Heaven by Randy Alcorn
As recently as just hours ago at the time of this writing, I was reminded of some of the greatest wisdom I have received in my lifetime:
Life’s Hard. Then, you die.
It seems morbid, I admit. But it rings quite true, even for citizens of a first-world, free country.
We strive until it feels we do nothing else. A chasing after the wind. Disengaged from the thought of any Afterlife, cognizant only of Heaven’s distractions.
If anything else, we never bore.
This post about Heaven was next in line already, but a Bible study on the book of Hebrews propelled its publishing.
“Let us therefore strive to enter that rest, so that no one may fall by the same sort of disobedience.” – Hebrews 4:11
Oh, I strive. But my endeavors are worldly, and I find myself longing for His rest. Whether my interpretation of the context is accurate or not is not the focus; rather that this concoction of reflection reminded me of this book. A book with a simple premise, but one so often overlooked that even Christians claim there is no way to fully grasp the Eternity in which we believe.
Alcorn says, however, that we most certainly can grasp and imagine it, and by God, I’m convinced.
While five hundred pages were, I found, a bit excessive, the book’s layout is worthy of an attempt, if for no other reason than to seek an answer to a specific question. There is no presence of scripture manipulation or lack of evidence to support claims. Alcorn does a fine job of stipulating the Word from his own.
In order to push the message across, I have to break a rule of mine by delivering Alcorn’s main point, though indirectly, if possible.
I’m looking at my neighbor’s sweetgum tree. It’s big. It’s old. It’s dying. Neighbor wants to cut it down, but I don’t want him to. Say what you will about a grown man enjoying trees and birds and clouds. I don’t care. The tree is beautiful, and I want it to stay. Of course, a dying tree of this size is still of dangerous weight. I get it. Maybe it needs to come down.
Whether its time has come or not doesn’t matter. We know for sure that its time will come. When all that remains will be the decay of stump and roots. Decay and death. It comes for us all.
When the time comes for the New Earth, will the thought of this sweetgum fill my eternal memory? Will I say to my friends, “Let me tell you about this tree I once knew”?
On the contrary, I expect the redeemed tree, in its new found glory, the greatest it has ever been, to shade me as I sit and read, praise, create, or ponder. Only this time I will do so without an ounce of anxiety. No concern for the future. No fear of my life outlasting my savings account.
I am convinced, and I would like for you to share in my convincing. Read it.