Recently I came across this advertisement for a well-known resort. Listen to the words: “We invite you to experience a weekend that will take pleasure to an entirely new level. Indulge in amazing food, the fines wines, unforgettable music, and exquisite art—all in a setting of unrivaled beauty and luxury. To reserve your place in heaven, call (the phone number).” Many of you grew up with some of the same notions of heaven as I did, or at least we heard the imagery: pearly gates, streets paved with gold, maybe even walls of emeralds and sapphires and jasper, great mansions in the sky. Unparalleled luxury.  

Most of this elegant imagery came out of lives of simplicity or poverty. They may not be as significant to middle class America. For many of us, affluence in this life has given us what others longed for. 

What is heaven like? You might be interested in some children’s answers to that question. One child said, “Heaven is where there is lots of money. I’m going to get some of that money and buy a basketball, and then I’m going to play basketball with my great-great-grandmother.” Another said, “Heaven is where you can watch the circus for free—but of course you have to ask God’s permission first.” And a third child said, “Heaven is where people sit around and play harps. I don’t know how to play a harp—but I guess one day I’ll have to learn to play that dumb thing.” 

What is heaven like? I read an article recently that said, “Clergy are reticent to talk about heaven. Heaven is treated as the theological equivalent of Timbuktu. You’ve heard the phrase, ‘From here to Timbuktu’?” The article suggested that for many of us, heaven is a term for a place foreign and far away. The same article suggested that there is a great yearning in the hearts of people to know more about heaven.[i] 

Therefore I want to address that issue on Easter Sunday 2005. What is heaven like? I want to use four simple words to describe heaven for you this morning.  

HEAVEN IS HOME 

First, heaven is home. Heaven is where you and I belong, where life begins and ends. I remember a camp song we used to sing at Jumonville called “Tramping.” The lines went like this: “I’m a trampin’, trampin’, tryin’ to make heaven my home.” 

Mark Ralls, a United Methodist pastor in North Carolina writes:

The desire for heaven is a kind of homesickness, a restlessness of soul that will remain unfulfilled until we are united with the One who created us…[ii] 

Sometimes people get home early—before they have time to live much of life, as in the death of a child or a teenager. Sometimes we get home at mid-life. We have a shortened life span. And sometimes it takes a while because of a lingering illness. 

A friend of mine has a mother-in-law in a hospice ministry in another state. She is now 90 years old and her body just won’t quit. He was visiting her one day. As he walked toward the exit of the hospital, he met the hospice chaplain. He told the chaplain about his mother-in-law. The chaplain listened and then she replied, “Sometimes it takes a long time to get home.”[iii] 

How true that is. Many of you have known that to be true for those whom you have loved. Terri Schiavo—much in the news this past week—has known that truth for 15 years. Sometimes it takes a long time to get home. 

I thought about this as I was driving home from the church the other day. It was one of those days when the traffic was fierce and there were lots of obstructions for various reasons. Sometimes I can get home in 10 or 12 minutes. Sometimes it takes 25 minutes. Sometimes it takes a long time to get home. 

But heaven is home. Heaven is our home. Heaven is your home and my home. And for all of us, heaven is a home someplace up ahead. 

The son of the novelist John Steinbeck tells of an experience where he encountered a family at a roadside coffee shop. The family arrived in a convoy of three pick-up trucks loaded with household goods. All three of the trucks had Oklahoma license plates. He was convinced they were a family in transition. 

He said to one boy in the family, “Your group looks like you’re from Oklahoma. Where are you bound?” 

The boy answered, “Oh, we’re not from Oklahoma any more. We’re from someplace up ahead.” 

Heaven is home—someplace up ahead. 

HEAVEN IS LIGHT 

Secondly, heaven is light. Every meaningful symbol of heaven I have ever seen or read suggests that heaven is light. There’s another song we used to sing at camp: “I’ve got a home in glory land that outshines the sun.” Note this song contains both the words “home” and “light” in the same sentence. Heaven is a place—or a time—or an event—that outshines the sun. The light is brighter than any light we’ve ever known. 

Fifteen years ago a small book was published under the title, Closer to the Light.[iv] The book chronicles the experiences of children who almost die—who have near-death experiences. Uniformly, the image is one of being drawn toward a bright light. 

C. S. Lewis writes about this in his wonderful little book, The Great Divorce. Lewis believed that heaven is an experience of intense, warm, enveloping light. He implies that some people can’t handle the light. They prefer darkness or fog or isolation or aloneness. They choose to return to a darker place. But heaven, says C. S. Lewis, is unmatched light. 

