No Ordinary People

I’m thinking more about heaven these days.

What if I really lived with heaven in mind? What if heaven was my ultimate bucket list item, and all I did revolved around getting ready?

And then what if the reality of heaven really affected how I engaged with other people? What if I looked at everyone I talked to as someone with whom my interaction would move one step closer to or further away from heaven?

It may be possible for each to think too much of his own potential glory hereafter; it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbor…It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.(Lewis, C.S., The Weight of Glory)

Attending a funeral a few weeks ago pushed me deeper into these thoughts. Donna, the spunky mom of my dear friend, is now in heaven. And she leaves behind a wide ribbon of many who are one step closer themselves. Maybe not because they are quite ready to die, but because they know more about Jesus because of Donna.

One of her family friends choked up as he spoke at her service. The tears that lodged in his throat weren’t about Donna’s death, but in remembrance of her son’s death thirty-some years back. Her friend landed on what changed in Donna after that jagged loss of her child.

“When you have an investment like that in heaven, it means more to you.”

After Billy’s death, he said, Donna increased her passion to move those around her closer to heaven. She loved and cared deeply about their souls. She wanted to share the hope she had of heaven. She looked for those who didn’t share her hope, and then she played tennis with them, read books with them, held their hands and looked in their eyes and asked if they wanted to know Jesus.

Donna was no ordinary person. And she knew that neither you nor I am, either.

And now she’s there, and we are here, thinking about–even longing for–heaven.

I’m remembering again Lewis’s words:  “All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations.”  I just this morning met my new mail carrier and added her to my prayer list. Maybe someday after we get to know each other a bit more, I can tell her about Jesus.

Hope and Be.Longing

What can I do today to help someone move one step closer to the hope of heaven?

“For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes…” (Romans 1:16)