Heaven

Enjoying Now What We Don’t Have Yet

Megan Breedlove June 5, 2017 0Comment

This past week, Lindsey, our 11-year-old daughter, became the first child in our family and the first grandchild on either side to win a college scholarship.

Her scholarship, presented at the fifth grade awards ceremony, was for reading. Earning it involved taking tests over various books of her choice, then accruing points depending on how well she scored on each test. Despite the fact that she only started public school in January, Lindsey had earned the most test points. She had also received credit for 2.5 million words (the first-place student, who had been there all year, had 3.4 million words).

Each of the six students who won a reading scholarship was called up onto the stage, given a medal, and presented with a large, foam-board “check” and a ball cap from the college the student had previously indicated he or she would be interested in attending one day.

Lindsey’s smile said it all. She was, and is, pretty thrilled—despite the fact that she hasn’t actually received the money yet. That’s because she won’t actually receive it until she enrolls in a four-year university and provides proof of enrollment to the foundation that sponsors the scholarships. When she does that, the money will officially be hers.

Why is she so happy now, if she doesn’t have the money yet?

Because she is 100% certain that one day, she will.

If Lindsey had any doubts about the commitment of the donor, or his ability to follow through, she wouldn’t be nearly as excited. She might appreciate that she’d been recognized during the assembly, and she’d probably feel hopeful that the donor would come through one day, but she wouldn’t feel the same joy that she feels now. Lindsey’s joy is based on her certainty that one day, she will receive what has been promised.

Life can be hard. Sometimes, it’s agonizing. But what if you could be certain, in the midst of the sorrow, that there will come a day when life is no longer hard? That tears of grief will never again wet your cheeks? That you will never again feel lonely, or inadequate, or hopeless?

What if you could be 100% certain that someday, someone would take away all your pain forever? That you would never again sin, or be sinned against? That all that’s wrong with this world would one day be made right, and that you would experience joy beyond anything you can now imagine?

Actually…you can. You can be that certain of all those things. That’s because Jesus has promised that this world is not all there is. He’s promised to come back for us—all those that love Him—and to take us to live with Him forever.

Too often, we make the mistake of thinking of heaven as some kind of eternity-long church service, and we’re understandably not too excited about that. But if that’s all we think it is, then we just don’t understand it at all.

Heaven is seeing Jesus’ face with no sin barriers between us. It’s never-ending joy. It’s eternal fellowship with people who will always treat us right. It’s never feeling less-than or unable. It’s no more physical limitations. Basically, heaven is the fulfillment of everything we’ve ever longed for, even if we didn’t know that’s what we wanted.

Lindsey is completely certain that one day, she will receive what was promised her. And she will—provided there isn’t some horrible catastrophe that wipes out the entire eastern seaboard, where the sponsoring organization is based.

You and I can be even more certain that we will receive what we were promised, because nothing can thwart God’s purposes or cause Him to be unable to make good on His word.

Whenever Lindsey remembers her scholarship, she will be encouraged that someone invested in her (even at 11 years old, she’s already thinking about it this way).

You and I can be encouraged that Jesus Himself said He was going to invest in getting things ready for us.

So when life gets hard—when we’re tired, frustrated, or grieving—may we remember that this is not all there is.

May we remember heaven, where Jesus is even now preparing perfection for us.

And may we begin to enjoy now what we don’t have yet.

John 14:2-3—“In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for us? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.” (ESV)

3:00 p.m.

Megan Breedlove October 1, 2012 0Comment

Recently, my husband and I made the difficult decision to temporarily enroll our son Kenny in public school. It was a tough call because we knew God had called us to be a homeschooling family, yet we also knew that Kenny needed the help the public school could provide in working on some speech and social issues.

We prayed and sought God, and God made it clear in various ways that right now, He is expanding our family’s calling to being a public school family as well. So last Tuesday, we enrolled Kenny in our local school.

In processing this decision, I posted about it on Facebook. One particular comment said I would really miss having Kenny home with me all day. “I know it will take some getting used to on both of your parts,” a friend of mine responded, “but just think of the joy at the end of each day.”

