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The First Person You Meet in Heaven

A friend reposted a question on her Facebook page from John Tesh’s radio show. The puffy-haired spokesman, best known for his stint on Entertainment Tonight, asked:

“When you get to heaven, who are you going to look for first?”

The answers were probably what you’d expect. 

  • There were about 100 “mommas”
  • Lots of deceased spouses. 
  • A few children gone way too soon. 
  • There were a couple of jokes about not wanting to see an ex. Others about not having to worry about attorneys, since none could possibly make the cut.

One interesting thing: absolutely no one seemed to question whether or not they would make it to heaven themselves. No one, that is, except my friend Sal.

He has no plans for heaven because he simply can’t believe it’s a real place.

Sal’s in his 90s, Italian and full of life, and is quite fun to talk to. Trust me, you’d like him. One other thing: there’s no baloney in anything he says. He’s a bottom line kind of guy.

That is, until Sal starts talking about God and heaven. Then surprisingly, this no-nonsense guy starts pours it on thick with the platitudes:

“I’m OK with death because we all live on in the memories of others.”

That’s nice, but that’s not really “living”, is it? That’s just being remembered. If I’m dead, being remembered doesn’t do me any good. And let’s be honest. My kids will remember me, and maaaaaaybe my grandkids for a while. 

But when they’re gone, then I’m gone, forever. If a memory is all that’s left of me, I’m doomed to oblivion.

Sal’s platitudes continue when he talks about heaven. Frankly, I cringe a little whenever he tries to talk about the place:

“I think we make our own heaven here on earth”

Excuse me, but have you been to earth lately?!?

Sorry, I’ve rarely experienced anything close to unbridled fulfillment and everlasting joy. Sure, fleeting moments here and there, little glimpses perhaps. But good luck creating heaven on earth. As soon as you do, some other person will knock it down while trying to create their own!

Why is it when people like Sal talk about heaven, everything gets fuzzy and symbolic. Why does a tough old codger suddenly sound like a Hallmark card co-written by Oprah and Misterrogers?

Of all people, Sal should care the most about what happens after you die. Why? Because he’s Sal’s in hospice care. He’s gonna die in the next 6 months! 

You’d guess that a 6 month “death sentence” is probably time to take the idea of death and heaven seriously. Many people don’t get any “countdown” before their deaths. Most die anesthetized and comatose, unable to change their minds. Sal is lucky, but Sal is throwing away the merciful hand life (or maybe death) has dealt him.

God has left reminders all around us that our days are numbered. 

  • Every funeral we attend of a friend is meant as a “heavenly heads-up”.
  • The polaroids from that first date with your husband eventually change color and curl in your garage’s heat.
  • That “World’s Best Dad” Father’s Day card your daughter made for you at age 5 will soon fade and turn to dust.

And you too, my friend, will turn to dust as well.

Because of that reality, I want to know if I am going to live forever or not. And I want to know it with as much certainty as possible, because what else really matters beyond that? If there is a place like heaven, we should do anything and everything to make sure we’ll be there. 

How can Sal ignores the fact that if there’s no heaven, then absolutely everything we love…and everyone we love…is going to go away? Forever! 

I know what you’re thinking. You think I’d be better off not pondering these things. But I believe that’s the problem with most people. By not thinking about death, and existence, and eternity, we miss the most important question of life. And as a result, our lives lack the sweetness that truly “happy endings” bring. By acknowledging our own “expiration date”, we can actually start living lives more aware and meaningful than if we just sleep-walk through them, oblivious to the fact that soon the end credits will roll and our story in this world will be over.

But instead of savoring life and living it to its fullest, too many allow life to peeter away.

Here’s what another friend of mine says about dying:

In My Father’s house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself; that where I am, there you may be also. And where I go you know, and the way you know.”

Thomas said to Him, “Lord, we do not know where You are going, and how can we know the way?”

Jesus said to him, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me…” – John 14:2-6

I just spoke those very words earlier today. I was called to the bedside of a man struggling to take his final breaths. Cancer had ravaged his body to where he looked just like a victim of a WWII concentration camp. 

In his final moments, the dying man didn’t want pretty words, and he wasn’t interested in being someone’s memory. He wanted to know if Jesus would let him into heaven because he knew he wasn’t going to be in this world much longer.

I looked that man in the eye when I repeated Jesus’ words “if it were not so, I would have told you”. Jesus was saying, “This is important stuff. So important that if heaven wasn’t real, I would let you know. I’m not going to lie to you about something as important as death.”

