Be careful how you walk, not as unwise men but as wise, making the most of your time, because the days are evil.
Ephesians 5:15–16
When I began this book many months ago, I was preparing to take an international trip to London. I told you about the list of things I needed to do to prepare for a journey to a distant, unfamiliar country—comparing my trip to that journey every Christian will take one day to that “place called heaven.”
My trip ended up being uneventful—except for one mistake: I forgot to pack extra socks. By the third day of the trip I broke down and bought several pair at a nearby department store. I knew it was time to do so when my original pair was standing—instead of lying—at the foot of my bed! My oversight was inconvenient (and perhaps uncomfortable for my family members standing downwind from me the first few days), but there was no lasting damage from my lack of preparation.
However, failing to make adequate preparation for our inevitable departure from this life to the next life can have devastating and unending consequences. That is why I want to provide you with a “checklist” of six practical action steps you can take right now to prepare for your journey to heaven.
1. Make Sure You Have a Valid Passport
Making arrangements for your trip to heaven begins with making sure you have the proper “passport” that will allow you into the presence of God. I learned about the importance of passports a number of years ago. When I was a youth minister at the church I now pastor we took our student choir to the Soviet Union. It was during the Cold War and the atmosphere was so oppressive that we couldn’t wait to get out of there. Our flight was scheduled to depart at midnight. I watched as our students went through passport control one by one, with obvious expressions of relief on their faces as they passed from bondage to freedom. As the leader, I waited until everyone else was on the other side to pass through myself. I reached inside my coat pocket for my passport—and it was missing.
Panicked, I frantically searched everywhere for the missing document with no success. I explained to the Soviet agent my predicament and that I had to pass through because I was the leader of the group. Trust me, he could not have cared less! No passport, no exit. My wife of exactly one year was standing on the other side crying, imagining her new husband imprisoned in a Russian gulag for the next twenty years!
After watching me sweat for a few minutes, a “friend” of mine appeared waving my passport, which he had taken as a joke. I can assure you that after forty years my wife still doesn’t think it’s funny. I will never forget the relief I felt as I finally settled in my seat on the plane and winged my way to freedom.
The absolute panic I felt that night more than three decades ago pales in comparison to the terror that will grip the hearts of those who will be denied entrance into heaven because they lack the proper “passport.” As they stand at heaven’s entrance expecting to be welcomed into God’s presence, they will instead hear these words: “I never knew you; depart from Me” (Matt. 7:23).
The people who will be turned away from heaven’s gate will not only be atheists and devil worshipers. They will include religious people who consider themselves Christ-followers because of the many good works they performed in the name of Jesus. In fact, they will use their righteous acts as an argument for why they should be allowed into God’s presence:
Many will say to me on that day, “Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in Your name, and in Your name cast out demons, and in Your name perform many miracles?” (v. 22)
But God will be as unmoved by their pleas as the Soviet guard was by mine. No passport, no entry into heaven.
The only “document” that allows us entry into God’s presence for eternity is one that is stamped “Forgiven,” and it is given to us the moment we trust in Jesus Christ for our salvation. The theological term for forgiven is justified, which means, “to be declared righteous.” Our justification before God is not based on our works but on His grace and is received by faith:
Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. (Rom. 5:1)
As we saw in chapter 9, faith in Christ is not just one way to heaven—it is the only way to heaven.
I realize that to claim Christ as the exclusive way to heaven isn’t popular in a world that worships inclusiveness. Many, like billionaire Warren Buffet, believe they can earn their way—or buy their way—into heaven. In 2006, Buffet—the second richest man in the world—announced he was donating 85 percent of his $44 billion fortune to five charitable foundations. “There is more than one way to get to heaven,” Buffet declared, “but this is a great way.”1 I commend Buffet on his generosity, but if he persists in believing he can donate his way to salvation, he’s in for a rude awakening someday.
