PrintThe itinerant evangelist had preached with passion about heaven and hell. As he began his appeal for people to respond, he asked the question, "Who wants to go to heaven?" Predictably everyone in the Church that night raised their hand. Everyone, that is, except a young boy sitting with his parents in the front row. The preacher noted his lack of response and said to the little lad, "Sonny, don't you want to go to heaven when you die?" The youngster replied, "Oh, when I die! I thought you were getting up a bus load to go right now!"
I find that little story both amusing yet personally disturbing. It's amusing in a cute way. It's disturbing because I'm just like that boy. I want to go to heaven when I die but I'm not willing, ready or prepared to go right now. As I reflect on this confession, the words of the Apostle Paul come to mind:
"For to me, living is for Christ, and dying is even better. Yet if I live, that means fruitful service for Christ. I really don't know which is better. I'm torn between two desires: Sometimes I want to live, and sometimes I long to go and be with Christ. That would be far better for me, but it is better for you that I live". (Phil 1:20-24 NLT)
"I'm torn between two desires...."No, I'm not! Perhaps I should be - like the Apostle. Heaven knows, enough preachers have told me that this should be the default position of genuine Christians. Paul is held up as the desired example of our approach to our death event.
Maybe I feel this way because I don't want to leave my family? Then again, could it be that I still feel that I have unfinished work to be done? How do I really feel about death and dying? What do I really believe about the journey through the valley of the shadow of death? Could the fact that I'm now into my 70th year also be a factor?
I am certainly aware that the limitations that come with the ageing process make one more aware of decreasing energy. Ten years ago, just before I was diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease, I had been enjoying a life of near perfect health. I recall very clearly leaving the rooms of the neurologist with that diagnosis ringing in my ears. It wasn't a death sentence but it powerfully brought home to me like never before the fact that I really am mortal.
Four years later a heart attack reinforced that awareness. Another four years along life's path and the removal of a kidney with a tumour on it further confronted me with the mortality of my body.
With such life experiences , I would have thought that I have had plenty of reminders and opportunities to get ready to "go home". Perhaps I have been too busy "down here" to give any time and attention to prepare for "up there".
Whatever be the answers to my questions, I acknowledge that the pull of this earthly life in all its relational components is stronger than any desire or willingness to "go home".
Actually, that reminds me about Rev. David Watson and his battle with liver cancer.
More about that in my next entry.
