “Sure thing, you’ll die this morning and then someday you’ll be resurrected and then I will remember you.” Nope. Jesus says to the dying man, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” The Greek word translated as “paradise” carries with it the image of the Garden of Eden. Also, in Paul’s letter to the church in Philippi, as he was sitting in a Roman jail cell he wrote, “I am hard pressed between the two: my desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better; but to remain in the flesh is more necessary for you.” Paul’s life has grown so difficult that part of him wishes that he would die, depart to be with Christ. He doesn’t say that he wishes he could die, then someday be resurrected. That is a part of his hope, to be sure, but in this particular moment he is talking about being with Christ upon death.
Another passage that seems to be built upon the assumption that heaven or “the bosom of Abraham” (whatever that means) is immediate upon death and contemporary with current life of earth is Jesus’ parable of Lazarus. I would, however, be very cautious about mining this particular parable for information about life after death as it would lead us to believe that (1) heaven is “the bosom of Abraham,” (2) people in heaven and people in hell can communicate with one another (that doesn’t sound like heaven to me,) and (3) that salvation is based completely off of how one has treated the poor (which also seems to be the case in Matthew 25). I don’t think we want to mine all of that out of this one parable. It might, however, be a clue that Jesus had a sense of heaven (and hell) being a place not just for the eschatological future but for individuals upon death.
One idea that I’ve heard that attempts to make sense of the future hope of the collective resurrection of the dead and our present hope that when we die we’re not just “asleep” or even nonexistent until that future event but in heaven, deals with the difference between our concept of time (kronos) and God’s concept of time (kairos). I will try to explain without muddling it up. This theory says that the
eschatological future (Second Coming, etc.) is only future to me because I am in this world that runs on chronological time (past-present-future). When I die, however, I will no longer be in this world. Instead, I will be in God’s realm in which what was future in the world is actually present. In a sense, this idea says that when I die I will step into a realm in which the future is the present. It will be like God hit the fast forward button for me. I think I’m confusing myself here. Anyway, that’s just an idea. Presbyterians, as Reformed Christians whose theological family tree leads back to John Calvin, have a little different take on the subject of heaven than some of our brothers and sisters in Christ. In fact, we tend to talk and think about it less than many. That isn’t because we don’t believe in it, though. The overall number one emphasis in Reformed theology is the “sovereignty” of God, meaning God is in charge. That statement is where Reformed theology begins. So when we ask theological questions we always start with God. So if someone was to ask me, “Do you put your hope in heaven?” I would say, “No, I put my hope in God.” So really the question of what happens to us when we die is, like all theological questions for Presbyterians, a question about who we believe God to be. So typically we don’t talk a whole lot about heaven, but we do talk a whole lot about God. Think back to my opening “explanation” of heaven to Wyatt. Is it based on anything specific that the Bible says about heaven? No, not really. But it is based upon what the Bible says about the God of heaven.
There are some bestselling books out there like 90 Minutes in Heaven and Heaven is for Real. Did the respective authors really visit heaven? I don’t know; it’s possible, I guess. I don’t know that they didn’t any more than I don’t know that they did. But regardless of what actually happened in those situations, ultimately I don’t base my life on New York Times bestsellers. I base my life upon the Word of God. With that in mind, Romans 14:8-9 really capture the Presbyterian thinking about heaven. Paul writes, “If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. For to this end Christ died and lived again, so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living.” What this means is that if I trust God in Jesus Christ in my life, then I also trust God in Jesus Christ with my death as well. Here’s how Allen Verhy in an article he wrote for Presbyterians Today puts it: “Christians do not deny the awful reality of death, but we do insist that death is not the last word. The last word belongs to God. The last word is not death but life, not suffering but shalom.” I don’t know all the details about what’s on the other side of death but I do know the God who rules over all of it. So I’m not worried. Will I get to see my Granny again? I hope so. Will every meal be Tex-Mex except in heaven I won’t have to have Tums for dessert? That would be awesome too. Will I finally be able to totally give myself over to the God that I have stumbled along in loving and following in this life? Yes, that is true hope of heaven.
In closing I leave you with the first two questions and answers of the Heidelberg Catechism, which is a part of our Presbyterian Book of Confessions.
Q. 1. What is your only comfort, in life and in death?
A. That I belong—body and soul, in life and in death—not to myself but to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ, who at the cost of his own blood has fully paid for all my sins and has completely freed me from the dominion of the devil; that he protects me so well that without the will of my Father in heaven not a hair can fall from my head; indeed, that everything must fit his purpose for my salvation. Therefore, by his Holy Spirit, he also assures me of eternal life, and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.
Q. 2. How many things must you know that you may live and die in the blessedness of this comfort?
A. Three. First, the greatness of my sin and wretchedness. Second, how I am freed from all my sins and their wretched consequences. Third, what gratitude I owe to God for such redemption.
