Wheat Fields and Heaven

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I don’t think about Heaven ALL the time. But I do think about it.

I’m thankful, because of my propensity to think about it, that Jesus supplied me with a refreshing, granted unusual, picture of what Heaven might be like. I know that whatever images I dream up in my imperfect mind pale in comparison to the actual place. But as long as I have the time to dream, I’m happy to have this dream on which my visions have landed.

When I was young I thought Heaven would look like all the pictures I saw in my picture Bible and on the Sunday School flannel graphs. White. Hard. Structured. Quiet. Marbleish and big and square. Kind of not very fun looking when you’re small and seven and the best things in your whole world are soft and warm and little like you — the bear named Snowball who sits on the edge of the bed at night and protects you from the bad guys; your mom’s hands; that mug of hot chocolate your dad makes because you wake up way too early on Saturday mornings. I wanted to love Heaven, but the picture I carried around with me felt more like a huge disappointment than The Great Reward.

Grace alone provided me with a new mental picture when, as an adult, I went through a Bible study in Revelation. I realized that my picture of Heaven was wrong. My thoughts of a white, hard, structured, hushed place ignored the most beautiful attributes of the One who has lived there since before time began.

I believe the air will smell like honeysuckles and gardenias and lilacs. The hills and mountains will be filled with trees, grasses, and bushes, the likes of which we have never seen before. I believe birds will sing in harmony all the time. I believe the wind will blow and we will hear angels worshiping and praises being offered and laughing, laughing, laughing because it will be good, both in the present and in the future because there they are as one. I believe butterflies will fill the skies and lightening bugs will dazzle us even though there is no darkness. The colors will be more brilliant. The sounds will be more electrifying. The whole place will be like a recliner/warm blanket/cup of coffee night after a long bearing up, being brave kind of day.

When I’m singing at church, many times I close my eyes. Everything around me disappears and the Lord takes me mentally to a wheat field. I’m there alone with Him. I don’t see other people who live in Heaven — many of whom I love and long to see again. I don’t see the disciples, or Paul, or the heroes of the faith. I will meet them, but not quite yet. I don’t see the things disclosed in Revelation — no great throne, no fantastic beasts, no trumpets or horses or seals. It’s just me…in a wheat field…with Jesus. And what happens when He takes me to the wheat field is a little funny — I start to twirl. The wind is blowing and I’m totally free to be me with Him. I twirl and I twirl and I praise Him for who He is and for the fact that I am His. I enjoy these brief minutes to the fullest because they are a promise to me that one day I will finally comprehend how completely and fully I have been loved.

For those of you who’ve journeyed with me before in my previous blog, welcome. To those of you who’ve never read anything beyond a hurried text I sent to you, welcome! May this be a place of insight, joy, and encouragement. A place where truth is shared so that you feel truly loved. A place that takes you, even if just for a few minutes, beyond where you are to a new place where it’s just you and Him. Come with me.

“To have Christ means that there is someone who knows me better than I know myself, who is closer than a friend, and who understands the remotest depths of my heart and is able to satisfy them fully,” – Oswald Chambers

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