Heaven

 Extreme views of grieving

“Just forget about it and move on.” How often do I hear that? Sometimes in movies, sometimes in real life. Sometimes from those who see no purpose in this universe, and therefore no point in even thinking about the past. Sometimes from Christians who believe that we should feel no pain, and therefore teach that continuing to hurt from a recent loss shows a lack of faith. I don’t mean those who have a healthy sense of moving on when the time is right, but the ones who have no better strategy for coping with the distress than to deny that it exists and press forward as if it never happened.

Or the opposite. Not very common in my experience, but I’m sure some people struggle with it. I must keep his memory alive. He meant so much to me. I can’t let anyone forget who he was and what he did. Setting up a shrine. Refusing to move a single item from its proper place in the bedroom he once inhabited. Stuck.

There’s got to be an appropriate balance somewhere between these two extremes. We can’t just forget someone who had a great impact on our lives. God gave us that relationship for a purpose. We shared our love and joy with each other. Those are biblical attributes that shouldn’t be downplayed or forgotten. But how much is too much? When does healthy remembering become idolizing? When and how do we move on?

Extreme views of heaven

Then the Holy Spirit brings to mind another unanswered question. What will heaven be like? What will we do? What will we think about? What will we care about?

Hollywood often portrays heaven as a place where the residents spend most of their time looking down at the earth, watching what’s happening, and intervening when things don’t go quite right. Everyone in heaven seems to be absorbed in and obsessed with earthly events. Kind of like those who enshrine a loved one who’s passed on. Clinging to a previous life.

Even some Christians that I know talk about their deceased loved ones as looking down on them, delighting in their successes and guiding them into wiser decisions. As if there’s nothing better to do in the unveiled presence of the almighty, creative, all-wise God who perfectly embodies the fruit of the Spirit. What on earth could possibly distract them from such a Being?

But when I try to avoid one extreme, it’s easy for me to go to the opposite one and imagine that when I get to heaven I’ll forget all about this life. As if it never happened. Like the people who tell us to move on as if a loved one had never existed. When describing the new heavens and new earth, Isaiah says, “The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind” (verse 65:17).

I don’t like this scenario. It doesn’t feel right. I know my life here is only a brief instant compared to eternity, but it’s a meaningful instant. There is purpose and depth to it. Will it really all be wiped out when I die, as if it had never happened? On one level, it makes sense, considering whose presence we will dwell in for eternity. But I don’t want it to be true.

I once had a friend who said that when he died, he hoped to sit down for coffee with God and ask Him all the questions that frustrated him so much in this life. Why did You allow Hitler to murder so many of Your chosen people? Why do little children suffer? Where were You when I felt like my prayers were bouncing off the ceiling? My friend was a thinker. His greatest struggles with his faith related to questions that he couldn’t answer, problems that he couldn’t solve. He assumed he would get those answers in the next life. He now knows for sure. I don’t.

The balance

But maybe my thoughts on how to deal with loss can reassure me about the question of heaven. From cover to cover, God’s Word encourages us to remember both those who have gone before us and the historical events that define our faith. I used to get kind of bored with the Old Testament’s obsession with the exodus. How many times do we need to hear about that story? Can’t we just get over it and move on? But God obviously thinks the reminding, the remembering are important.

Maybe there will be the same sort of remembering in heaven. Not the minor details like who was the best looking or who starred in the latest blockbuster or who won the last election. But maybe we’ll remember the important things. The things that remind us of who we are in God’s eyes, of who He is, and of how His faithfulness and mercy have always been there for us. The things that bring Him glory and honor and praise. And maybe, as a result, we’ll find the kinds of answers that my friend was hoping for.

Looking at it this way helps me feel more comfortable with the whole concept of heaven. I can’t buy into the idea that earthly events will capture our attention more than God’s presence. But I’d resent a God who would frustrate my desire for a deeper understanding of this life, an understanding that I’ll never have on this side of heaven. Would the loving, gracious God of the Bible consider my questions too trivial to be worthy of His attention? Would He ask me to just forget about them once my life on this planet is over?

Maybe He’s given us the issue of  how to deal with loss as an analogy of our future life with Him. Maybe it’s an illustration of a greater truth. Maybe my need to find a balance between forgetting and obsessing reflects the balance we’ll experience in the next life. That would be heavenly.

In Spirit and in Truth

The importance of truth

Reading through 1 Corinthians 14. Suddenly the overall theme jumps out at me.

I’m a detail person. I usually see every individual tree, rarely the entire forest. For people like me, it doesn’t help that the NIV labels this chapter “Gifts of Prophecy and Tongues.” That might be the content, but it’s not the theme. The main point is the importance of engaging the mind in worship. A significant idea in these days of increasingly valuing the emotional and experiential at the expense of the understanding.

