When I think of heaven….

I usually think about the streets of gold. Maybe it’s from the multitude of Sunday School pictures in which I colored the streets yellow, because the gold crayon never worked quite as well and left a dingy brownish color.

I think of a huge choir in which angels sing a version of Brooklyn Tabernacle’s “Thou Oh Lord” that would  knock me off my feet.  The kind of singing that reaches down into your soul and rattles your teeth.

I think about meeting Ms. Betty and my sister and talking for hours and hugging. We will hug a lot, to make up for lost time in a place where there is no time.

I think about going on a long walk with Jesus, across a field, just me and him. I won’t have to share him with Beth Moore or Billy Graham, who surely deserve more of his time than me, For those moments He will just walk with me and I doubt we will talk much, but I hope he holds my hand and lets my fingers trace the nail print in his palm. If there are any questions, it will probably be just me asking why.  Why did you love me? Why were you so good?

There are some things that I don’t include in my ruminations of that City.

I seldom think about  the fact that I will be there with people who I have fought and avoided for years here on earth.  Sometimes I forget, or mostly choose not to think about the fact that they will be there. Despite the fact that they have a less than stellar personality on earth, they belong to the Father… a bit of a step child if you will, but a child none the less.

And what will I say? “Hmmm, I see you made it after all?”  or maybe, “Now do you see how wrong you were?”  or perhaps, ” I’m ready to receive that apology any time you’re ready to give it.”

Maybe there in their glorified state, where we see the Son as the brightest star and He shines so brightly all sin is obliterated, they will understand the error of their stubborn ideas on earth.  In their glorified state, they will no longer irritate me, or disgust me with their false sense of religiosity.

This morning, in the middle of a summer rain storm, the Son seems to shine brightly into my heart.  He seems to be calling me to look inside. He asks, “What shall we do with your bitterness? Should we wait for heaven, when there will be no sin? Would you like to enjoy a little heaven on earth now? It is possible to walk in peace with that one. You can forgive even now before you step on the Crayola sunshine yellow streets.”

Maybe, when I choose to move on, I discover that the “one day” becomes “today” and the one who walks in the glorified state is me. All this time, I thought they needed the changing, and instead it was me.

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