Glimpsing Heaven in a Purse

So, yesterday, I was at work, where we keep our stuff in little lockers during our shift.  The lockers aren't assigned, and so I often forget where I stashed my stuff, and have to go looking.

This happened yesterday, and when the first locker I opened was empty, I had a strange reaction.  Instead of temporarily worrying that my precious stuff had been stolen from me, when I saw that empty locker, I felt this quick and temporary--but very real--sense of relief.  I was relieved that there was nothing there that I needed to take with me.

Yes, the moral of the story could have been that I need to stop carrying around so much crap, but, in typical fashion, I thought deeper about the issue.  And in typical fashion, this blog post will go beyond the surface of the story.

As I tried the locker below and found my Pride and Prejudice purse, teal umbrella, and black fleece jacket inside, I reflected on the reaction of relief I had just had upon finding the empty locker.  Lately, I've been feeling a new sense of disillusionment with what this world has to offer.  And it struck me that this empty locker was giving me a mini sneak peak of how life is meant to be.  And I sensed that same old inexplicable ache inside me for the home that I've never seen.

I made a mental inventory of the things in my purse, and saw that each object pointed towards life restored.  I remember reading something in a C.S. Lewis book about how, here on earth, we do better to try and understand heaven by thinking about what it is not, than about what it might be.

So, rifling through my purse now, as I write this blog post, here's what I am thinking about:

My Wallet: In heaven, I will not need money because God will fill all of our needs freely, and we will probably all be so generous and unselfish that we will want for nothing.

My Lipstick/Lip Gloss/Travel Size Hairspray:  I won't need these in heaven because my body will be like his heavenly body (Philippians 3:21), made perfect for ever and always, unlike here.  As Jon Foreman sings in the song Learning How to Die, here on earth, "The grave is lazy, he takes our body slow."  But heaven is all about life forever, no decay.

My Kleenexes and Cough Drops:  Won't need these in heaven--no sickness!  At least I would hope that that whole Philippians 3:21 thing above means that we won't be subject to seasonal colds anymore...

My Keys:  These won't be necessary for getting into things because everyone will be trustworthy.  Imagine that.

My Sunglasses:  In heaven, we won't need the light of the sun, because God will be our light (Revelation 22:4-6).  And I'm guessing he comes UV-free.  And I am just going out on a limb here, but I am also guessing that he is so loving and so exactly perfect that he would make himself not too bright or too dim for us, but just right.  Actually, I think he will be pure brightness, but he'll give us eyes than can actually stare into that light and see.

My Phone:  I am guessing there is some sort of amazing form of communication, like ESP, that will be happening up in heaven between and among God and his people.  It will be like the way that you want to share your soul with other people or with God here on earth, but can't.  The kind of soul-to-soul communication that sometimes occurs here in a look or the chord of a song or in a sunrise, but then goes away.

As a former Speech Communication major and an actress--a communicator--I love the idea that in heaven, there will be no pain in vulnerability, and no need to get stuck when you don't have the words.  Fantastic.  Perfect relationship.


Now, remember, dear reader, that these are just the musings of one Jesus-follower, and not necessarily something to build a theology of heaven around.  In other words, if the Bible disagrees with me on anything I typed here, then go with the Bible, not me.

But maybe I've given you something to think about.  There are definitely worse hobbies than daydreaming about heaven...