East of Eden
For people who believe in heaven, we Christians sure don't talk about it much.
I'm starting to wonder if we even care about heaven at all. Think about it. When was the last time you made a decision based on the reality that in an unknown number of years, the universe as we know it will be made into something new? I personally can't remember the last time I factored my beliefs about heaven into my daily life.
Except maybe to comfort someone grieving death, we seem to think the afterlife isn't relevant to us now.
At least, that's true for me.
But in the past few months my convictions about heaven have shifted, because I've been thinking a lot about what exactly the Bible says about it. I don't get credit for this, because it's all Cory's doing -- he just had to go and actually read the Bible and actually preach on what it says. :) And what it says is not what we think it says.
This idea of an actual place called heaven is a new one. It's not found in the Jewish faith, and arguably not in early Christian faith either. I haven't studied enough on my own yet to go into detail, but there are a lot of really good reasons to start thinking of the Biblical idea of "heaven" as a future state of things, not a place. Think Revelation 21:1-4. Think God coming to us. Think new Jerusalem coming down to replace old Jerusalem. Think the end of separation from God.
And I'm not really sure if there's a reason to believe in a place called heaven at all. When I was driving down the interstate tonight, I was trying to decide whether or not it was heresy to say that. I couldn't decide.
But I don't think heaven is a place in the sky, and I don't think we are going to be separated from our bodies. It seems to me like the story of the Bible points to the END being like the BEGINNING, only better and with more glory. The Garden of Eden in Genesis and the New Jerusalem in Revelation have one very important thing in common: the presence and communion of God with his people. I love comparing and contrasting these two images, because the bookends of Scripture are bookends for a reason -- they show the reason for the middle. Eden was heaven. And we separated ourselves from God, and he set angels to guard the gates so we could no longer enter heaven through that way. And that flaming sword at the eastern gate of Eden forced humanity down a path that would end up -- where? To death and eternal separation? It was going that way for a while, or seemed like it to us, until a man named Jesus was born. And because of Jesus, because of that brief separation of the Trinity, we never have to know separation again.
And in the end, in that final scene of Revelation, I think God is showing us we're going back to Eden.
Revelation 22:1-5
Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. And night will be no more. They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever.
If there's one thing we all remember about the story of the Garden of Eden, it's that the tree of life was there. And that's what Genesis says the cherubim were guarding the way to when Adam and Eve went east. And that's what we'll see in the New City.
We couldn't go back through the garden to the tree of life; we had to go through the middle. But we're still gonna end back up in the presence of God and the Lamb, only this time with more glory (go read it). For some reason a redeemed, storied, aged, restored humanity is more beautiful to YHWH than one that never fell in the first place. And I trust that one day, when we dwell with our Savior in a city with no nighttime and no tears, we will understand why.
So when I say I don't think heaven is a place, I really mean it's not a place in the way that we teach kids in Sunday School. The Bible describes a place, yes, but it's definitely not that typical "place we go when we die," or some sort of hovering spacecraft world outside our galaxy like I used to picture it. It's just a recreated sky and land, a glorified place like our glorified bodies that will dwell there, like the one Jesus walked around in after he rose from the grave. When I read the Bible, that's what I read. And I have every expectation of being wrong, of one day meeting Christ face to face and realizing I had it all wrong, but I just know it's my job to read the Bible and try to let it say what it says.
But back to that Revelation 22:1-5 passage again. "No longer will there be anything accursed..." Accursed? Before yesterday that word in that context would fly right over my head, but I read something really cool that I thought tied into my recent heaven kick.
"The Hebrew word for curse, haram, means to seclude from society." - Tom Doyle, Two Nations Under God
He was using this in a discussion of God's covenant with Israel and His promise to "curse those who curse you" -- to disown those who disowned Israel. But it hit me for a different reason. "Curse" to the Jews actually meant seclusion from society?! In their culture, to be isolated was the worst thing possible. To be alive was to be in connection with your community, to be filling your hole in the wall, to be faithfully active in the clockwork of humanity as a whole. Even today Jews live and practice their faith this way, more so than Christians I think...but I digress.
And if curse to them meant seclusion, blessing meant inclusion. If to be accursed was to be in separation, blessed was to be in connection. If curses meant a fallen earth with no physical presence of God, the absence of curses meant heaven.
And that's what Revelation 22 says.
There's a big yellow house at Sevier Park on 12th Ave South, a big historic home. It's set up on a hill, surrounded by green grass and children playing on the swings down below, under the trees. It's picture perfect, inviting, southern plantation style. But if you walk up close, past the plaque of historical information, you might notice there are red bars on the perfect shuttered windows. The red bars keep people from breaking the glass, of course, but they mar the quaintness a little. And today when I was walking in Sevier Park those red bars made me homesick for Eden, for a world in which there is no threat of vandalism, for a New Jerusalem where big yellow plantations can just be beautiful and enjoyed without fear. That's what heaven looks like in my head today, and I'm determining to let it remain so. Not literal, not geographical, but instead a fuzzy image of betterment, of perfection, of the presence of my God. One day we'll see the picture clearly, but for now it's just a foggy reflection. And there's nothing wrong with that.