A now retired clergy colleague tells the story of a woman in his congregation named Elsie Saaf. Elsie had come to America from Sweden as a young woman in an arranged marriage. She had lived all of her years with the courage of faith. In her 87^th year she approached her last illness in the same way. She reached out for every healing possibility available. After it had all been tried, she faced death with courage. 

“I don’t know what’s out there,” she said one day. “But I’m sort of looking forward to seeing what it’s like.” The next day, with her family gathered around, Elsie asked me to say the 23^rd Psalm with her. We did it together. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.” 

Elsie sort of looked beyond all of us and said, “It’s all so beautiful.” Then she closed her eyes and died. Elsie had touched the hem of eternity.[v] 

Elsie Saaf caught a glimpse of the light. And she moved toward it. 

HEAVEN IS SURPRISE 

The third word is “surprise.” Heaven is surprise. I recently read this bit of wisdom: Heaven is where the cooks are French, the police are English, the mechanics are German, the lovers are Italian, and everything is organized by the Swiss. 

Hell, on the other hand, is where the English are the cooks, the Germans are the police, the French are the mechanics, the Swiss are the lovers, and everything is organized by the Italians. 

Heaven is surprise. You may recognize this anonymous poem. 

I dreamt death came the other night, and heaven’s gates

     swung wide.

An angel with a halo bright ushered me inside. 

And there to my astonishment stood folks I’d judged and

     labeled

As quite unfit, of little worth, and spiritually disabled. 

Indignant words rose to my lips, but never were set free,

For every face showed stunned surprise,

For no one expected ME!! 

Heaven is God’s surprise. I really believe that. Paul caught part of this in his statement where he said, “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him.” (see I Corinthians 2:9) 

Someone has described heaven as “an event of magnificent hopefulness.” I think I like that. Heaven is an event. Heaven is a surprising event. I’m not sure I can explain anything about it—but I think that’s correct. If you like a good surprise, you’ll love heaven. 

HEAVEN IS GOD 

The final truth and most important one is that heaven is God. Some of you have probably read Mitch Albom’s best-selling book, The Five People You Meet in Heaven. It’s a wonderful little book. The problem with it is that there is no significant mention of God anywhere in the book. The central character of heaven is missing. 

Someone shared an interesting statistic that said, “In America more people believe in heaven than believe in God. That may be true. 

One writer says, “There is more talk of heaven in novels, television shows, and pop songs than in sermons. Christians must shoulder some of the blame that visions of life beyond death fail to include God.”[vi] 

William Sloane Coffin is one of the greatest Christian prophets of our time. He is now in failing health, living in New England. He writes a memorable Easter affirmation in one of his books:

If death is no threat to our relationship to God, it should be no threat to anything. If we don’t know what is beyond the grave, we do know who is beyond the grave.[vii] 

In another interview with Bill Moyers, Bill Coffin was asked, “Do you ever think about what happens when we die?” His response was marvelous: “Not very much. It’s who’s there, not what’s there, that counts for me.”[viii] 

There is a wonderful story about a man in a doctor’s examination room. The man was in very poor health. After the doctor finished the examination the man said, “Doctor, I’m afraid to die. Tell me what lies on the other side.” Very quietly the doctor said, “I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know? You’re a Christian, and you don’t know?” 

Holding the handle of the door, the doctor heard some scratching and whining on the other side. As he opened the door a dog sprang into the room and greeted the doctor with an eager show of gladness. Turning to the patient, the doctor said, “Did you notice my dog? He’s never been in this room before. He knew nothing except that his master was here, and when the door opened he sprang into the room without fear. I know little of what is on the other side of death. But I do know one thing: I know my Master is there, and that is enough.” 

This Easter Day we celebrate heaven. I can tell you at least this much: heaven is HOME; heaven is LIGHT; heaven is SURPRISE; and heaven is GOD. And I think that’s all I need to know. 

Paul writes in I Corinthians 15, “Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 

Some of you know that my mother died one year ago this month in 2004. Her personal wishes upon death were the same as those of my father, who had died 25 years earlier. She wished to be cremated and have her ashes scattered. No burial plot, no marked grave. The husband of my mother’s late sister asked if we, her children, would purchase a marker for the churchyard in the small town where my mother grew up in western Tennessee. My sisters and I talked about it and decided to honor his request. There was no grave there, just a marker. 

On the marker are the names of my parents, the year of birth, and the year of death. And then down below is this inscription: “Thanks be to God who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.” 

Thanks be to God, who gives us heaven through our Lord Jesus Christ.