How much do you think about heaven?

As much as a four-year-old?

Sadie—middle name, Virginia—is named for her great grandmother, Virginia.  Though Great Grandma passed away a couple of years ago, Sadie still remembers her. Nor is this four-year-old content to let those memories fade. On a recent walk with her mom, Lynnette, Sadie asked some pointed questions:

SADIE: Mom, I saw in a book once there will be beautiful water fountains in heaven. Is it true?

MOM:    Not sure, Sadie. But the Bible tells us it will be beautiful, so I wouldn’t be surprised.

SADIE: Are we gonna have houses there?

MOM:    Yes. For sure. The Bible tells us Jesus is getting our house ready.

SADIE   So… it's like a campground? We all have a place, but we are also all together?

MOM:    Sounds pretty close.

SADIE: I know what I’m checking out first.

MOM:    Oh yeah? What?

Sadie:    Great-grandma Virginia's. She is going to have cookies, and the Virginias will finally get to be together!

Finally. When it comes to heaven, that’s a pretty great word. I Thessalonians 4:17 promises, “so we will always be with the Lord”—in other words, finally. Meanwhile, we wait. No cookies—yet.

For now, your Savior and your loved ones—your Virginias—aren’t together. But they will be—someday. 

Soon. 

Looking forward to heaven?

In the third grade, Mrs. Virginia Patterson dared to invite her entire Sunday School class to her home for hot dogs and hamburgers. We played games, had a great time—and I’ve never forgotten that kindness.

Struggling to complete my Awana Scripture memory books, I was blessed with a leader named Leroy Arrasmith. He came over almost every week for a year to help me get those verses memorized. How could you forget that kindness?

Just before computers became popular, I’d developed a passion for writing. When my friend, Ron Taylor, found out, he gave me his electric typewriter—a beautiful and expensive machine. Unthinkable!

When our little girl, Lynnette, wanted to visit me at work (in an era when this was frowned upon), she scrawled a note in her best handwriting to my boss, the Vice President of Moody Radio. Bob Neff immediately took little Lynnette’s note and printed his reply: “Yes, Lynnette. Please come and visit!” How kind.

But there’s a timeless dimension to kindness that it is easy to overlook: kindness lasts forever. In Matthew 10:42, Jesus tells the crowd, “And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward.”

A reward that cannot be lost—for merely giving a cup of cold water? That's what Jesus says. Makes you wonder why we're often so stingy with our kindness.

I can think of a thousand kindnesses shown me by my wife, Diana. And even if life hasn’t turned out quite the way you’d hoped, I bet you’re the recipient of more kindness than you know, too.

But if kindness has a dark side, it's this: it's a limited-time deal. You and I have only what the Bible calls a "mere handbreadth" of space to give it away. In Psalms 39:4, David prays, “O LORD, make me know my end and what is the measure of my days; let me know how fleeting I am!”

I’m neither a psychologist nor a sociologist. But it sure seems to me our country could use a little kindness. Kindness in our politics.  Kindness in our COVID conversations. Kindness in our churches!

We are drowning in the bile of our bitter arguments—Christians, too! But imagine the statement you could make—we could make—if we showed kindness.

It lasts forever, you know. But our time to share it doesn’t.

Photo by Ron Lach from Pexels

Have you ever been terrified while reading Scripture? Numbers chapter 20 gave me quite a zap. In the middle of the desert, the Israelites were without water—or faith.  Their grumbling against Moses quickly morphs into the ridiculous: “Why have you brought the assembly of the LORD into this wilderness, that we should die here, both we and our cattle? And why have you made us come up out of Egypt to bring us to this evil place?” (vv. 4,5). 

God’s response to Moses: “Tell the rock before their eyes to yield its water. So you shall bring water out of the rock for them and give drink to the congregation and their cattle.”

Instead, Moses first reams the people out, arrogantly challenging, "Hear now, you rebels: shall we bring water for you out of this rock?” (As if he and Aaron personally possessed the power to do so). Then, instead of speaking to the rock per God’s instructions, Moses struck the rock twice with his staff. Disobedience!

If it were me, I might have shut off the faucet of my generosity.  Not God. Verse 11 says, “water came out abundantly, and the congregation drank, and their livestock.”  All was well, right?

