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.