How sure are you that at the moment of your death God will welcome you into His presence? Years ago the now-defunct Northwest Airlines offered a promotional gimmick called “The Mystery Fare.” For $59 you could purchase a round-trip ticket for a one-day excursion to any city in the continental United States. There was only one catch: you didn’t find out where you were heading until you arrived at the airport on the day of the flight. The gimmick worked . . . for a while. Northwest had thousands of customers willing to invest a few bucks and a couple of days to take a chance that they’d end up somewhere exciting, like New York City, Chicago, or Las Vegas.
However, not all customers were happy once they learned of their destinations. One man, who was hoping for a trip to New Orleans, ended up with a ticket to an out-of-the-way city. He walked through the airport terminal bargaining with other “mystery fare” flyers, trying to trade his ticket for another city.
Mystery fares might be a fun chance to take for a one-day adventure, but there is one day in your life you never want to be holding a “mystery fare” ticket: the day of your death. To face eternity without knowing whether you are heading to heaven or hell is a risk no sane person would take. If you wait until the moment you die to discover whether your eternal destination is heaven, you will have waited one second too long. God doesn’t want your eternal destiny to be a mystery. That is why the apostle John wrote:
God has given us eternal life, and this life is in His Son. He who has the Son has life; he who does not have the Son of God does not have life. These things I have written to you who believe in the name of the Son of God, so that you may know that you have eternal life. (1 John 5:11–13)
If you do not “know that you have eternal life,” why not pause right now and confess to God your need for His forgiveness and express your dependence on Christ’s death on the cross for you to save you from the eternal consequences of your sins? When you do that, you can be sure that you have made the most basic preparation necessary for your journey to heaven.
But while that decision is foundational, it is not the only thing you should do to prepare for your journey.
2. Live with a “Destination Mindset”
Trying to live in two places at the same time can be difficult, but it is what every Christian has been called to do—temporarily. Since we don’t know when we will suddenly be called away to that “place called heaven,” we have to learn how to fulfill our responsibilities in this world while preparing for the next world. Although we are still residents of earth, our “true country” is heaven, as Paul reminded the Philippians: “We are citizens of heaven, where the Lord Jesus Christ lives. And we are eagerly waiting for him to return as our Savior” (Phil. 3:20 NLT). Yet God has charged each of us with responsibilities in this world that involve our work, our families, and especially our ministry for Him as “ambassadors for Christ” (2 Cor. 5:20).
God has called each of us to live with a “here/there” mindset. While living and working here on earth, we are busily preparing for our lives “there” in heaven. Admittedly, it’s challenging to live in one location while preparing to live in another place, but it can also be motivating.
I remember when Amy and I were called to the pastorate of my first church in Eastland, Texas, more than thirty years ago. I was serving as a youth minister (at the church I now pastor) but had dreamed of the time I would shepherd my own church. I will never forget that weekend in June 1985 when Amy and I traveled to that small West Texas congregation to “preach in view of a call.” After my trial sermon, they ushered us into a small room and fed us pie while the congregation deliberated, debated, and voted. I will never forget the exhilaration I felt when we learned they had voted to call me as their pastor. We could barely sleep that night in our little motel room as we contemplated the adventure before us.
However, the next morning reality set in. We had to drive back to Dallas and spend the next month wrapping up our ministry there. For that month I tried to concentrate on doing the best job I could in Dallas, but my heart was already at my new church ninety miles away. The bulk of my time during that month was devoted to my current responsibilities in Dallas, but some of my energy was devoted to preparing for my new ministry in my new location. Yet I noticed something strange. During that final month in Dallas I had more motivation to work hard than I had experienced during the last seven years—mainly because I knew my time was limited and I wanted to leave things in good shape! Focusing on “there” (my new home in Eastland) profoundly impacted my life “here” (in Dallas).