Oh, yes, I could imagine the reunion with my precious son. And in that same moment, I realized that this is how God feels about us.

I long for 3:00, when I can pick Kenny up and take him home. God longs for a day and hour sometime in the future (only He knows the exact moment) when His Son will descend to pick us up and take us home to heaven. And if I, being evil, long for my son with that much love, how much more does a perfectly holy and loving God long for His children—us?

Each day I get excited when 2:45 rolls around and it’s time to get ready. And we know that even now, God is getting things ready for the day and hour He chose before the foundation of the world to pick us up. How much more excited is God at picking up all His children and seeing His plan for the ages come to completion?

One of the things I love best about getting Kenny is that I get to see his face. That’s because his face is precious to me. When I look at him, I see so much more than his physical attributes. I see his spirit and his personality. I see my beloved son.

God, too, is waiting to see us face-to-face. Oh, sure, He can see our faces now. But we can’t see His. Yet He, and we, both know that there is coming a time when we will be able to see each other face to face. How excited must God be as He contemplates being able to show His face to His beloved children! And how excited we should be in realizing that for the first time ever in our life, we will be able to look at the face of our Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer! Our Provider, Comforter, and Savior. Our Strength. Our Almighty God.

Precious mom, I can’t wait for that day. It’s going to be the best day ever when that happens, and then eternity will only get more and more joyful and glorious from then on.

The next time you pick up your child, whether from school, daycare, a friend’s house, or somewhere else, stop just a moment. Stop right there in the busyness of your day. Think about how much joy you feel upon seeing your child’s face. And think how excited God is right now, waiting for the day when He will see your face.

Because as beloved as your child is to you, you are far more beloved to God. As much as you long to see your child, God longs for you even more. “One day, I’ll send my Son for you,” He tells us over and over in the pages of Scripture. “Because I can’t wait to see you.”

1 Corinthians 13:12—Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

In Heaven

Megan Breedlove June 6, 2011 0Comment

Some days, heaven seems like such an ephemeral concept. I’m fully convinced that one day, one of two things will happen: either I’ll close my eyes on earth and wake up in heaven, or the Lord Jesus will return for His faithful at His Second Coming. But in the midst of the ordinariness of life down here, heaven sometimes doesn’t seem very tangible to me.

Please don’t misunderstand: I believe that heaven is real. I believe it’s an actual, physical place I will one day inhabit by the grace of God, along with others who have loved His Son and longed for His appearing. But does heaven feel real to me? Not always.

You see, the greatest thing about heaven is not just that I’ll get to avoid going to hell, which is also very real. The most mind-blowing thing about heaven is that I’ll get to live in the presence of God for all eternity and see His face. And that’s the difficulty. My mind is blown.

When I try to meditate on what it will be like to see the face of the One who died for me, I can’t truly comprehend it. I feel as if I’ve touched the lapping water at the edge of the seashore without being able to wade in. I’ve had a taste of the ocean, but venturing farther would overwhelm me.

Other things about heaven, however, are easier to grasp. Revelation 21:4 tells me that after God wipes all the tears from my eyes for what happened on earth, I will never cry again. Neither will heaven hold any more death, mourning, or pain in store for me.

Now that, I can imagine! I enjoy my life on earth—a lot—but it’s not perfect. At times, pain has intruded, and I’ve been hurt. I’d love to live in a place where I knew that would never happen again.

In heaven, I will, starting with the redemption of my body. I won’t feel physical pain anymore. I won’t get sick or suffer from allergies, the flu, or something worse.

My body will never be weak or tired. I’ll never have to haul myself through another day, weary beyond belief. I’ll never lack the energy to do the things my heart desires to do.

I won’t need bifocal contacts anymore. My knee won’t ache when the barometric pressure changes. My body won’t deteriorate as I get old. I’ll become—and remain—physically strong, healthy, and whole.

Not only that, but I’ll be emotionally unbroken. Instead of experiencing pain when I think about what was done to me, or what failed to be done for me, I will rejoice at God’s grace in carrying me through.

In heaven, I’ll never be rejected by someone whose acceptance I longed for. I’ll never be lonely. I’ll never be left out, misunderstood, or brushed aside. I won’t hurt anyone else, either.

