Friday, July 11, 2014

Heaven: The Abode of Love

I am about to undertake a risky adventure, namely preaching about heaven. That adventure will occupy my heart for the next three Sundays at Seneca Presbyterian Church. I enter the adventure fully aware that its risk lies on multiple fronts. Heaven is something we all contemplate. Exploring the mystery of what happens to us when physical life ceases is a basic human instinct. We each have our images and hopes based on what we have read or been taught or overheard in passing conversations. Even children can speculate on what or where or how heaven is, and they seem to have a delicious freedom in so doing.
The older we get the more serious the issue becomes. We begin losing people who are important to us and we want to know what has happened to them and where they might be. We long to stay connected. We cherish the assurance that we will one day be reunited. And we begin to wonder for ourselves just what our own “next journey” will be. So first of all, preaching about heaven runs the risk of disturbing personal images of something profoundly significant.
Second of all, what one believes about heaven impacts greatly what one believes about God. If heaven is the abode of the Almighty, it is up to God just who is there and who is not. Yet many of us already believe we know who is there and who is not. Allowing ourselves to speculate about that imponderable question runs the risk of challenging cherished beliefs. But I also believe it can deepen our understanding of who God is and how God does.   
Philosophers and theologians have long speculated about heaven, and have invested much ink in sharing those speculations with us common folk. They have the time and wisdom to offer point and counterpoint, and even to reject each other’s arguments. I can easily get lost in the whirlwind!
Yet as someone who does desire to ground my understanding of heaven in the biblical witness, I’ve been aided by the writings of N.T. Wright, particularly in his Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection, and the Mission of the Church (HarperCollins, 2008). As a consequence, what at first seemed an intimidating challenge has actually proven to be an enlightening journey. I hope I can share something about that journey in this series of sermons. In the process, I think our idea of heaven will be expanded rather than diminished.
But ultimately, preaching about heaven is risky because no one knows for certain the what and where and how and who. We can read accounts of near death experiences and find them credible or not. But even if we do see them as credible, they can only provide us with a faint glimpse of an immeasurable glory. We still see in a mirror dimly.  Perhaps that is all we are meant to see.
I attempt the risk of preaching about heaven because so many of the saints of Seneca Presbyterian have or will soon take that journey. Walking with them is such a blessing to me, even with the loss that it represents. I intend to begin, end, and frequently remind them of this disclaimer: Heaven is where God is, and where God is, there is heaven. Beyond that all details are speculation and faith. Your speculation and your faith are just as valid as mine.
But I believe the journey is worth taking. Mitch Albom, author of The Five People You Meet in Heaven, says it well:
There's one thing I would say about heaven. If you believe that there's a heaven, your life here on earth is different. You may believe that you're going to see your loved ones again. So the grief that you had after they're gone isn't as strong. You may believe that you'll have to answer for your actions. So the way you behave here on earth is changed. So in a certain way, just believing in the idea of heaven is heavenly in and of itself.

Yet I believe there is much more. The risky adventure begins Sunday.

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