Wrong. Ultimately, Moses’ anger and arrogance cost him more than he could have imagined. God said, “Because you did not believe in me, to uphold me as holy in the eyes of the people of Israel, therefore you shall not bring this assembly into the land that I have given them” (Numbers 20:12).

Get that?  After facing Pharaoh, announcing the plagues, exiting Egypt, crossing the Red Sea, receiving the Ten Commandments, surviving the wilderness, Moses would never place so much as a toe on the promised land. Two spine-chilling takeaways for you and me:

First, God might well appear to bless our ministry, despite our sin. Observe that the water gushed out! But success does not equal holiness. (Remind you of any recent leadership failures?)

Second, note that we can live lives of great faithfulness, doing great things for God over a great span, and yet sin in a way that results in great disappointment. Like Moses.

Are you terrified yet?

Lord God,

Keep us from arrogance and pride. Keep us from keeping ourselves from entering whatever Promised Land you have intended for us.

Amen!

Have you ever seen so much frustration in America? Forget the “melting pot,” America is a boiling pot! Between the tragedy in Afghanistan, the venom over voting, and the gender revolution, we’ve become a cauldron of the caustic. Federal mandates versus states’ rights, masks versus anti-maskers, vaxers versus no-vaxers—everybody’s angry over something. And that includes Christians.

Of course, everyone is entitled to an opinion. Disagreement is the stuff of democracy. Unquestionably, believers should vote for candidates and policies that honor Christ. But I fear many of us—myself included—may have forgotten something Jesus said when on trial.

Addressing Pilate, Christ said, “My kingdom is not of this world.” And neither is yours. That’s not to say we’re not allowed an opinion. It’s not to say evil should be called anything other than evil. Nor does it mean we wanly smile at godless politics or policies pretending all is well.

We're concerned—and not without reason. But we seem to be more concerned with our concerns than with the one objective Christ left us: “Go and make disciples.”

Our priority is not saving America but saving American souls (and, of course, lost people everywhere). Our kingdom is not of this world!

My Christian friend, Jay, has a gay neighbor named Shawn who endorses nearly every value the Bible opposes (talk about a potential battleground!). But Shawn is without Christ, and Jay has decided he needs to be more concerned about Shawn's eternal life than his lifestyle.

Recently, Shawn's feet have given him awful pain, to the point he can barely walk. Doctors and prescriptions have been only marginally successful, so Shawn has mainly been immobile. In the process, his lawn has grown shaggy.

Unannounced, Jay showed up one afternoon and plowed through the long green mess. It cost him some sweat—and about an hour. But I suspect it bought him a future hearing with his neighbor.

After Jesus told Pilate, “My kingdom is not of this world,” He went out and died for it. For lost people! It’s time you and I kept the main thing the main thing.

Spiky branches thwacked at the edges of our trail as we rolled deeper into the thicket. An emerald canopy overhead created a cooling air pocket as the tractor-pulled wagon groaned at every jolt on the rooted path.

It might have been a safari. Except this was northern Illinois. Nevertheless, two-year-old Emma kept her eyes open for any possible animal sightings. Upon her return from the would-be rain forest, where she missed nothing, she announced, "I saw squirrels and turkeys. But no giraffe." She seemed genuinely disappointed.

Given the density of the woods and Emma’s less-than-1000-days-of-life perspective, it’s not unreasonable that she expected to see a real jungle animal. Alas, apart from a few zoos, there are no giraffes in Illinois.

But what would you think if, instead of Emma, it was me looking for giraffes? If I persisted at such silliness, you’d question my competence.

Yet isn’t that the mistake so many of us make as we process personal trials and troubles? We’re looking for a life filled with cuddly long-lashed giraffes.  We anticipate Disney World rather than the real world. But just as Illinois isn't a jungle, this earth isn't heaven!

Job declared, “For man is born for trouble, as the sparks fly upward.” Paul’s sober promise is that “All who want to live in a godly way in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.” Jesus assured us, "In the world, you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world.”

That’s not to say that our Christian lives will be nothing more than a bleak canvas filled with hopeless hues of gray. There is joy in serving Jesus!  We’re to encourage one another with the expectation of Christ’s return.

As for trouble on the trail? Let’s keep it all in perspective.  And—don’t expect any giraffes.