Heaven…

[Due to something that happened over the weekend, I am interrupting my series on Old Women for this week.  It will most likely continue next week!  🙂 ]

I am going to make an admission that could make me sound heathenish: I believe that I am going to heaven.  The trip is  an eventuality I feel confident of because of Jesus’ love and sacrifice on the cross for me and everyone else who accepts His gift. When I think about dying and going to heaven though – for eternity – I think about how cool it will be to swim in the ocean deep and wide without fear or a snorkel.  I think about maybe God will allow me to fly and feel the freedom of a bird’s wings.  I think about the amazing beauty I will get to enjoy that isn’t tainted by man’s sinful pollution.  Can you imagine the sunrise’s glory with no smog?  Can you imagine having lunch with Esther (either the Biblical Esther or my own Aunt Esther, both are on my list of people to spend time with!) or sitting around a camp fire listening to Peter or Isaac or your own great grandma?

What I struggle about are the verses in the Bible that describe how we will spend eternity standing around the Throne of God, continually worshiping him. I haven’t actually ever liked that description of heaven because it sounds boring. Yup.  There’s the admission. Heaven in my human, sinful mind would be pretty boring if all I get to do participate in a continual worship service. For eternity.  Hence my hope that I can worship God’s glory by experiencing and enjoying His amazing creation in its perfection.

Now let’s back up a little so that I can give you my own personal context.  I was raised in conservative, quiet, churches. While I am certain that the depth of feelings and commitment to God was genuine, we sat quietly in the pew as the service progressed.  We stood and sang demurely an ancient song from a musty hymnal, not too loud, then sat back down. People whispered if they talked at all and if you needed to cough, you excused yourself and went out in the foyer.  As I’ve grown older, I have gravitated towards more demonstrative worship styles. When we lived in California, we attended two different churches. They were a little more “spirit filled” and I remember the first time I ever raised my hands up while I sang a praise song. The music was louder and more upbeat, the hymnal exchanged for words projected on a screen. Yes, much better, I thought.  But still not something I would look forward to doing for eternity.  Our little Golden Prairie country church in Wyoming, with its loving chaos during a noisy greeting time, louder country praise band music, and the occasional laugh out loud or spontaneous “amen!” from a congregant was better, but frankly, the idea of heavenly worship 24/7  still reeked of dullness to me.

That was then. I don’t feel that way now.

You might, logically ask why the change?  Here it is:  This weekend our church in St. Croix, Frederiksted Baptist, celebrated its 55th anniversary.  It was quite a celebration with a banquet on Friday that was beautiful and a special service last night.  The service last night was the game changer for me.  First off, there were lots of people there.  I mean LOTS.  People and their pastors from many other churches (not just Baptist!) all over the island and a few that flew in from points far away were there.  The small sanctuary was so full they added folding chairs in the aisles, people were standing in the back and the youth sat outside under a tent and watched on a TV.  More people joined us by watching the live stream on the internet.  Now, lots of people crowded together don’t necessarily mean good things to me.  Crowds often are intimidating, especially when I don’t know many of the members and I am a newcomer. Crowds are hot, noisy. I was uncomfortable as the place filled up before the service began.

Then, the singing started.  It took the first verse for the congregation to focus and by the second verse, I began to get a glimpse of what worship should be – what it will be – when we are all there in heaven around the throne.  I joined my voice with everyone’s, though I couldn’t hear it. I couldn’t hear Karl singing beside me. Our voices rang out, though, and merged with the others in a way that I knew God could hear the total and the individual. People clapped and smiled and raised their hands.  As the two hour service progressed, there were speakers and poems, a dynamite sermon and more songs. What songs!  People danced and smiled and sang TO GOD!  And what is amazing is that I know He was listening.  He was there with us- probably dancing and singing, too.  Maybe that’s the part I never was quite able to picture before.  Standing around the throne of God singing and worshiping isn’t a musty ritual. It isn’t boring or just something we will be made to do.  It is joy enacted.  It is a gift I give and we give to a God who has given us Everything including our eternity.  All my hesitation about standing at the throne of God worshiping are gone this morning.  In fact, I am looking forward to it because I now understand how beautiful it is.  (Though I still harbor the hope that I will also be able to swim and fly…)