Key verse: “So what shall I do? I will pray with my spirit, but I will also pray with my mind; I will sing with my spirit, but I will also sing with my mind” (vs. 15). (Okay, I admit it. As one who laments the loss of depth in the lyrics of so many contemporary songs, I just had to underline the second half of that verse in my Bible. Years ago.)

Throughout the chapter, Paul is stressing the greater importance of the gifts that lead to a deeper understanding of God’s Word. He in no way denigrates the more “emotional” gifts, as opposed to the more “intellectual” gifts. They’re both gifts of the Holy Spirit. (Yes, I need to hear that.) But he continues to emphasize the superiority of the latter gifts in building up the Body of Christ.

Verses 4 and 5: “He who speaks in a tongue edifies himself, but he who prophesies edifies the church. I would like every one of you to speak in tongues, but I would rather have you prophesy. He who prophesies is greater than one who speaks in tongues, unless he interprets, so that the church may be edified.”

Speaking in tongues at that time would be equivalent to the more experiential aspects of worship today. It’s a deep, rich communion with God, a worshiping in spirit. It’s not to be dismissed as an inappropriate emotional expression that has no place in our solemn worship services. (Again, I need to hear and remember this.) We are not to discourage those who seek a more spiritual/emotional/experiential means of expression.

But it is more important to teach (prophesy), to stress the “truth” aspect of worshipping “in spirit and in truth” (John 4:24). Without the truth as a solid foundation, we will always do as we please, we will always go where we desire, we will always stray from God’s design. That’s the way fallen man always operates.

The importance of balance

I find it fascinating that God placed the famous chapter on love right before this chapter on worshiping in truth. He could have put them in completely different books. He could have used two different human authors to write them. He could have put one in the Old Testament and one in the New. But this is how He helps people like me to find a better balance. He placed them side by side.

Not that chapter 13 is all about emotions. Biblical love is not just a gooshy feeling inside that tends to come and go, as our culture understands love. Christian love includes our feelings. The emotional side of love cannot be denied, as I’ve heard some Christians teach. But biblical love is so much greater than other kinds of love. It always results in long-term commitment. It always leads to action in the treatment of others, as described in this passage. Not a legalistic “I must act as though I have patience with her even though she’s wrong.” But an ability to respond to others with a heartfelt patience that naturally springs from the emotion of godly love.

And, of course, that chapter 13 love should flow into chapter 14 worship. Even though Paul stresses the superiority of worshiping in truth, “If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing” (13:2).

Worship and suffering

So why do I keep writing here about worship? (See my earlier posts Changing Churches and Sing Unto the Lord a New Song.) What place do these articles have in a blog whose theme is suffering?

The way that we worship reflects the God that we worship. Here’s the message I’ve picked up on in worship services where the greatest emphasis is on the emotional side: God wants and expects everyone to feel good, regardless of what’s happening in their lives. If you’re not smiling, you’re demonstrating a lack of faith. You’re not worshipping, and you’re not pleasing Him. There’s no need to work through your internal issues and struggles. He will instantaneously remove them all as you wave your hands and psych yourself up.

The result? Those who are suffering will live in denial of their pain as they continue to worship this God. Or they’ll walk away from Him after they fail over and over again to work up enough faith to heal the ache inside.

On the other hand, this is the message relayed in services I’ve been in where the truth was stressed at the expense of the spirit: God expects His followers to apply rules for overcoming their hurts without allowing them to pour out their hearts to Him. Get right with Him and everything will be okay. Read your Bible. Pray. Confess and forsake your sins. Go to church. Fellowship with other believers. If that doesn’t work, then do it a little more.

The same result will occur when suffering strikes. Either denial of the pain or walking away from a God who doesn’t seem to care.

But if we worship God in spirit and in truth, the emotional side of our worship will be based on the truth of who God is and what He wants for us. Not a psychological high that ignores the hurts of this world. Not an instant removal of all suffering if we just believe hard enough and smile big enough.

Instead, an understanding of the God of the Bible, who cares deeply for His people and yet uses pain and suffering to grow our faith and to bless the lives that we touch. Our hope and joy will be anchored on the solid ground of His character, as revealed throughout His Word, not just a weekly pumping up that fades away soon after we leave the worship center.

And the intellectual side of our worship will be enriched by the experience of the Holy Spirit moving us to greater joy and hope and compassion, and leading us to greater expressions of heartfelt praise.

The psalmists, whose writings have been used in worship for centuries, freely voice all their needs to God. But they base their expectations and their words on what they know of His character from Israel’s long history of witnessing His actions in their lives. Truth is more important than emotion, but both have a prominent place in God’s Word and in our worship.