Blog
Heaven is for Real from Sony Pictures
Heaven’s a hot topic of late, with the movie Heaven is for Real and the still bestselling book 90 Minutes in Heaven. I like that. I believe in heaven, and want to spend more than 90 minutes there! But I sometimes suspect that focusing too much on eternal life in heaven can distract us from the eternal life of knowing Jesus now, and better later.
Here’s the back story.
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Sisters' Cafe
Today in worship I wondered about some clichés that need to be fresh. Sunday: the first day of the week. A chance to get lost in worship, to acknowledge our shortcomings, to gain forgiveness. To get a fresh start. So true it’s become a cliché. But Sunday’s not enough.
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Coin Flip by kirovtv.com
Let’s flip the coin. Last week, we began to explore God’s role in daily life with a story of how he overwhelmingly directed a major change in moving me to Taos. One repeated response by readers dealt with the rarity of such clear direction. Though seldom for many of us, it does happen. But my time in Taos ended in a radically opposite form.
I’d spent a year in youth ministry a few years earlier, and upon getting fired, declared I’d rather drive a truck. Not long after, the manager of a parts house offered me a job—driving a truck. God has a nice sense of humor, but I should have said I’d preferred being a movie star!
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The entrance to the ranch.
We all face critical change points, events that significantly shape the rest of our lives. What puzzles me, though, is life determined for people of faith? Some, like Calvinists, lean toward God choosing all. Arminians blend free will into the mix, and deists acknowledge that although God created the world, he has little involvement in daily operations.
For me, one of the three greatest change points came with my move to Taos NM. I’m absolutely clear that God determined that—here’s why. Tired of SoCal congestion and smog, I determined to move to Colorado, where I had a job lead. The route led through Taos, where I’d lead mission projects for two summers. Then came nine issues, each essential for the final result.
I pulled into Albuquerque on a rainy Saturday...
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Revealing that a favorite song comes from the 60s doesn’t necessarily date me as ancient. One of my high school students also loves “I am a Rock” by Simon and Garfunkel--his parents play it all the time. But for years, my theme was the line, “and a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries.”
The safety of being a rock came from my fear of being known, of being rejected or judged, of being hurt or disappointed. So, I played it safe and let few inside. That verged on sliding into hypocrisy—knowingly and intentionally portraying a person I knew I wasn’t. By the way, that’s why many reject following Jesus. Not that we aren’t perfect, but we pretend to be.
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soulation.org
Before we began
I wondered
could you fill
the voids in my life
change the traits I could not?
I yielded
You did it all
which leads me to believe...
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Saturday, a chance to catch up on yard and house maintenance, at least until my body screams, “Enough.” Trying to remember the good times when I could work all day, I put some classic rock on Pandora and cranked up the outside speakers. Bob Dylan’s “Knock, Knock, Knocking on Heaven’s Door” soon brought back a Facebook discussion over the previous several days, ranging from do all people go to heaven, why or why not, can people change, forgiveness, and justice. Some deep issues done well with divergent views.
Since Unconventional exists to discuss what it means to follow Jesus, we can all benefit from making sure we’re on track, so that when we stand, knocking on heaven’s door, that door will open. So, some basics that touch the results of following Jesus.
First, all people go to heaven who want to go there. Honest. But...
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I like old stuff. Always have. Dad’s aunt and uncle would escape the Utah winter and snow to stay in Santa Monica for several months each year, and I’d quietly listen to tales of much earlier frontier days. On the bike trips, old farms, barns, and houses entrance me. Two years ago we spent a few days in Deadwood, SD, where Wild Bill Hickok was killed, where Calamity Jane capered, and I was nearly in heaven. Last spring Sheila and I visited an old central California town. She headed for an antique store; I crossed the street to a hotel/bar about 120 years old.
So, when Roland Peachie, a friend from high school days, posted the pic above, the decaying barn first drew my attention.
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