In the same way, as Christians we have God-given assignments to complete during our brief stay on earth, even though we will soon be departing for our eternal home. Yet while we temporarily reside in this world, we are to guard against becoming entangled in it. Instead, we are to live as “strangers and exiles on the earth” (Heb. 11:13), as we “set [our minds] on the things above” (Col. 3:2).
The great Puritan preacher Jonathan Edwards lived his life with an eternal rather than temporal perspective. Since childhood, Edwards was taught “to think of his own dying, or to live as though he had only an hour left before his death or ‘before I should hear the last trump.’”2 Heaven was so real to Edwards that he wrote:
To go to heaven, fully to enjoy God, is infinitely better than the most pleasant accommodations here. . . . Therefore, it becomes us to spend this life only as a journey toward heaven . . . to which we should subordinate all other concerns of life. Why should we labor for or set our hearts on anything else, but that which is our proper end and true happiness?3
Because Edwards chose to live with eternity in mind, when he was nineteen years old he set forth seventy resolutions that guided his life as he prepared for heaven. Here are a few of them:
As we mentioned in chapter 1, the more seriously we take heaven, the more seriously we’ll take earth. Life is short—you don’t know when it will be your last day. To be a “heavenly minded” Christian means to live every day as if it were the last day before God calls you home—because someday it will be!
3. Refuse to Allow Death to Paralyze You with Fear
As the departure date for my trip to London approached a few months ago, I experienced a number of emotions: anticipation over visiting a city I had read about, excitement over spending quality time with my family, and urgency to complete my to-do list before I left. But one emotion I never felt was fear. Why should I be afraid of a trip I had planned for and looked forward to for months?
The same principle applies to our journey to heaven. Admittedly, some people—even Christians—are fearful of death. Winston Churchill, who faced death on many occasions during his storied career, feared death’s icy grip. He quipped, “Any man who says he is not afraid of death is a liar.”5 One reason Christians are fearful of death is that they are unaware of what awaits them on the other side of it (which is one of the primary reasons I wrote this book). But there are two reasons that Christians do not need to fear death.
First, if you are a Christian you can be assured that you will not depart this earth one second before God’s appointed time. That was certainly Paul’s conviction. While preaching to the Jews in the synagogue in Antioch, the apostle retraced the history of God’s dealing with Israel to prove that the resurrected Jesus was the Messiah. When Paul got to the history of King David, he said, “David, after he had served the purpose of God in his own generation, fell asleep, and was laid among his fathers and underwent decay” (Acts 13:36). David didn’t die until he had served God’s purpose during his time on earth. The same is true for us.
“But what about those who die prematurely, such as a teenager in a car accident or a young mother who leaves her small children behind?” you ask. From God’s perspective no one dies “prematurely.” The psalmist declared, “My times are in Your hand” (Ps. 31:15). God determines our days and numbers our years.
Peter said that Jesus’s death occurred according to “the predetermined plan and foreknowledge of God” (Acts 2:23). Just as the day of Jesus’s death was determined by God, so is yours. In Ephesians 1:11, Paul wrote that all things in our lives—including death—have been “predestined according to His purpose who works all things after the counsel of His will.” No death catches God off guard. He has everything under control. Those who die in faith—whether they are nine or ninety—lived exactly the number of years God prescribed for them. As one person notes, “Every person is immortal until his work on earth is done.”
But there is an even more foundational reason Christians don’t need to fear death: death is a necessary transition from this world to the next world. Let’s stay with our “passport” analogy a moment longer. Once the immigration official has stamped your passport, do you “fear” passing through that little gate that allows you entry into a new country? Of course not—in fact, it’s quite an exciting experience, especially if you’re leaving the tyranny of the Soviet Union for the freedom of America.
For a Christian, death is nothing more than a transition from an inferior country to a superior one. In fact, without experiencing death we could never travel to that “place called heaven.” Paul explains why in 1 Corinthians 15:50:
Now I say this, brethren, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God; nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable.