I'm starting to wonder if we even care about heaven at all. Think about it. When was the last time you made a decision based on the reality that in an unknown number of years, the universe as we know it will be made into something new? I personally can't remember the last time I factored my beliefs about heaven into my daily life.
Except maybe to comfort someone grieving death, we seem to think the afterlife isn't relevant to us now.
At least, that's true for me.
But in the past few months my convictions about heaven have shifted, because I've been thinking a lot about what exactly the Bible says about it. I don't get credit for this, because it's all Cory's doing -- he just had to go and actually read the Bible and actually preach on what it says. :) And what it says is not what we think it says.
This idea of an actual place called heaven is a new one. It's not found in the Jewish faith, and arguably not in early Christian faith either. I haven't studied enough on my own yet to go into detail, but there are a lot of really good reasons to start thinking of the Biblical idea of "heaven" as a future state of things, not a place. Think Revelation 21:1-4. Think God coming to us. Think new Jerusalem coming down to replace old Jerusalem. Think the end of separation from God.
And I'm not really sure if there's a reason to believe in a place called heaven at all. When I was driving down the interstate tonight, I was trying to decide whether or not it was heresy to say that. I couldn't decide.
But I don't think heaven is a place in the sky, and I don't think we are going to be separated from our bodies. It seems to me like the story of the Bible points to the END being like the BEGINNING, only better and with more glory. The Garden of Eden in Genesis and the New Jerusalem in Revelation have one very important thing in common: the presence and communion of God with his people. I love comparing and contrasting these two images, because the bookends of Scripture are bookends for a reason -- they show the reason for the middle. Eden was heaven. And we separated ourselves from God, and he set angels to guard the gates so we could no longer enter heaven through that way. And that flaming sword at the eastern gate of Eden forced humanity down a path that would end up -- where? To death and eternal separation? It was going that way for a while, or seemed like it to us, until a man named Jesus was born. And because of Jesus, because of that brief separation of the Trinity, we never have to know separation again.
And in the end, in that final scene of Revelation, I think God is showing us we're going back to Eden.
Revelation 22:1-5
Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb through the middle of the street of the city; also, on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be anything accursed, but the throne of God and of the Lamb will be in it, and his servants will worship him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. And night will be no more. They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever.
If there's one thing we all remember about the story of the Garden of Eden, it's that the tree of life was there. And that's what Genesis says the cherubim were guarding the way to when Adam and Eve went east. And that's what we'll see in the New City.
We couldn't go back through the garden to the tree of life; we had to go through the middle. But we're still gonna end back up in the presence of God and the Lamb, only this time with more glory (go read it). For some reason a redeemed, storied, aged, restored humanity is more beautiful to YHWH than one that never fell in the first place. And I trust that one day, when we dwell with our Savior in a city with no nighttime and no tears, we will understand why.
So when I say I don't think heaven is a place, I really mean it's not a place in the way that we teach kids in Sunday School. The Bible describes a place, yes, but it's definitely not that typical "place we go when we die," or some sort of hovering spacecraft world outside our galaxy like I used to picture it. It's just a recreated sky and land, a glorified place like our glorified bodies that will dwell there, like the one Jesus walked around in after he rose from the grave. When I read the Bible, that's what I read. And I have every expectation of being wrong, of one day meeting Christ face to face and realizing I had it all wrong, but I just know it's my job to read the Bible and try to let it say what it says.
But back to that Revelation 22:1-5 passage again. "No longer will there be anything accursed..." Accursed? Before yesterday that word in that context would fly right over my head, but I read something really cool that I thought tied into my recent heaven kick.
"The Hebrew word for curse, haram, means to seclude from society." - Tom Doyle, Two Nations Under God
He was using this in a discussion of God's covenant with Israel and His promise to "curse those who curse you" -- to disown those who disowned Israel. But it hit me for a different reason. "Curse" to the Jews actually meant seclusion from society?! In their culture, to be isolated was the worst thing possible. To be alive was to be in connection with your community, to be filling your hole in the wall, to be faithfully active in the clockwork of humanity as a whole. Even today Jews live and practice their faith this way, more so than Christians I think...but I digress.
And if curse to them meant seclusion, blessing meant inclusion. If to be accursed was to be in separation, blessed was to be in connection. If curses meant a fallen earth with no physical presence of God, the absence of curses meant heaven.
And that's what Revelation 22 says.
There's a big yellow house at Sevier Park on 12th Ave South, a big historic home. It's set up on a hill, surrounded by green grass and children playing on the swings down below, under the trees. It's picture perfect, inviting, southern plantation style. But if you walk up close, past the plaque of historical information, you might notice there are red bars on the perfect shuttered windows. The red bars keep people from breaking the glass, of course, but they mar the quaintness a little. And today when I was walking in Sevier Park those red bars made me homesick for Eden, for a world in which there is no threat of vandalism, for a New Jerusalem where big yellow plantations can just be beautiful and enjoyed without fear. That's what heaven looks like in my head today, and I'm determining to let it remain so. Not literal, not geographical, but instead a fuzzy image of betterment, of perfection, of the presence of my God. One day we'll see the picture clearly, but for now it's just a foggy reflection. And there's nothing wrong with that.
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