I’ll never try my hardest and still fail, or find that my best efforts weren’t good enough. I’ll never be frustrated, discouraged, or at my wits’ end.

I won’t struggle to relate to God anymore. I won’t sin.

My heart will never be broken on my children’s behalf because of what they have to endure, because they’ll be there with me in that perfect place. My Savior is their Savior, too.

What will I be able to do? I’ll be able to eat my fill of bread without worrying what it will do to my blood sugar. I’ll be able to run from here to there without asthma squeezing my chest so tightly I can’t breathe. I won’t be allergic to strawberries.

I’ll get to be with most of the people I love forever. I’ll meet some I never met on earth, including my precious babies. I’ll relate to some people like I’ve always wanted to on earth, and I’ll talk with them in ways I’ve only dreamed of.

I’ll never have to say goodbye to loved ones ever again. I’ll never have to grieve over losing them, because there will be no more death in that place.

I will be constantly, completely, infinitely loved as the person God created me to be, and I will feel loved. Forever. For all eternity.

A heaven like that, I can imagine. That kind of place seems real.

I consider myself abundantly blessed in this life, but if it weren’t for the fact that my family needs me, I’d be ready to go Home now. As good as life can be at times, I’m more than ready to leave the shadowlands behind and enter the brilliant perfection of the Home I was made for.

Until then, when pain and grief assault me and I long for something better—something more—I’ll trust God to carry me through. Because one day, this life will be over, and I’ll be alive in ways I’ve only imagined.

I can’t wait.

Revelation 21:4—He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.

Entitled

Megan Breedlove May 30, 2011 0Comment

I warn you: if you love baseball, this devotional is going to make you jealous. You might get jealous even if you don’t love baseball. That’s because…well, let me explain.

Recently, we received a very generous gift: four tickets to a major league baseball game. We were seated in the front row of the ballpark. Right. Behind. Home. Plate. Despite having ticketed seats, we arrived at the ballpark an hour before the game. That’s because a complimentary sirloin and seafood buffet was also included at a restaurant upstairs. After stuffing ourselves silly, we left the restaurant and proceeded toward the section where our seats were located. As we came to the top of the stairs, an attendant stood ready to check our tickets. The attendant looked at my ticket, smiled, and said, “Go on down!” He gestured toward the front row.

The section was pretty full, and as we walked down the stairs, we passed between rows and rows of people, all seated and waiting for the game to start. We kept descending, passing more and more seats. We walked right to the front row, where another attendant met us and checked our tickets again to make sure not only that we belonged in that section, but that we belonged in one of the front two rows. The ones with comfy seats, and a game program, popcorn, and peanuts waiting for us. Where the aforementioned attendant would get us anything we needed throughout the game. We sat down in our seats and settled in comfortably, just in time to watch the first batter walk to the plate only yards in front of us.

Obviously, it was an amazing experience. It was one we never could have achieved on our own. But because of our friend’s gift, we belonged there.

Yet as incredible as this gift was, I’ve received one that’s even greater. So have you, if you’ve committed your life to Christ. When Christ is your Friend, you get far more than the chance to enjoy your beloved sport in grand style—you also gain access to God Himself and to His heaven. Someday, just as I walked into that ballpark, you and I will walk into heaven itself, and we will belong there. We’ll have a right to be there because Christ purchased our access for us. We’ll walk boldly not to the front row, but to the throne of grace. We’ll spend eternity not in the presence of an attendant who will bring us bottled water, but in the presence of the God who created water, and everything else that is.

Sometimes, we don’t feel worthy to enter God’s heaven and approach Him boldly. You know what? We’re not worthy. None of us can demand to sit in the front row because of who we are. We can only take our seats there because of who our Friend is. Likewise, when we have a front-row ticket, we shouldn’t be sitting up in the nosebleed seats because we don’t feel worthy to use the ticket. Again, it doesn’t matter one single bit who we are. Those attendants at the ballpark didn’t care who I was. All they cared about was that the person who purchased those tickets said we belonged. She didn’t say we belonged in the farthest reaches of the bleachers. She said we belonged right down there behind home plate. It would have been ridiculous for us to accept the tickets she offered, then refuse to sit where we were assigned because we didn’t feel good enough. She paid the price. She gets to determine who sits in those seats. Likewise, Jesus paid the price for those who believe in Him. He gets to determine that those people get to enter heaven.

