Twelve Years: High Expectations of Heaven

“Under-promise and over-deliver.”  With the guidance of mentors, I have tried to implement this business proverb into my law practice.  But what of those who don’t seem to mind over-promising?  Are we willing to rely upon their boasts?  When it comes to faith, are we willing to take a chance on God, even though many of us have been abused by the unmet promises of salesman whose follow-up mantra is, “buyer beware,” and “all sales final.” 

Today, July 27^th, marks the 12^th anniversary of the death of our oldest son Micah.  As we mark yet another year without him, a friend and fellow grieving dad and I recently contemplated how we would interact with our deceased sons once we see them again in heaven.  Specially, how will they appear to us?  Will our sons appear the age of when they died on earth, or the age that they would be now, on earth, if they had not died?  More generally, will we even recognize our son?  What information will they already have, and what will we need to catch them up on?

I have low expectations for the coffee I (rarely) buy at a gas station.  I try to keep my expectations reasonable when it comes to my kids’ behavior, school and sport performance.  I am a relatively easy-to-please consumer.  The “cost” to me of these expectations is relatively low, because I did not give up much in return.  I have not staked my life satisfaction on these expectations.  But when it comes to my expectations for the results of significant suffering, such as the death of my son, I have extremely high expectations.

God makes audacious claims for those who stick it out in faithfulness to him and remain faithful to the end.  God has promised an eternity to us, his faithful children, that is currently uncontemplated for even the most imaginative of human minds.  In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul writes, “No eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him.”   1 Corinthians 2:9. 

In Revelation 21:3-6, we read about Jesus’ bold, unmatched claims, claims that will either lead to us being the most pitiable of all mean for trusting in His promises, or be met in unspeakable glory for their grand fulfillment.  “And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man.  He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself with be with them as their God.  He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.  And he who was seated on the throne said, Behold, I am making all things new….to the thirsty I will give from the spring of the water of life without payment. ”

In Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s novel, Brothers Karamazov, the main character Ivan Karamazov, attempts to make sense of suffering.  About the end result of our suffering, we says, “I believe like a child that suffering will be healed and made up for, that all the humiliating absurdity of human contradictions will vanish like a pitiful mirage….that in the world’s finale, at the moment of eternal harmony, something so precious will come to pass that it will suffice for all hearts, for the comforting of all resentments, for the atonement of all the crimes of humanity, of all the blood that they’ve shed; that is will make it not only possible to forgive but to justify all that has happened.”

I expect that in the world’s finale we will not have a collective memory purge of our sufferings, but a full recognition of the meaning and purposes of our sufferings.  God’s “making all things new” will show us the meaning to our deepest sufferings, such deep and profound meaning that each and every one of us will be glad for how God worked through suffering.  We will see how God has so orchestrated all of human existence, between human relationships and events, across thousands and thousands of years, that our suffering will turn out for God’s glory and our good.

If I were to die now, I imagine a game of baseball catch with my 13-year old son.  We would play under the shade of the cherry tree we planted in Minneapolis the summer after he died, having full knowledge of the pain that his death caused us, but by reason of the demonstrated goodness of God, knowing that God’s redemptive purposes made the pain worthwhile.  While we have wept a thousand times for our Micah, we shall live ten thousand times ten thousand years together in eternity.     

And not just us, but all of us can live in high expectations of God’s redemptive purposes.  Each of us will say, about our individual and collective sufferings, “Yes, it was worth it all, in the end.” Our losses during a finite lifespan will ultimately be viewed like finite drops of water in an infinite ocean.  How much more significant are the relationships forged through the fire of affliction in contrast to a few years of life lived in relative ease.  I fully expect that God will over-deliver on His promises, even with such audacious claims.

Our Weakness As Godly Gain

 On this Easter, I have been reflecting on how the nature of our “topsy-turvey,” upside-down, inside-out, role-reversed faith.  At Easter, we revel in the fact that we are not saved by our own good acts, the length of our lives, or the wealth we accumulate or give away.  Instead, we stand in complete and utter dependence on Jesus’ physical death and physical resurrection more than 2,000 years ago.  Our hope is inextricably tied to the power of the Resurrection of Jesus. 

In 1 Corinthians 1:27, Paul writes,

“God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, even things that are not, to bring to nothing things that are, so that no human being might boast in the presence of God.  And because of him who are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption, so that, as it is written, “Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.”

Many of us who lost children in infancy or youth struggle with understanding God’s purposes and the child’s ongoing legacy.  So many of us wanted a different legacy for our children.  But the great role reversal of the Christian faith is that we have every assurance that the eternal destiny and legacy of those who are saved by Christ is secure by reason of Jesus’ work for us.  Jesus is my wisdom, my righteousness, my redemption, just as Jesus is Micah’s wisdom, righteousness, and redemption. 

To the degree that we can “boast,” or take pride in, our own achievements, we have the tendency to focus our thoughts and efforts on those tasks.  But if we are weak in the eyes of the world – if we are sick, sad, stupid, disheveled, and poor--we remove some of our natural inclinations towards making much of ourselves.  When you feel week in the eyes of the world, how does that magnify God?  To the degree that we spend little to no focus on our own merits and efforts to merit attention, we magnify God’s good name.  In some sense, then, I must align my own legacy in humility to be the same as my first born and now deceased son Micah’s legacy.   On this Easter, we do well to align our true subjective hope with the objective reality of the Resurrected and Risen Lord.