We really need to stop telling ourselves and others cute little platitudes. Because when death comes, it’s a brutal reality. No one wants poetry or pleasantries then. They want to know when they close their eyes, they will open them in another land…that “undiscovered country” Shakespeare wrote of.

Jesus is looking us in the eye now and telling us, “Don’t worry. I’ve been there and it’s wonderful! And the reason I’ve gone there is to get things ready for you. So hurry up!”

Heaven is too real and too eternal to guess about. So despite what Sal says, you really shouldn’t guess about it either. 

Finally, in answer to dear Mr. Tesh, when I get to heaven I’ll just be looking for one person. And no, it’s not my wife… 

When my eyes close for the last time here on earth and they open in the next world, I’ll be looking for a man. I know if only I can find Him, all will be well. Because He’s the one my wife will be looking for, and God-willing all my kids and grandkids too.

When I find Him, I’ve found everything. That’s how it works. 

Like Sal, we’ve all got a terminal condition. We just don’t know the number of months. One day, every one of us will die. If we’re smart, we’ll stop spouting platitudes and start reaching out to a very real God. For He alone will determine who lives with Him forever in a place of everlasting joy.

Sound too good to be true? No, it is the truth, because Jesus reminded us He is the way, THE TRUTH, and the life Himself. He never lied, every word He said is the very essence of Truth. 

And if it were not so, He would have told you. Jesus would have told you, that is. And maybe even John Tesh.

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Our dream house was a 120-year old 3-story Victorian home. It was just a few blocks away from one of the loveliest parks in the city and the same distance from the church I pastored. I could literally walk to work, and did so on many mornings. How convenient!

Unlike the other brick houses that lined the streets nearby, this one was painted light yellow and stood apart from the rest. Plaster reliefs of baby angels wrapped around the base of the house. They represented the children of the original owners, making the structure even more unique. It also had a three-car garage at the back of it. Few houses in this older section of town had one as large, and many people resorted to parking on the street. But not us! On just an average salary, we had bought one of the nicest places to live in the area. 

I had always dreamed of owning a Victorian home. I had performed the role of Prof. Henry Higgins from the musical My Fair Lady right before we moved to our new city. So I was primed to live the life of the English gentleman, sipping tea in my beautiful old house. I loved the old wood, the stained glass windows, and our “penthouse suite” for my wife and me on the top floor. We’d be sequestered away from the noise of our little girls playing below us. It all seemed so ideal.

But it turned out to be anything but ideal. Our “Golden House”, as our little girls came to call it, was not so golden. In fact, our dream house almost killed us, quite literally. 

One afternoon I got a call at the church. It was Dawn, my wife, and she was sobbing hysterically. Finally I was able to make out enough of her words to understand what was happening.

“I fell…come home!”

Almost 20 years ago, my wife had been in a bad car accident that crushed her right leg. That ankle couldn’t turn at all. So as I ran the 5 blocks to my home, I knew what had happened.

When I got to the house, I found Dawn in the basement. She was headed to the washer and drier there, and had misjudged a step going down. She hit the concrete floor hard.

After getting her to the hospital, thankfully we learned nothing had been broken. However, that would be just the first of several falls for Dawn down those steps. We eventually moved the washer and drier up to the second floor, which helped a little. But the bottom line was a three-story house with narrow stairways were not meant for a woman who had challenges with mobility.

I also learned having your bedroom on the third-floor is not a good idea for a chubby guy in his mid-50s. There were a few days I wondered if I’d still be alive by the time I reached the top floor. Though I began on the stairway to the bedroom, I might end up on the stairway to heaven…

Then there was the city. Dawn and I always loved culture, restaurants, theater and all the things a great city has to offer. So living there, we felt like kids in a candy store. There was always some new restaurant to explore, always a show playing somewhere, and interesting people living all around us. It seemed ideal.

Except for crime. And taxes. Many cities are big on those, and ours was no exception. We had both in abundance.

One of our regular nightly diversions was watching the notifications on our community’s “Next Door App” alert us to all the recent shootings and hold-ups around us. One of us would hear gunshots, and I’d watch for the posts to pop up. I’d then calculate how close it was to our home. Many were within just a few blocks, some just down the street. 

We would occasionally get notices of some tax we hadn’t paid. Usually, we neglected to pay because the city had neglected to ever send a bill. Then one day, you get a notice you’re being sent to a collections agency, even though you still hadn’t received a bill yourself. 

