”It would be a poor heaven that consisted only of streets of gold and gates of pearl; it is Christ that makes heaven heaven.”
A story of a young preacher who in his youth always preached about heaven, he spoke of the splendour of heaven, he spoke of its beauty, its precious stones and its architectural marvel. Until a few years later, his daughter passed away and went to heaven. And a few years later, his dear wife passed away and she also went to heaven. Decades later, this old preacher still preaches about heaven. He is still ever so excited, he still has the gravitas in his voice when he speaks of it, but now, he doesn’t preach about what is in heaven, he speaks about Who is in heaven. He speaks not of the beauty of its golden Street but of the lamb of God who gave everything for the ones he loved. He does not talk about the elegant gardens, he speaks of the darling of heaven, walking in all His glory. He speaks not of the place just across the jordans, or singing with the angels or the pearly gates, he simply preaches of the true beauty of heaven.
If we can be where that preacher man is, life would be meaningful. We live and we die, we do so very little in this short life on earth, but we do all this on earth, so that one day, we can meet Him face to face, hug him. Kiss him, embrace him.
To reach where that preacher stands is to realize that eternity was never about an escape, a palace, or a compensation for our earthly suffering. It is about presence. In our youth, we are so often enamored by the gifts, the imagined landscapes, the absence of pain, the promise of golden avenues because our hearts are still tethered to the tangibles of this world. But grief, time, and grace strip away the scaffolding of our petty fascinations until only what truly matters remains. The loss of those he cherished did not make heaven seem further away; it hollowed out his soul so that only love could fill the void. When all the secondary wonders fade into the background, we find that paradise is not a geography of ruby and jasper, but an eternal communion. The beauty of the destination is entirely swallowed up by the radiance of the One who welcomes us home.
That beauty is the point of all things. That beauty is the melody in our songs. That beauty fuels our pen. That beauty amplifies our voices. He Is The Point of Heaven!