Eternal Perspectives

We think of ourselves as fun-loving, and of God as a humorless killjoy. But we’ve got it backward. It’s not God who’s boring; it’s us. Did we invent wit, humor, and laughter? No. God did. We’ll never begin to exhaust God’s sense of humor and his love for adventure. The real question is this: How could God not be bored with us?

~ Randy Alcorn, [Heaven]

Eternal Perspectives

Consider the old proverb, “Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.” It assumes that the only earthly pleasures we’ll ever enjoy must be obtained now. As Christians, we should indeed eat, drink, and be merry—and also sacrifice, suffer, and die—all to the glory of God. In doing so, we’re preparing for an eternal life in which we will eat, drink, and be merry, but never again die. This present life, then, is not our last chance to eat, drink, and be merry—rather, it is the last time our eating, drinking, and merrymaking can be corrupted by sin, death, and the Curse.

~ Randy Alcorn, [Heaven]

Eternal Perspectives

I knew I should want to go to heaven, but I didn’t. I would have said that I want to go to heaven when I die, but mainly, I just didn’t want to go to hell. My problem was a badly warped theology. I knew that in heaven we would worship God forever. But the only model I had for worship was church, and frankly, I wasn’t in love with church enough to want it to go on through ages of ages, world without end. My mental image was of Reverend Cant droning on for ever and ever.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, quite unconsciously, heaven was an extended, boring church service like those I had not yet learned to appreciate on earth—with this exception: that you never got to go home to the roast beef dinner. What a way to anticipate my eternal destiny. But then I read The Great Divorce. It awakened in me an appetite for something better than roast beef. It aroused a longing to inherit that for which I was created, for that which would fulfill my utmost longings and engender new longings and fulfill those too.

After reading The Great Divorce, for the first time in my life, I felt heaven to be both utterly real and utterly desirable.

~ Wayne Martindale, [Journey to the Celestial City]

Eternal Perspectives

Why won’t we be bored in heaven? Because it’s the one place where both impulses—to go beyond, to go home—are perfectly joined and totally satisfied. It’s the one place where we’re constantly discovering—where everything is always fresh and the possessing of a thing is as good as the pursuing of it—and yet where we are fully at home—where everything is as it ought to be and where we find, undiminished, that mysterious something we never found down here. . . . And this lifelong melancholy that hangs on us, this wishing we were someone else somewhere else, vanishes too. Our craving to go beyond is always and fully realized. Our yearning for home is once and for all fulfilled. The ahh! of deep satisfaction and the aha! of delighted surprise meet, and they kiss.

~ Mark Buchanan, [Things Unseen]

Eternal Perspectives

I knew I should want to go to heaven, but I didn’t. I would have said that I want to go to heaven when I die, but mainly, I just didn’t want to go to hell. My problem was a badly warped theology. I knew that in heaven we would worship God forever. But the only model I had for worship was church, and frankly, I wasn’t in love with church enough to want it to go on through ages of ages, world without end. My mental image was of Reverend Cant droning on for ever and ever.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, quite unconsciously, heaven was an extended, boring church service like those I had not yet learned to appreciate on earth—with this exception: that you never got to go home to the roast beef dinner. What a way to anticipate my eternal destiny. But then I read The Great Divorce. It awakened in me an appetite for something better than roast beef. It aroused a longing to inherit that for which I was created, for that which would fulfill my utmost longings and engender new longings and fulfill those too.

After reading The Great Divorce, for the first time in my life, I felt heaven to be both utterly real and utterly desirable.

Wayne Martindale, [Journey to the Celestial City]

Eternal Perspectives

As a child, I feared heaven would be boring. I missed the point of gold streets and pearly gates. As a 10-year-old, what I really liked doing most was playing baseball, collecting fossils, and hunting frogs.

In the years that followed, the deaths of family members and friends have changed the way I think about heaven. But I still have questions. What will we do after enjoying long embraces, tears of laughter, and catching up? My mind still locks up like an overloaded computer when I try to weigh imponderable questions about a hereafter that will last forever.

Ironically, what gives me the most peace of mind is not cutting loose my imagination, but rather learning to trust. I find rest in the thought that God doesn’t want us to know what He has planned for us. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear such a God say something like, “If I told you, I’d have to take you.” Or, based on the apostle Paul’s experience, “If I told you how good it’s going to be, I’d have to make life more difficult for you now.”

~ Mart De Haan, [Been Thinking About]

Eternal Perspectives

Why won’t we be bored in heaven? Because it’s the one place where both impulses—to go beyond, to go home—are perfectly joined and totally satisfied. It’s the one place where we’re constantly discovering—where everything is always fresh and the possessing of a thing is as good as the pursuing of it—and yet where we are fully at home—where everything is as it ought to be and where we find, undiminished, that mysterious something we never found down here. . . . And this lifelong melancholy that hangs on us, this wishing we were someone else somewhere else, vanishes too. Our craving to go beyond is always and fully realized. Our yearning for home is once and for all fulfilled. The ahh! of deep satisfaction and the aha! of delighted surprise meet, and they kiss.

~ Mark Buchanan, [Things Unseen]