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What is heaven? What really happens when our days here on earth come to an end?
Heaven is referred to by different names: paradise, eternity, the afterlife, the new Jerusalem, resurrection. Throughout the ages Christians have wondered about it, longed for it, inquired into it, meditated on it, preached about it, and written about it in poems and songs. Some of these "wonderings" are gathered in this remarkable collection of varied passages from Christians across the centuries and from all walks of life. Brief biographies of the contributors are also included, making this book a rich resource. After reading A Glimpse of Heaven, you will yearn for the blessings of heaven.
"Not even the most learned philosopher or theologian knows what it is going to be like. But there is one thing which the simplest Christian knows -- it is going to be all right. Somewhere, somewhen, somehow we who are worshiping God here will wake up to see Him as He is, and face to face."
-- John Baillie (1886-1960)
"What a pleasure is there in the heavenly kingdom, without fear of death; and how lofty and perpetual a happiness with eternity of living!"
-- Cyprian (200-258)
"The death incident is merely a passage from earth life, from the womb that has contained you until now, into the marvelous newness of heaven life."
-- Joseph Bayly, Heaven, 1977
The Bible may only give us glimpses into eternity, but we can be sure of one thing: "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him" (1 Corinthians 2:9). From the literary and poetic to the humorous and scholarly, these classic and contemporary reflections offer a glorious wide-angled view of heaven -- full of insight, truth, hope, worship, and utter anticipation! This book will focus on the hope of every believer and will comfort every heart.
- Sales Rank: #2499193 in Books
- Published on: 2007-10-02
- Released on: 2007-10-02
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 9.00" h x .60" w x 6.00" l, .77 pounds
- Binding: Paperback
- 240 pages
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
The Call of Heaven
Persuaded of a Future Life
Athenagoras -- second century
For if we believed that we should live only the present life, then we might be suspected of sinning, through being enslaved to flesh and blood, or overmastered by gain or carnal desire; but since we know that God is witness to what we think and what we say both by night and by day, and that He, being Himself light, sees all things in our heart, we are persuaded that when we are removed from the present life we shall live another life, better than the present one, and heavenly, not earthly (since we shall abide near God, and with God, free from all change or suffering in the soul, not as flesh, even though we shall have flesh, but as heavenly spirit), or, falling with the rest, a worse one and in fire; for God has not made us as sheep or beasts of burden, a mere by-work, and that we should perish and be annihilated. On these grounds it is not likely that we should wish to do evil, or deliver ourselves over to the great Judge to be punished.
Athenagoras was an Athenian philosopher active in the latter part of the second century. It is said that he wrote against Christianity, but after his conversion he became an apologist for the faith. As a writer, he had a clear style and was forceful in his arguments, and was the first to elaborate a philosophical defense of the Christian doctrine of God as Three in One. His Plea on Behalf of Christians was addressed to the emperors Hadrian and Antoninus.
A Destiny Beyond Dust
Alfred Tennyson -- 1850
Strong Son of God, immortal Love, Whom we, that have not seen thy face, By faith, and faith alone, embrace,Believing where we cannot prove;
Thine are these orbs of light and shade; Thou madest Life in man and brute; Thou madest Death; and lo, thy footIs on the skull which thou hast made.
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust: Thou madest man, he knows not why; He thinks he was not made to die;And thou hast made him: thou art just.
Thou seemest human and divine, The highest, holiest manhood, thou: Our wills are ours, we know not how;Our wills are ours, to make them thine.
Our little systems have their day; They have their day and cease to be: They are but broken lights of thee,And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
We have but faith: we cannot know; For knowledge is of things we see; And yet we trust it comes from thee,A beam in darkness: let it grow.
Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892) is often regarded as the chief representative of the Victorian age in poetry. Son of a clergyman, he was tutored at home and then studied at Trinity College, Cambridge. He was appointed poet laureate by Queen Victoria in 1850, succeeding Wordsworth. He held the title for forty-two years and was buried in the Poets' Corner in Westminster Abbey. Tennyson's works tended toward the melancholic, reflecting the moral and intellectual values of England in his time.
It Is Going to Be All Right
John Baillie -- twentieth century
Not even the most learned philosopher or theologian knows what it is going to be like. But there is one thing which the simplest Christian knows -- it is going to be all right. Somewhere, somewhen, somehow we who are worshiping God here will wake up to see Him as He is, and face to face. No doubt it will all be utterly different from anything we have ever imagined or thought about it. No doubt God Himself will be unimaginably different from all our present conceptions of Him. But He will be unimaginably different only because He will be unimaginably better. The only thing we do certainly know is that our highest hopes will be more than fulfilled, and our deepest longings more than gratified.
