At the risk of seeming a bit jaded, I’ve come to the conclusion that many things in this world that seem like good ideas—even wonderfully romantic or exciting—end up being five parts hard work and one part romance or excitement.
That doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing—many times, they are—but it just means that a bit more realism at the outset might be good.
Marriage, parenthood, and puppies, for example. Such happy concepts. But can we talk realities here? Soulmates, squeezable babies, and cuddly little bundles of doggy cuteness also mean morning breath, sleepless nights, and puddles on the floor.
Here’s another example: I used to imagine that it would be wonderfully fun to turn acres of woods into a beautiful yard. All by ourselves, without professional help. You know, like the pioneers did.
Years ago, we built a house on a few acres of wooded land and I thought, “How hard could it be to make this yard look great?”
How hard? Too hard. Too doggone hard.
I just about wrecked my back trying to hack through root systems obviously established when dinosaurs roamed the earth. Oh yes, the wilderness fought back. It did not want to be tamed.
It didn’t help that between the two of us, my husband and I have four thumbs, and not one of them is green.
I thought often about the pioneers of yesteryear as I battled our personal jungle. I was in awe that they cultivated vast expanses of forested land using only primitive tools.
I have no problem freely admitting now that I’m not made of the same stuff those pioneers were made of. I am a certifiable, 21st-century wimp and I’m all for power tools, heavy equipment and professional landscapers…not to mention indoor plumbing, electricity, air-conditioning and wireless internet.
Over the next several months, my husband and I hope to begin building a house on 75 acres of “wilderness,” but I have no grand pioneer delusions or ambitions this time around. No, sirree. One of the advantages of growing older is that my expectations and reality are usually more closely aligned.
I do know, however, that a time is coming when the chasm between my expectations and reality will be bigger than ever. Beyond measure, in fact. At the moment when my life on this earth comes to an end, I believe the reality I step into will be far better and more glorious than anything I could ever have imagined or expected.
I recently read a fascinating book, titled simply Heaven, by Randy Alcorn, a bestselling Christian author whose credentials, near as I can tell, include not being a wacko. Alcorn doesn’t claim to have “walked toward the light” or visited heaven. He’s simply taken Scriptures about heaven and pieced together a picture, admittedly incomplete and imperfect, of what the future holds for those who have placed their faith in Jesus Christ.
And my, oh my, what a picture it is! I felt like I was reading a travel brochure for the absolute ultimate vacation destination…times one thousand. Alcorn doesn’t claim to get it all right—after all, the Bible says we really can’t adequately comprehend how great heaven will be (1 Corinthians 2:9)—but this much is clear: Jesus is preparing quite a place for His followers (John 14:2). QUITE a place.
Forget clouds and harps and boring preconceptions. It’s going to be perfectly fulfilling, exciting, beautiful and real. Way beyond our loftiest expectations.
The question isn’t whether we’ll be disappointed in heaven. We won’t be. The question is, will we be there?
“I am the way, the truth, and the life,” Jesus said. “No one comes to the Father but through Me.” (John 14:6)