“You ask me if we will know each other in heaven. My friend, we will not really know each other UNTIL heaven!”
So as the joke goes, “A baptist pastor dies and goes to heaven…”
But inevitably the day finally came that I did. Right now, I’m standing by a roadside. But I don’t know how I got here.
Everything looks different, but also strangely familiar. There are flowers, trees, grass, and sky, but not like before. Now everything is bursting with color and detail.
I’ve just stepped from a 14-inch black and white TV screen with bunny ear antennas to a high definition IMAX screen.
I’m somewhere that looks like earth, but is definitely not merely earth. I feel alive, but more alive than I ever have before. I can see things, hear things, feel things in a way I never have before today. Then it hits me.
I’m not alive anymore. Yet I feel more alive than ever. How ironic.
I have no idea what happened to bring me to this place. I expect it was one of those mundane moments that often lead to a person’s death.
You look away from the road for a split second. Your foot slightly misses the next step in front of you. A sharp pain shoots through your arm and you wonder, “What could have caused that?”
Then, you’re suddenly somewhere else. Death is hardly ever as dramatic as in the movies. No goodbye speeches, few chances for warm farewells. More often unforeseen accidents, hospital rooms with morpheme to numb the pain, and a slipping away without our complete awareness. And then…we’re gone.
And now I’m here. Wherever here is.
Suddenly I laugh to myself. “Maybe my wife finally came to her senses and killed me in my sleep. Every morning I’ve woken up after an argument surprised not to find a pillow over my face!”
I see Dawn’s face in my mind, and wonder how she is. Wonder how she’s grieving, and hoping she’s moving on and enjoying life again. Then I feel a sense of calm, because I know she’s ok and that she’ll be here soon.
As I walk, the road becomes more narrow and wooded. Then the road becomes a pathway into a garden. There’s lush, heavy vines and kudzu. Multiple little pathways weave around well-manicured vegetation.
“It’s paradise, Dave.”
I turn around and He’s sitting there on a large rock by a stream. His shoes are off, and he’s stirring the water with one of his feet. His smile is big and inviting. Though I’ve never seen Him before, immediately I know who He is. I start to kneel.
“Hey, no time to sit around here. We’ve got a lot to do!”
Before I can respond, his shoes are back on and He’s leading me further into the garden.
My brain starts playing theological bingo, checking off boxes. He called this place “paradise”. I remembered Jesus had said to the thief on the cross, “Today you will be with me in paradise”, When He used that uniquely Persian word, it actually implied an enclosed garden. You know, like the Garden of Eden. I guess everything comes full circle.
“We’ve got a little welcoming party here to meet you, Dave. I don’t want to keep them waiting any longer!”
He continues to pull me down the pathway, around hedges and little ponds. We round a corner and there in a clearing is a huge picnic table filled with probably a hundred or more people. There are picnic baskets filled with food, with place settings in front of each guest. But as I scanned the faces, I saw something I wasn’t expecting.
The table was filled with people I couldn’t stand.
“Lord, there must be some mistake. I think this is the wrong table!” I try to turn and head back the way we came. Heaven is supposed to be a place for reunion with family and loved ones, not a lynch mob.
“Nope, this is exactly the right table, Dave. This table is filled with people who need to see you. And since you think you know the Bible so well, you should have already guessed this was coming!”
Immediately, I start flipping through my mental file of Bible trivia. Nothing. I’m getting nothing.
“Oh, come on, Billy Graham! Seriously?”
Jesus is grinning ear to ear, clearly enjoying my discomfort. What could I be missing? It must be something obvious. Some passage that’s very well-known but escapes me now for some reason…
“Dave, think! What is that in front of you?”
It’s a table.
“Exactly! All those years of seminary finally paid off. And what are those?” He points to the guests at the table.
I notice He didn’t say “who” are they, but “what are those”.
Enemies.
“Ding ding! We have a winner!” Jesus applauds me, still grinning though staring deeply into my eyes.
He grabs my hand and starts pulling me toward this table of the last people in the world I want to see. I mentally recite a familiar verse from Psalm 23 to myself…
“He prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies”
Terrific. My first day in heaven, and there’s a good chance it’s gonna end in a food fight.
A quick glance around the table, and it’s a Rogue’s Gallery of bad memories. There’s the pastor who fired me unjustly when I became inconvenient for him. Over there, a friend who walked out on me in a time of great need. And sitting smugly at the far end are a dozen little old ladies from every church I served who had gossiped about me.
Hmmm, I really didn’t expect many of these people to make it here.
“No offense, Dave. They didn’t expect you here either!”
“Thanks for having my back, Jesus,” I’m thinking now. “Appreciate you broadcasting my inner monologue.”
“I didn’t have to broadcast it, Dave. That’s one thing about heaven you’re gonna have to get used to: no more secrets. One of my children’s biggest problems is how their pride made them hide so from each other. You try so hard to look strong, and you hate to ever appear vulnerable. But the harder you tried, the more it separated you from your spiritual brothers and sisters. But today is gonna fix all that. Just wait!”
Jesus sounded excited when He said that last phrase. But I was more than a little afraid of what He meant by it.