Suppose you were traveling from this world to Mars. While your body is perfectly suited for the earth’s atmosphere, it is totally unsuitable for the “red planet” (or any other planet). Similarly, our present body of “flesh and blood” is specifically designed for life in this world but could never function in the next world. That is why there must be a time when we are separated from our earthly body. As I’ve noted before, the word death comes from the Greek word thanatos, or “separation.” Death is a necessary separation from our earthly body so we can put on our new body.
Here’s another way of thinking about death. Imagine you were invited to a presidential inauguration ball like Amy and I once attended. Men, on the morning of the event would you object to exchanging your pajamas for a Brioni suit? Ladies, would you resist taking off your bathrobe and putting on a Chanel dress? I don’t think so! God has invited every Christian to a magnificent location for which we must be properly dressed, and He has provided the appropriate “wardrobe.” Death is nothing more than exchanging inferior clothing for superior clothing.
Randy Alcorn, in his book Heaven, employs yet another metaphor to describe death: a surprise party.6 Suppose a friend invites you to a party where you will know some people but not many. The food is adequate but nothing extraordinary. You enjoy meeting some new people and visiting with the few familiar people you know. Suddenly your friend announces it’s time to leave. Although you’re not quite ready to leave, you acquiesce because he’s your ride home.
When your friend drops you off at your house, you place your key in the lock and turn the knob. Just as you open the door the lights suddenly come on. “Surprise!” Your family and your closest friends are there. They’ve brought gifts and have covered your table with your favorite delicacies. The first party was simply a ruse to get you out of the house so that the second party could be organized. Had you stayed at the first party, you would have missed the real party—the one at your home.
Life on earth is like the first party—pleasant enough. But at death you open the doors to your true home and discover that the real party is taking place there.
I wish I could tell you that every Christian I know who learned he or she was terminally ill faced their death with great anticipation and no fear. But that wouldn’t be honest. Through the years, some believers I have talked with who were facing the end of their life expressed regret about “leaving the party too soon” even though they had great faith about their future home in heaven. They were sad over what they might be missing on earth.
However, the real party is already underway in heaven! Any sadness Christians feel over leaving this earth will be more than compensated for with the hilarity of heaven. I believe this is what Jesus had in mind when He promised, “Blessed [literally, “Happy”] are you who weep now, for you shall laugh” (Luke 6:21).
4. Make the Most of Your Time on Earth
Though Moses beat today’s average life span by forty or fifty years—dying at 120—his admonition about the value and brevity of life is worth heeding:
Seventy years are given us! And some may even live to eighty. But even the best of these years are often empty and filled with pain; soon they disappear, and we are gone. . . . Teach us to number our days and recognize how few they are; help us to spend them as we should. (Ps. 90:10, 12 TLB)
I’ll never forget the first time I heard someone speak on these verses. I was a freshman in college at Baylor University sitting in an orientation chapel, pining for my girlfriend (now my wife) who was one hundred miles away at the University of Texas. It would be two weeks until I saw her, and Moses’s observation about the brevity of time seemed profoundly untrue. Time moved like molasses back then! Yet, the older I get the more I understand what Moses was saying. As one wag put it, “Life is like a roll of toilet paper—the closer you get to the end, the more quickly it goes.”
The apostle Paul picked up and expanded on Moses’s idea of numbering our days and learning to live wisely:
Be careful how you walk, not as unwise men but as wise, making the most of your time, because the days are evil. (Eph. 5:15–16)
“Walking” in the Bible is a metaphor for living. And whatever consumes your time determines “how you walk”—the way you live. For example, try this simple exercise: make a list of your top three priorities in life. Then, over the next few days, track how much of your time you actually spend on these three priorities. Are you “walking”—spending your time—on those things you deem most important in your life? As one person has said, “Life is like a dollar. You can spend it any way you want, but you can only spend it once.”