The ballpark analogy falls a little short of the heavenly one, however. As amazing as those tickets were, they didn’t entitle me to access to the dugout or to the playing field. I couldn’t just waltz over, sit down by the star pitcher, and strike up a conversation. I would have been thrown out. Maybe thrown in jail. What Jesus purchased for us, however, allows us full access to heaven and, more importantly, to God. Jesus didn’t purchase one of heaven’s nosebleed seats (though even that would have been more than we deserved). He didn’t allow us to come only so far, but no farther. He purchased the best seats in the house: the seats right in God’s lap.

The luxury of that ballgame was a privilege to be enjoyed for a few hours, and then for all the times I will think of the memories we made there. But God intends for us to enjoy the magnificence of heaven for all eternity. The game’s never going to end. We’ll never have to leave. We’ll never pick our way through peanut shells and dropped coupons for free tacos, thinking that the experience was nice while it lasted. We’ll enjoy heaven forever and ever, and unlike a baseball game that might go to 47 innings, we’ll never become bored. Our delight will increase throughout all eternity.

This is what the old line in the song “Blessed Assurance” means—“oh, what a foretaste of glory divine”. Any pleasure we enjoy on this earth is but a dim reflection of the joy waiting for us in heaven. And if I enjoyed that game as much as I did, I can only imagine what heaven will be like!

Someday, I won’t have to imagine anymore. I’ll know what heaven’s like, because I’ll be there. You will too, if you’ve given your life to the Lord. Why, because we deserve it? No. Because our Friend has paid the price. Do you have your ticket?

Hebrews 4:14-16—Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

Heaven at McDonald’s

Megan Breedlove November 23, 2009 0Comment

One day a few weeks ago, the kids and I were on our way home from the YMCA. It was near lunchtime, and as they usually do, the kids began lobbying for stopping at McDonald’s for lunch. This time, I said yes.

“Yayyyyy!” they shouted.

I was glad to take them. I didn’t feel like cooking anyway. I also love it when I get major brownie points from the kids for doing something I’m happy to do. Then, too, I still love McDonald’s, as I have since I was a kid. So I drove them to the one we usually visit.

Immediately when we got inside, the kids headed for the play area. I gave the clerk our order, watching as they piled the tray three feet high with our meals. I grabbed the ketchup and straws and a handful of napkins and found a table in the play area.

The kids ate about half their meals, then decided it was time to go play. They ran off, leaving me at the table by myself, which was fine. It was actually rather peaceful. I opened the book I’d brought with me and began to read.

I read for a few minutes, periodically looking up to check for the kids. One, two, three, four. Good. All there.

When it was finally time to go, I slipped a bookmark between the pages and closed the book. I was really beginning to enjoy it and wished I didn’t have to stop reading.

You see, the book was about heaven. I’d just had the chance to sit and contemplate the glorious place that will be my eternal home. No wonder I was reluctant to get moving. No wonder I’d felt so at peace. What could be better than meditating on heaven and the God Who awaits me there?

Incredibly, this magnificent, loving God had given me a taste of heaven right there in the middle of the McDonald’s playland. Sitting there on a yellow plastic bench, my soul was able to commune with Him as I imagined the place He has prepared for me.

If imagining heaven while in the midst of laughing, shouting kids and the smell of french fries was so wonderful, how much more wonderful will it be when I actually get there? I love the life God has given me, but I do long for that day when I will reach the home I was made for and live forever with the God I love.

Until then, I’ll have to read about heaven, meditate on it, and ask the Holy Spirit to communicate even a fraction of its glories to me. I won’t be able to fully understand or experience heaven until I’m there.

But I will be able to sit in a plastic booth and connect with the One who created both me and heaven, because God can bring a touch of heaven anytime, anywhere.