“Come on, have a seat, buddy. This gathering is all about you today!”
There was one empty chair at the table with a singular helium balloon tied to it. Who knew Jesus had such an ironic sense of humor? I took the open seat as all eyes were on me. The old man seated next to me had once been an angry neighbor who hated our kids. He puts a cup in front of me.
“Something to drink for you.”
Ha, I thought. You take a drink of it first, grandpa.
“Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned.” He smiles knowingly at me and then looks around the table at the others.
“Remember what I said, Dave…no secrets!” Jesus was clearly anticipating something exciting going down. “You might as well say what you’re thinking because they’ll know it anyway! That brain of yours is an open book today!”
Nervous laughter spreads throughout the whole table. I got the feeling everyone of them had already been through this awkward initiation process and were relishing not being the guest of honor. Now Jesus goes to stand at the head of the table.
“You’ll all remember when I taught you to pray, I told you to ask the Father to forgive you your debts. But the next phrase was just as important: …you are also to forgive your debtors. For you to become right with the Father, you have to get right with each other. We’re all part of a big family here, and your Daddy’s not gonna let His kids stay mad at each other. So today is where we set all the cards on the table.”
Wait. As I survey the table again, there are some faces that don’t fit here. In fact, there are several people from my past who I don’t consider enemies at all.
Over there, it’s that guy who was on my church staff. Our budget was running dry and we had to cut him loose. He wasn’t a bad guy, I just didn’t have the money.
And that lady to my left…she came to my church for a few months. Then she just disappeared. I heard she might have been struggling, but I never ended up checking on her. But I didn’t have anything against her.
“That’s right, Dave. You didn’t have anything against several of these folks. But they’ve come because of who you are to them.”
Now I get it. It’s not just my enemies. For some of them, I’m the enemy.
“Now the truth will be revealed. And my dear friends, it’s the truth that will set you free!” Jesus eased down into his chair and started scanning from face to face. Something was about to happen.
At that moment, something indeed happened that, while not terrifying at first, become so when I realized its full implications. I could now see into every life around that table. I could see the times we had interacted on earth. But now, I was seeing it not from just my point of view but from the outside looking on.
I was seeing it the way God had seen it. Not only every action and word, but what was in each heart as well.
That part was fascinating, seeing not only what happened but also each person’s motives behind it. The terrifying part was when I realized everyone else was able to see into my own heart just the same way I could see theirs. As I looked at each interaction, I heard the words spoken. I heard what they had said, and how I had responded.
Man, was I really that sensitive? That selfish and immature? I don’t remember responding like that. What a baby I was!
But then, I saw their motives behind what they were saying and doing to me. I saw the fear and the misunderstandings. I saw the false motives they attributed to me, and the insecurities making them react negatively to me. We were all so polluted by our experiences in the world, and so filled insecure in our own worth to God.
No wonder they responded so defensively. How fragile we were, but we never showed it on the outside.
At first, I was embarrassed at my weaknesses being exposed. But when I understood everyone was experiencing the same revelations I was, it had an opposite effect. I began to feel a strange sort of a bond with them. We were all so…human.
After a long silence, there was a sound that traveled around the table like a ripple in a pond. Everyone was turning to each other and simultaneously saying very simply, “I’m sorry”. Much of it was directed towards me, but occasionally toward others around them as well. I found my lips forming those words as well, saying them over and over in rhythm to everyone around me.
Tears flowed freely, but then something much more unexpected. There was laughter! Rolls of laughter began washing over the table. It began as snorts and chuckles and evolved into waves that seemed to be crashing against us. It was the laughter of people who’d been imprisoned for a lifetime but now suddenly set free.
The laughter was surprising, but also was the presence of the tears. I thought heaven was supposed to be a place without tears.
“Remember, Dave, it says I will wipe every tear from their eyes. There have to be tears for me to wipe away. Today is the day we cry the tears of reconciliation. And in heaven, happy tears are always allowed.”
Around that table, all our secrets had been revealed and agendas exposed. Our only regrets were that our stupid pride had made us wait so long. How much suffering could have been avoided if we’d just lowered our guard and let each other see inside.
“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jesus smiles as He swipes a sleeve across His own eyes. Boy, He loves flashing that smile of His around.
Actually, I’m a little sorry our lunch might be nearing an end now.
“Don’t worry, kid.” The old neighbor of mine can’t help but chime in. “You’ll get to do a lot more of these picnics. You’ve still got quite a few enemies left down on earth.”
Jesus joins in the fun. “Yep, I see lots more al fresco lunches in your future, Dave. Good thing you can’t gain weight here. With your track record for enemies and these lunches, you could’ve become the fattest guy in heaven!”
The whole table explodes in laughter. I’ve rarely had this good a time with friends before, much less enemies.
We laugh and talk for hours on end. Food is passed and glasses are filled again and again. We get to the point we’re all tired of telling each other how sorry we are. We laugh to each other about the very things that used to make us cry on earth. It goes on and on, as the sun hangs stubbornly in the sky. In fact, it appears as if it will never set.
No matter, for we don’t have to leave. We are already home. And in this land fairer than day, there are still a few happy tears. And the sun will never set on our joy, because here there is no more night.