Paul admonished us to live wisely by “making the most of [our] time” (v. 16). Literally, that phrase means to “buy up” the time. In other words, invest in life and take hold of it—seize the day, carpe diem. Philosopher Henry David Thoreau feared that when his death-day came he would “discover that [he] had not lived.” He wrote, “I did not wish to live what was not life. . . . I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life . . . to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close.”7 Simply put: don’t waste time—life is too short and precious for that.
Spending hours watching television, playing video games, or scrolling through Facebook and Twitter would have been unthinkable to Thoreau and Paul. For both men, life was too valuable a commodity to waste. Thoreau believed he could “buy up” life by secluding himself in the woods, “to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach.”8
Paul had a different motivation for “making the most of [the] time.” He saw “the days [as] evil” (v. 16). Make no mistake: Satan will do whatever it takes to prevent you from living a purposeful and God-honoring life. Satan will entice you to squander your time (and therefore your life) on worthless pursuits rather than your God-given priorities in life. I think the paraphrase by J. B. Phillips best captures what Paul had in mind about making the most of your brief time on earth:
Live life, then, with a due sense of responsibility, not as men who do not know the meaning and purpose of life but as those who do. Make the best use of your time, despite all the difficulties of these days. Don’t be vague but firmly grasp what you know to be the will of God. (Eph. 5:15–17)
5. Minimize Your “Predeparture” Regrets
Have you ever been at the departure gate at an airport about to board a plane when you think I should have remembered to stop the newspaper, or I wish I had remembered to pack a warmer coat? Such “predeparture” regrets are real, but they are also trivial compared to the deep regrets many people feel as they prepare to leave this world for the next one. In my position as a pastor, few things are more heartbreaking than to sit at the deathbed of someone consumed with regrets, hearing them weep over the things they wished they had said—or not said—to their loved ones or over the things they wished they had done or not done in life.
Nothing will steal your joy faster or devour your days more completely than regrets. Poet John Greenleaf Whittier captured this mournful emotion with these lines:
For all sad words of tongue or pen,
The saddest are these: “It might have been.”9
Working in a palliative care center, author Bronnie Ware heard many deathbed confessions, and was able to create a list of the top five regrets of the dying:
Regrets are like cancer. They eat away at your soul, consume your peace of mind, and are no way to spend your days preparing for heaven. My father was a successful man by any standard. He was a follower of Christ, held an important position in the airline industry, enjoyed an upper-middle-class income, traveled the world, was respected by colleagues and friends, and was loved by his family.
Yet during the months preceding his death from pancreatic cancer, I listened to him lament over the “what ifs” and “if onlys” of his life: trips he wished he had taken, career opportunities he didn’t maximize, words he should never have spoken, and relationships he didn’t fully appreciate. He even regretted not wearing new suits he had purchased for fear of “wearing them out.”
My dad’s final months on this earth were not altogether happy ones. Through his experience I learned that regrets have the power to extinguish the joy of an otherwise happy life. I also learned that in the end, someone else is either going to sell or give away your clothes—just as we did with my dad’s suits—so you might as well wear them today.
As you prepare for your journey to that “place called heaven,” one of the best resolutions you can make is to rid your life of any unnecessary regrets. One way to do this is to honestly evaluate your life. Take a sheet of paper and divide it into five columns: God, family, friends, career, and finances (it might look something like the chart below). Under each column write three goals you’d like to achieve in each of these life areas before you die.
| God | Family | Friends | Career | Finances |
If it helps, think back to Jonathan Edwards’s list and write your goals as resolutions. For example:
As you honestly evaluate your life, maybe you feel badly about mistakes you’ve made, opportunities you’ve squandered, or people you’ve hurt. The truth is that it is impossible to erase the past. Life has no rewind button. But with God’s help you can make some changes in your life right now that will reshape your tomorrow and your eternity. If you don’t believe that, consider the story of one Swedish philanthropist.