Once we got a bill for trash pick-up. We were confused because we paid a refuse bill on time every month. But a lady on the phone informed us what we had paid was in fact only the garbage bill. There was completely different bill that was a tax for just having trash pick up available to us in the city. This bill was paying for the “possibility” our trash might be picked up. No kidding.

I’m sure they’re still probably working on a way to collect a tax on our taxes. 

All of this added together was a painful lesson on the difference between perception and reality. After we first moved to that city and were still living in an apartment, I walked down those very streets and fantasized about how wonderful living there would be. When we found the Golden House, we rejoiced and basically cried out, “Here, take our money” to the realtor. 

But the view from the outside of a situation is always much different from the inside. Nothing is ever quite what you expect…with houses, or with life.

The problem with so many of the things we want is it’s too often based on an illusion. We think a thing, a person, or a situation will bring happiness. But happiness is never found in those things outside of us.

Real happiness only happens from the inside out.

There’s an old fashioned Bible word for this foolishness: covetousness. The prohibition against coveting is actually the 10th and final commandment. It’s easily skimmed over in favor of the more R-rated commandments against murder or adultery. Simply wanting your neighbors stuff as opposed to stealing it or killing for it seems like no big deal in comparison.

But coveting is like a powerful drug. The addict never gets enough. Once he gets that one thing he’s obsessed over, he’s disappointed to realize it doesn’t fulfill his needs and he moves on to something more. The new car he’d wanted all his life now sits in the garage most days. She can’t even remember why she bought that purse now. That’s how coveting works: whatever you get, it’s never enough. You’re always left wanting something else, and even more addicted to your desires.

Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart rejoiced in all my labor; And this was my reward from all my labor. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on the labor in which I had toiled; And indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind. There was no profit under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 2:10-11

Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. - Luke 12:15

There was nothing wrong with us wanting a house. But it was very wrong of me to think that it would bring us so much happiness on its own. The ideal life and fulfillment I was expecting from a house was unreasonable. 

That kind of happiness only comes from God’s address, not mine.

Inevitably, we become like kids on the day after Christmas. We’ve opened every package, played with every toy, and we’re already bored with them. The newness wore off in a day, all because we were expecting too much from them to begin with.

Most homes stop being dream houses the minute we walk into them. Reality inevitably sets in, and the “house porn” on the realtor’s website is now just a bunch of plaster and dry wall. 

We finally made it out of our dream house before it killed us. No, we didn't run screaming from it in the middle of the night like in the Shining or the Amityville Horror. When we left, it did take quite a bite out of our finances, and we had to sell for quite a bit less than we'd paid. But the wound was worth it for the lesson we learned.

We’re in a new place now, in a much smaller city. We’re renting a little one-story house we’re hoping to buy soon. We're in a little neighborhood where we hardly ever lock our front door. It's pretty boring compared to city life, but that’s just fine with me.

I’ve discovered what really makes a “dream house”. The dream is not the house, it’s the people you put in it. Regardless of the size or location, those people are what makes life worthwhile. 

Everything else is just a dream. And all that glitters is not a golden house.

Our dream house was a 120-year old 3-story Victorian home. It was just a few blocks away from one of the loveliest parks in the city and the same distance from the church I pastored. I could literally walk to work, and did so on many mornings. How convenient!

Unlike the other brick houses that lined the streets nearby, this one was painted light yellow and stood apart from the rest. Plaster reliefs of baby angels wrapped around the base of the house. They represented the children of the original owners, making the structure even more unique. It also had a three-car garage at the back of it. Few houses in this older section of town had one as large, and many people resorted to parking on the street. But not us! On just an average salary, we had bought one of the nicest places to live in the area. 

I had always dreamed of owning a Victorian home. I had performed the role of Prof. Henry Higgins from the musical My Fair Lady right before we moved to our new city. So I was primed to live the life of the English gentleman, sipping tea in my beautiful old house. I loved the old wood, the stained glass windows, and our “penthouse suite” for my wife and me on the top floor. We’d be sequestered away from the noise of our little girls playing below us. It all seemed so ideal.

But it turned out to be anything but ideal. Our “Golden House”, as our little girls came to call it, was not so golden. In fact, our dream house almost killed us, quite literally. 

One afternoon I got a call at the church. It was Dawn, my wife, and she was sobbing hysterically. Finally I was able to make out enough of her words to understand what was happening.

“I fell…come home!”

Almost 20 years ago, my wife had been in a bad car accident that crushed her right leg. That ankle couldn’t turn at all. So as I ran the 5 blocks to my home, I knew what had happened.