John Baillie (1886-1960) was a Scottish theologian and professor at the University of Edinburgh. Ecumenical in his vision, he also served as president of the World Council of Churches. He had a deep concern for the doubts people might have regarding the Christian faith and excelled as an apologist. His most famous devotional work is the widely circulated A Diary of Private Prayer.
The Signature of the Soul
C. S. Lewis -- 1962
We are very shy nowadays of even mentioning heaven. We are afraid of the jeer about "pie in the sky," and of being told that we are trying to "escape" from the duty of making a happy world here and now into dreams of a happy world elsewhere. But either there is "pie in the sky" or there is not. If there is not, then Christianity is false, for this doctrine is woven into its whole fabric. If there is, then this truth, like any other, must be faced, whether it is useful at political meetings or no. Again, we are afraid that heaven is a bribe, and that if we make it our goal we shall no longer be disinterested. It is not so. Heaven offers nothing that a mercenary soul can desire. It is safe to tell the pure in heart that they shall see God, for only the pure in heart want to. There are rewards that do not sully motives. A man's love for a woman is not mercenary because he wants to marry her, nor his love for poetry mercenary because he wants to read it, nor his love of exercise less disinterested because he wants to run and leap and walk. Love, by definition, seeks to enjoy its object.
You may think that there is another reason for our silence about heaven -- namely, that we do not really desire it. But that may be an illusion. What I am now going to say is merely an opinion of my own without the slightest authority, which I submit to the judgement of better Christians and better scholars than myself. There have been times when I think we do not desire heaven but more often I find myself wondering whether, in our heart of hearts, we have ever desired anything else. You may have noticed that the books you really love are bound together by a secret thread. You know very well what is the common quality that makes you love them, though you cannot put it into words: but most of your friends do not see it at all, and often wonder why, liking this, you should also like that. Again, you have stood before some landscape, which seems to embody what you have been looking for all your life; and then turned to the friend at your side who appears to be seeing what you saw -- but at the first words a gulf yawns between you, and you realise that this landscape means something totally different to him, that he is pursuing an alien vision and cares nothing for the ineffable suggestion by which you are transported. Even in your hobbies, has there not always been some secret attraction which the others are curiously ignorant of -- something, not to be identified with, but always on the verge of breaking through, the smell of cut wood in the workshop or the clap-clap of water against the boat's side? Are not all lifelong friendships born at the moment when at last you meet another human being who has some inkling (but faint and uncertain even in the best) of that something which you were born desiring, and which, beneath the flux of other desires and in all the momentary silences between the louder passions, night and day, year by year, from childhood to old age, you are looking for, watching for, listening for? You have never had it. All the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it -- tantalising glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest -- if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself -- you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say, "Here at last is the thing I was made for." We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want, the thing we desired before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, and which we shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work. While we are, this is. If we lose this, we lose all.
All that you are, sins apart, is destined, if you will let God have His good way, to utter satisfaction.
This signature on each soul may be a product of heredity and environment, but that only means that heredity and environment are among the instruments whereby God creates a soul. I am considering not how, but why, He makes each soul unique. If He had no use for all these differences, I do not see why He should have created more souls than one. Be sure that the ins and outs of your individuality are no mystery to Him; and one day they will no longer be a mystery to you. The mould in which a key is made would be a strange thing, if you had never seen a key: and the key itself a strange thing if you had never seen a lock. Your soul has a curious shape because it is a hollow made to fit a particular swelling in the infinite contours of the divine substance, or a key to unlock one of the doors in the house with many mansions. For it is not humanity in the abstract that is to be saved, but you -- you, the individual reader, John Stubbs or Janet Smith. Blessed and fortunate creature, your eyes shall behold Him and not another's. All that you are, sins apart, is destined, if you will let God have His good way, to utter satisfaction. The Brocken spectre "looked to every man like his first love" because she was a cheat. But God will look to every soul like its first love because He is its first love. Your place in heaven will seem to be made for you and you alone, because you were made for it -- made for it stitch by stitch as a glove is made for a hand.
C. S. Lewis (1898-1963) taught medieval and renaissance literature at the universities of Oxford and Cambridge. He is known as a brilliant scholar and an apologist for the Christian faith, and his writings have been popular and influential well beyond the boundaries of academia.
Heaven Beckons, and Baffles
Emily Dickinson -- circa 1862
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wonderful devotions
By Sandra Boyce
I purchased this as a gift but also own a copy myself. Each day I read one of the entries as part of my daily devotions. The cross spectrum of thoughts is refreshing.
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