So the next time you go to McDonald’s and eat in the playland, and you see a mom reading a book and occasionally looking up to check for her kids with a big grin on her face, that’s probably me.

Come join me. Let’s think about heaven together. After all, we’ll both be there one day. So let’s learn about our future home. Let’s be grateful that God lets us experience tastes of it now. And may our we respond to these glimpses of our future home with glory and praise to the One Who has prepared it for us.

1 Corinthians 2:9—No eye has seen, nor ear heard, and it has not occurred to the heart of man, what God has prepared for those who love him.

Swinging

Megan Breedlove September 21, 2009 0Comment

Like most children, mine love going to the park. They enjoy being outdoors and roaming free. They have a great time climbing and sliding. But most of all, they love the swings.

Recently, I took them to a new (to us) park. They had their choice of novel play equipment to conquer, an open field to run around in, or trees to climb. They ignored it all and headed straight for the swings.

I can understand why. After all, what’s not to love about swinging? When you swing, you get to soar higher than you can on your own. You swoosh through the air with the freedom of flying. You experience adrenaline and excitement. You savor the thrill of soaring up, up, up until all you can see is blue sky. You have to swoop back down, but you don’t mind, because you know that in a minute, you’ll fly again. Your grin is huge, your joy boundless.

“Faster! Faster!” you beg, and your mother or father pushes you higher until you are breathless with laughter. The ride is wild and crazy and endless.

Until…it ends. Maybe that’s the only thing that’s not to love about swinging. Because all too soon, your mom or dad says, “It’s time to go home.” You have to slow down and drag your feet in the dirt until your swing stops. “Please just a little longer?” you beg. But the answer is no. You get off and trudge to the car, leaving bliss behind, and you go home with your mother or father.

The Christian life, too, is a wild, joyous ride. You start out small, before the pushes really get you going. With help, you get to where you are pumping your legs with all your might and swinging in extended, graceful arcs. Rocketing upwards brings such joy that you almost forget you ever have to come down.

But unlike a park swing, plummeting downward in life is usually painful. You hope it lasts only an instant, but sometimes, an instant turns into an eon. You slow down, and you don’t have the strength in yourself to get going again. You know it’s going to take someone to push you, to do for you what you can’t do for yourself. Why is it taking so long? you wonder. Why do I have to stay down here, when I want to be up there?

But then, just before forever, you realize that you’re swinging again. Cautiously, you pump your legs, and you find yourself swinging higher. You feel the pushes at your back, you pump harder, and before you know it, you’re once again experiencing the thrill of soaring into the sky. Maybe it’s a different kind of thrill now. Maybe you appreciate it even more, because you know what it’s like to hang motionless at the bottom of the arc. Maybe now, instead of bringing giggles to your lips, the thrill brings profound joy to your soul.

And then, just like swinging at a park, one day, the wild ride is over. You descend from your arc, and you know that it was the last time. Your swing begins to slow, because the pushes aren’t coming anymore. You hear the words from behind you: It’s time to go.

Scuff. Scuff. You drag your shoes in the dirt, and slowly, the scuffs get closer together. Finally, your swing stops. Your ride is over. You loosen your hands from the chains. As you get off, you stretch out your hand. Your Father takes it. And you go home with your Father.

Only this time, you don’t leave bliss behind. This time, you get to enter into a bliss more wondrous than you’ve ever imagined. The ecstasy of being home makes the joyous ride on the swings pale in comparison.

Because the swings were never your home. Even when your ride was at its height, you weren’t home. You had the privilege and pleasure of enjoying the ride for awhile. But it was never the true ride. It wasn’t the ride you were made for.

Precious friend, don’t get so caught up in the dips and swoops of swinging that they become everything to you. They are nothing more than how you pass the time until you get to go home. Someday, the One standing behind you and urging you onward and upward is going to stand in front of you. You’ll get to see His face for the first time. And then your ride begins…when you get off the swings and go Home.

Revelation 21:3b-4—God himself will be with them and be their God. There will be no more death, or mourning, or crying, or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.

2 Peter 3:13—But in keeping with his promise we are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth, the home of righteousness.