When I got to the house, I found Dawn in the basement. She was headed to the washer and drier there, and had misjudged a step going down. She hit the concrete floor hard.

After getting her to the hospital, thankfully we learned nothing had been broken. However, that would be just the first of several falls for Dawn down those steps. We eventually moved the washer and drier up to the second floor, which helped a little. But the bottom line was a three-story house with narrow stairways were not meant for a woman who had challenges with mobility.

I also learned having your bedroom on the third-floor is not a good idea for a chubby guy in his mid-50s. There were a few days I wondered if I’d still be alive by the time I reached the top floor. Though I began on the stairway to the bedroom, I might end up on the stairway to heaven…

Then there was the city. Dawn and I always loved culture, restaurants, theater and all the things a great city has to offer. So living there, we felt like kids in a candy store. There was always some new restaurant to explore, always a show playing somewhere, and interesting people living all around us. It seemed ideal.

Except for crime. And taxes. Many cities are big on those, and ours was no exception. We had both in abundance.

One of our regular nightly diversions was watching the notifications on our community’s “Next Door App” alert us to all the recent shootings and hold-ups around us. One of us would hear gunshots, and I’d watch for the posts to pop up. I’d then calculate how close it was to our home. Many were within just a few blocks, some just down the street. 

We would occasionally get notices of some tax we hadn’t paid. Usually, we neglected to pay because the city had neglected to ever send a bill. Then one day, you get a notice you’re being sent to a collections agency, even though you still hadn’t received a bill yourself. 

Once we got a bill for trash pick-up. We were confused because we paid a refuse bill on time every month. But a lady on the phone informed us what we had paid was in fact only the garbage bill. There was completely different bill that was a tax for just having trash pick up available to us in the city. This bill was paying for the “possibility” our trash might be picked up. No kidding.

I’m sure they’re still probably working on a way to collect a tax on our taxes. 

All of this added together was a painful lesson on the difference between perception and reality. After we first moved to that city and were still living in an apartment, I walked down those very streets and fantasized about how wonderful living there would be. When we found the Golden House, we rejoiced and basically cried out, “Here, take our money” to the realtor. 

But the view from the outside of a situation is always much different from the inside. Nothing is ever quite what you expect…with houses, or with life.

The problem with so many of the things we want is it’s too often based on an illusion. We think a thing, a person, or a situation will bring happiness. But happiness is never found in those things outside of us.

Real happiness only happens from the inside out.

There’s an old fashioned Bible word for this foolishness: covetousness. The prohibition against coveting is actually the 10th and final commandment. It’s easily skimmed over in favor of the more R-rated commandments against murder or adultery. Simply wanting your neighbors stuff as opposed to stealing it or killing for it seems like no big deal in comparison.

But coveting is like a powerful drug. The addict never gets enough. Once he gets that one thing he’s obsessed over, he’s disappointed to realize it doesn’t fulfill his needs and he moves on to something more. The new car he’d wanted all his life now sits in the garage most days. She can’t even remember why she bought that purse now. That’s how coveting works: whatever you get, it’s never enough. You’re always left wanting something else, and even more addicted to your desires.

Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart rejoiced in all my labor; And this was my reward from all my labor. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on the labor in which I had toiled; And indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind. There was no profit under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 2:10-11

Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. - Luke 12:15

There was nothing wrong with us wanting a house. But it was very wrong of me to think that it would bring us so much happiness on its own. The ideal life and fulfillment I was expecting from a house was unreasonable. 

That kind of happiness only comes from God’s address, not mine.

Inevitably, we become like kids on the day after Christmas. We’ve opened every package, played with every toy, and we’re already bored with them. The newness wore off in a day, all because we were expecting too much from them to begin with.

Most homes stop being dream houses the minute we walk into them. Reality inevitably sets in, and the “house porn” on the realtor’s website is now just a bunch of plaster and dry wall. 

We finally made it out of our dream house before it killed us. No, we didn't run screaming from it in the middle of the night like in the Shining or the Amityville Horror. When we left, it did take quite a bite out of our finances, and we had to sell for quite a bit less than we'd paid. But the wound was worth it for the lesson we learned.

We’re in a new place now, in a much smaller city. We’re renting a little one-story house we’re hoping to buy soon. We're in a little neighborhood where we hardly ever lock our front door. It's pretty boring compared to city life, but that’s just fine with me.

I’ve discovered what really makes a “dream house”. The dream is not the house, it’s the people you put in it. Regardless of the size or location, those people are what makes life worthwhile. 

Everything else is just a dream. And all that glitters is not a golden house.