Alfred Nobel was a nineteenth-century chemist who made his reputation and fortune by stabilizing nitroglycerine. By adding a specific compound to the highly volatile liquid, Nobel was able to turn it into a paste, which he called “dynamite.” Intended for commercial construction—blasting mines, drilling tunnels, and building canals—dynamite was quickly adapted by governments into an instrument of war.
During his lifetime, Nobel was best known as the inventor of dynamite—and for the death and destruction it caused. In fact, when his brother Ludvig died in 1888, French newspapers confused Ludvig for Alfred and reported, “The merchant of death is dead.” This mistake meant that Alfred Nobel had the opportunity to read his own obituary in the newspaper.
Realizing that when he died he would only be remembered for enabling the killing of untold millions of people, Nobel decided right then to make a significant change in his life. He determined to dedicate the remainder of his life to scientific, artistic, and peaceful endeavors that celebrated humanity. He set aside a sizable sum of his vast wealth and established the Nobel prizes we’re familiar with today.
Few of us will achieve the fame and fortune of Alfred Nobel, but all of us can redirect our time, our money, and our energy to things that will allow us to live and die without regrets.
6. Take Care of the Practical Matters before You Depart
One last item to check off before departing on your heavenly journey: make sure those you leave behind will be adequately cared for. That’s what the prophet Isaiah told King Hezekiah: “Thus says the LORD, ‘Set your house in order, for you shall die’” (2 Kings 20:1). Good advice.
A friend of mine attended a seminar about the need to make adequate financial preparations for families in the event of the death of a husband or wife. My friend returned from the conference convicted that he needed to have a frank talk with his wife about what she should do if he preceded her in death. “Honey, I think you should plan to stay in the house since the mortgage is almost paid,” he said. She agreed. “And if you choose to remarry, that’s fine with me. In fact, I would have no problem with your new husband and you occupying our bedroom.” Again, no disagreement from his wife.
“And also, I would want him to feel free to use my golf clubs if he was as passionate about the game as I am,” he added. “Oh, no! That would never work!” my friend’s wife said. “Why not?” her husband wondered. “Because you’re right-handed and he’s left-handed!”
Funny story. But what isn’t humorous is a scenario I’ve seen played out far too many times: a spouse dies without ever discussing financial affairs, the location of his or her will or life insurance policies (if either exist), security passwords, funeral desires, or any other vital information with the surviving spouse or children. The result is that the family is completely in the dark about critical issues, leading them to waste energy and time that should be directed toward grieving and recovery.
I’ve said it before in this book and I’ll say it again: death is inevitable. You are going to die and leave your family behind. As popular speaker Tony Campolo notes, one day your family and friends will cart your casket to the cemetery, drop you in a hole, throw dirt on you, and go back to the church and eat potato salad. But what will your family do after the potato salad?
One thing you could do is follow the example of Jim Hindle, a Certified Financial Planner. A few years before his death, Jim wrote an article on how to leave your financial house in good order. Jim based his advice on 1 Timothy 5:8: “If anyone does not provide for his own, and especially for those of his household, he has denied the faith and is worse than an unbeliever.”
Besides having a will, Jim advised, families should create a notebook, listing assets and liabilities, checking and savings accounts, stocks, bonds, CDs, IRAs, pensions, real estate, life insurance policies, and annuities. The notebook should also include obituary information as well as contact information for an attorney, accountant, banker, and stockbroker.
A few days after Jim’s death, still reeling with the new reality of his passing, his wife, Audrey, went to see her attorney—Jim’s notebook in hand. “After looking at the book,” she writes, “he shook his head and said, ‘This is incredible.’” She concludes:
Jim demonstrated love, godly character, and integrity by leaving a part of himself in his book. I have never felt abandoned or insecure. My husband took good care of us in his life, and is still taking care of us in his death.11
Do that for your family. You won’t regret it . . . and neither will they.
