I Can Only Imagine

Easter’s over, but no series on mortality would be complete without a few words about Heaven.

Our planet recently lost two prominent citizens. Reverend Billy Graham died on February 21, and renowned physicist Stephen Hawking on March 14. How could two such brilliant minds have held such opposing views on the afterlife? Compare these statements:

Hawking: “We are each free to believe what we want, and it’s my view that the simplest explanation is: there is no God. No one created our universe, and no one directs our fate. This leads me to a profound realization that there probably is no heaven and no afterlife either. We have this one life to appreciate the grand design of the universe and for that, I am extremely grateful.”

Graham: “Someday you will read or hear that Billy Graham is dead. Don’t you believe a word of it. I shall be more alive than I am now. I will just have changed my address. I will have gone into the presence of God.”

Was one of these men completely wrong, or is the truth somewhere in the middle? How can we know? It’s been one of the top questions of humankind since our beginning. It’s the reason people are drawn to mediums who claim they communicate with the spirits of the departed. It’s what makes songs like Mercy Me's I Can Only Imagine and the movie behind it so popular. It’s why we’re so fascinated by those who’ve had near-death experiences (NDEs). We want to know. We want assurance that something better awaits us, or at least nothing far worse.

Books about people who’ve had NDEs abound, and their stories share too much in common for us to dismiss. One of the most powerful I’ve read is by Dr. Eben Alexander, a highly trained neurosurgeon who firmly believed NDEs are fantasies produced by brains under extreme stress—until he experienced one himself. For seven days, Alexander lay in a coma with the part of his brain that controls all thought and emotion shut down completely. His recovery is a medical miracle, but the real miracle lies in the journey he took during that time, through a sphere where neither time nor place mean anything.

Before he underwent his journey, Dr. Alexander could not reconcile his knowledge of neuroscience with any belief in heaven, God, or the soul. Today, he is a doctor who believes true health can be achieved only when we realize that God and the soul are real, and death is not the end of personal existence but only a transition. In his book, Proof of Heaven, he tells the story of meeting and speaking with the Divine source of the universe itself. He says it is the hardest story to tell, because our limited language has no words for what he experienced.

Delta Beach, not Heaven. Not even close.

This falls in line with the words of Jesus’ disciple, John, who received a glimpse into Heaven and recorded everything in the book of Revelation. The book is difficult to understand because it was difficult to write. We have no words.

My favorite promise of John’s, though, is from Revelation 21:4-8: “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away…”

There’s more, and I hope you’ll look it up for yourself. It’s why we sing with great gusto one of my favorite songs, Come as You Are by Crowder. The best line? “Earth has no sorrow that Heaven can’t heal.”

We can only imagine.

Rest is for the Weary, not the Dead

If you hear anyone say, “may she rest in peace” when I die, please smack ‘em for me. I’m sick of needing rest! We should say “rest in peace” to the living, because that’s when we spend a third of our time sleeping—and some of us need a lot more. I resent saying “no” to good things because I need to sleep. It’s frustrating. I don’t know what all I will be doing when I reach the other side, but I am convinced it’ll be anything but resting!

This Easter season, I’ve written about how the resurrection of Jesus Christ gives us hope that we can live forever beyond this life. In fact, death is only a beginning. But did you know there’s a way to experience resurrection while you’re still living and breathing down here? Do yourself a favor this Easter and take time to absorb this song: Resurrecting by Elevation Worship. I mentioned this song in an earlier post. It says, “The tomb where soldiers watched in vain was borrowed for three days.” Listen as the crowd bursts into cheers after the next two lines:

“His body there would not remain; Our God has robbed the grave!”

Allow the song to sweep over you and for the truth of it to sink in deep. Do you realize what this means for you? If someone holds the power over death, he holds power over everything. Why wouldn’t anyone throw in their lot with him? The battles may still rage, but the ultimate war has been won!

The song gets even better.

