Dec. 16, 2011
I think our typical pictures of heaven are pretty ethereal. No one with any understanding of the Bible believes we float around on clouds, strumming golden harps. But we do lean toward an urban understanding. Pearly gates, streets of gold, and mansions dominate our view. All of these are certainly scriptural ideas, but what about the opportunities to see our Jesus face to face? What about heaven being our home?
The homiest picture of heaven usually offered is a giant buffet table. Again, the marriage supper of the Lamb is promised by Scripture. But just how long is that table? Where will our Host be sitting? Can I see Him? Will He be able to pass me the salt without it going through millions of other hands?
The other home images of heaven involve meeting our loved ones. Indeed, by the promises of Scripture, I can joyfully look forward to holding my baby again, and seeing my wife’s Grandpa and other mentors from my life. We can apparently share personal memories and other meaningful moments. I can get all warm inside just thinking about that reunion. But isn’t Jesus the center and focus of heaven?
The first sermon I wrote, nearly 20 years ago now, was based on Rev. 7 and Rev. 21. Speaking of those rescued from the ravages of living on planet earth, the elder speaking with John promises, “they are before the throne of God and serve him day and night in His temple; and He who sits on the throne will spread his tent over them. Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst. The sun will not beat upon them, nor any scorching heat. For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; He will lead them to springs of living water. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”
In the latter passage, a “loud voice from the throne” (surely Jesus’ own voice) proclaims: “Now the dwelling of God is with men, and He will live with them. They will be His people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”
My sermon was about the very personal touch of Jesus. I wondered aloud what would cause us to cry in heaven. I suggested several possibilities, but concluded with this tender image of Jesus Himself reaching out with scarred hands and wiping my tears away. While that close, surely our eyes would lock, and I could enjoy that moment of face to face with my Savior. The relationship I had struggled with finding and maintaining on earth would be perfected. What I had longed for while breathing oxygen would finally be fulfilled.
But then what? Until a couple of months ago, my vulnerable moment with Jesus highlighted my first seconds in heaven. And then it ended. My thoughts shifted by default to the urban view. I supposed I would be off to my mansion, and Jesus would return to His throne. Heaven is all about worship though, so I guess I would take my seat somewhere high in the bleachers for the next worship service.
There is another promise in Revelation I missed. Rev. 2:17 – “To him who overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.”
The white stone is thought by many scholars to be a ticket. Specially inscribed stones served this function in ancient times. The detail that jumped out at me was the “new name.” Those who overcome, those who have received the victory Jesus won, will receive a white stone with a new name written on it. Who gives this name? The same One who gives the stone.
Think of it: the same God who named every star, who knows every sparrow, and who has a running count of the hairs on your head, has a new name for you. For you. James Robert Reynolds is a name I am proud to carry because my parents named me. Based on their history together, my name was chosen. Spiritually speaking, child of God, heir with Christ, and Beloved are names I am honored and privileged to bear. All these, however, are common names. Somewhere on the planet is another James Robert Reynolds. All who have called on the name of the Lord are His beloved children. According to the promise of Revelation, God has a new name, unique to me. I will only learn it when we are face to face.
Incredibly, the rest of the promise reveals only God and I will know my new name. How much more personal can this relationship be? I was at church not too long ago, standing among a group of ladies, chatting about the worship service. Another woman walked up with a cell phone, and somewhat sheepishly said, “Uh… does this belong to any of you? Because, uh, Schmugge is calling.” One lady’s face lit up with recognition, then embarrassment. “That’s my husband. Uh, Schmuggee.” Then she took the phone and moved away so her and Schmuggee could speak in private.
Now, the only reason I’m telling you her story is I’m not telling you the pet names Deanna and I have given one another over the years. I won’t tell you what nicknames my friends gave me. It’s a secret, personal knowledge, based on our unique relationship and experiences with one another. Those relationships are what I carry with me, no matter where I am, who I’m with, and what I’m doing. Those names I also carry.
This stone with the new name, given to me by my Jesus, has given me a new, much more personal view of heaven. Even if Jesus has to pass the salt from way up the table somewhere, only He and I will know He is passing it to ____________.
I had to leave that blank, because obviously, I don’t know my new name yet. But He already does. He will share it with me when I see Him.
I hope it’s not Schmuggee.
Walk WITH Jesus,
Jim