The early death of both of my parents had a profound effect on my life. Both were strong believers who taught me not only how to live as a Christian but also how to die as a Christian. But their premature deaths (at least from my perspective) steeled my resolve to live without regrets and to die without regrets.
If I were to compose my own epitaph to be engraved on my headstone, I couldn’t come up with anything better than the one engraved on Abraham’s headstone: “[He] died in a ripe old age, an old man and satisfied with life; and he was gathered to his people” (Gen. 25:8). Abraham came to the end of his life without a long list of “if onlys” or “what ifs.” He was satisfied—contented—with his past. By faith in God’s grace he knew his past mistakes had been forgiven. He was satisfied, knowing that he had passed along his faith in God to his children and grandchildren. And he was at peace with the future—prepared for his journey to heaven where he would be “gathered to his people.”
Are you ready for your journey to heaven? If you are a Christian, you need not fear the journey—especially when you consider the destination. One of the most moving illustrations of the journey and destination that await every Christian was penned many years ago by John Todd. Born in Rutland, Vermont, in the autumn of 1800, John moved with his family to the tiny hamlet of Killingsworth. A few years later, young John was orphaned when his mother and father died. His siblings were parceled out to family members—and a kindhearted aunt agreed to take in six-year-old John.
John lived with his aunt for fifteen years, then in his early twenties he left to study for the ministry. As the years passed and John reached midlife, his aunt fell ill. Realizing death was close, she wrote to her nephew. She was frightened about the prospect of dying. Moved with compassion, John responded, recounting the night when he, a frightened little boy, was welcomed into the warm and loving home of his aunt:
It is now thirty-five years since I, a little boy of six, was left quite alone in the world. You sent me word you would give me a home and be a kind mother to me. I have never forgotten the day when I made the long journey of ten miles to your house in North Killingsworth. I can still recall my disappointment when, instead of coming for me yourself, you sent your colored man, Caesar, to fetch me. I well remember my tears and my anxiety as, perched high on your horse and clinging tight to Caesar, I rode off to my new home. Night fell before we finished the journey, and as it grew dark I became lonely and afraid.
“Do you think she’ll go to bed before I get there?” I asked Caesar anxiously. “O no,” he said reassuringly. “She’ll sure stay up FOR YOU. When we get out of these here woods you’ll see her candle shining in the window.” Presently we did ride out in the clearing and there, sure enough, was your candle. I remember you were waiting at the door, that you put your arms close about me and that you lifted me—a tired and bewildered little boy—down from that horse. You had a big fire burning on the hearth, a hot supper waiting for me on the stove. After supper, you took me to my new room, you heard me say my prayers and then you sat beside me until I fell asleep.
You probably realize why I am recalling all this to your memory. Someday soon, God will send for you, to take you to a new home. Don’t fear the summons—the strange journey—or the dark messenger of death. God can be trusted to do as much for you as you were kind enough to do for me so many years ago. At the end of the road you will find love and a welcome waiting, and you will be safe in God’s care.12
A Final Thought
Heaven is the destination that awaits all those who love the Lord Jesus Christ. And it is more glorious than mere words can begin to describe. Not long ago I attended a stage production of the classic musical The Sound of Music. The Rogers and Hammerstein score is timeless and the actors were superb. But when the curtain rose for the opening act, I had to keep myself from laughing out loud.
There was the young nun Maria singing and frolicking in front of a painted scrim depicting the Austrian Alps. A few months earlier I had been in the Alps visiting the actual locations where the movie was filmed. The disparity between those real majestic mountains and the artistic rendering on a piece of fabric was laughable.
I’ve thought about that disparity over the last six months as I have written this book. The words on these pages—or even the pages of Scripture itself—are only a pencil sketch of that very real location Jesus is preparing for you right now.
It’s a place more magnificent than you could ever imagine.
It’s a place where every heartache will be erased and every dream will be fulfilled.
It’s a place reserved for those who have received God’s forgiveness through faith in Christ.
It’s a place called heaven.