“By Your spirit, I will rise from the ashes of defeat
The resurrected King is resurrecting me.”

He’s resurrecting me a little each day, even while this body of mine deteriorates. Isn’t that crazy? And ultimately, when it’s my turn to shuffle off this mortal coil, I’ll find myself face to face with the one whose death and resurrection we celebrate this weekend.

Meanwhile, we can live fully alive by refusing to be “that person.” The person who forever talks about doing something, but never does. Do it. Visit that lonely neighbor. Sponsor that child. Take those music lessons. Volunteer. Write that book. Sign up for the class. Teach the workshop. Join a team. Donate blood. Extend the invitation. Forgive that wrong. Share your belongings. Mentor a student. Open your wallet on behalf of others.

Pick something, and start today. Make your life count. And at the end of the day, rest in peace until the time comes when you won’t need to rest anymore.

The bottom line on death is that it’s not forever. Jesus Christ made the boldest claim ever when he called himself the resurrection and the life. “The one who believes in me,” he said, “will live, even though they die.” Then he came back to life to give us the only faith whose founder is alive.

Am I wrong? It’s possible. There’s not a Christian on earth who never experiences doubt, and if they tell you they don’t, they are kidding themselves. It’s possible Jesus Christ did not rise from the dead despite what hundreds of eye witnesses claimed. But until someone shows me something better, I’m resting on Jesus.

Happy Easter!

Will you come to my funeral if I go to yours?

Do you read obituaries? Have you observed that more people opt for no funeral these days? Ever wonder why? I have my theories. One is that fewer people include a traditional faith experience into their lives, so it might seem incongruous to end such a life in a church with prayers and hymns.

Another theory is that people hate attending funerals and don’t want to inflict the same discomfort on their friends. 

Or they view their own funeral as being “on stage,” one of the top fears for many, topping the fear of death itself. Although it’s not likely they’ll be asked to speak.

Or maybe deep down, people fear no one will show up. The ultimate rejection.

I’ve heard people say, “Don’t cry when I’m gone.” That’s not healthy, folks! I don’t want my loved ones paralyzed by grief when I die, but tears are a necessary and healing part of the journey. So is laughter. I hope there is plenty of both at my funeral.

“Don’t make a big fuss when I pass, just stick me in the ground and be done with it,” is another line I’ve heard. A statement like that is usually made out of genuine humbleness, but what these folks may be forgetting is that their funeral isn’t for them. It’s for those they leave behind. I found it wonderfully comforting as a grieving daughter to receive the embraces of friends and relatives, to hear my cousins share their memories of my dad, and to hear how much he meant to his friends. I would have felt the loss far more keenly if Dad had declared he didn’t want a funeral.

I think pre-arranging your funeral is similar. Some say, “I won’t care at that point, so do whatever you want.” Again, it’s not for you. Pre-planning spares others from a hundred decisions, some of them costly, at a time when emotions run high and energy and focus are at an all-time low. How much better to not have to purchase a burial plot, choose a casket, name a charity, and all those details because they’re already decided?

I’m beginning to sound like an ad for a funeral home. I promise, no kickbacks were solicited or received in the writing of this post.

I used to think it would be better to return to the pioneer days where the men of the community gathered to build a box and dig a hole. The women brought food and the pastor said a few words. Death wasn’t a billion-dollar business then, and folks didn’t go into debt to give their loved ones a “decent” burial. But I came to appreciate funeral home directors when my father died. I understood better the service they provided and the professionalism with which they delivered it.

Maybe I’m a control freak, but I’ve been planning my own funeral songs since my thirties. As different songs become more meaningful in any given year, I change my playlist accordingly. You might think that’s morbid, but these songs burst with such victory I don’t see how anyone will return home afterward feeling anything other than hope. You see, I firmly believe it’s not so much that life continues after death, but that it finally, truly begins. 

More next week, when we celebrate the reason for this glorious hope.