Work in Heaven: A Fresh Perspective

I recently read the book “Seasons of Sorrow: The Pain of Loss and the Comfort of God” by Tim Challies. It is a series of short chapters written after the unexpected death of his college-aged son. Some of the chapters were familiar to me, as he described thoughts, questions, and answers I had also experienced in my own grief journey. Some of the chapters challenged me with new and helpful thoughts and ideas about love, longing, and walking with grief.

In one of the chapters he objects to the notion that because his son’s earthly life is over, there is so much he has not accomplished, saying: “It is not likely that such noble dreams and ambitions, such rare and precious traits, are even more at home in heaven than on earth? Is it not plausible that in the place of perfection, they have not been erased but rather increased, not diminished but multiplied? Is it not appropriate, then, that I should turn my lamentations into praise, my grief into hope, my sorrow into expectation, confident that Nick has gone where he can thrive, where he can flourish, where his every dream can be made good?”

I had never really thought about Oliver’s heavenly existence as a place of growth and productivity before. Oliver’s death brought me a longing for heaven and a better understanding of how great heaven must be, but I didn’t spend much time thinking about what he would be doing in heaven. Could it be not just a wonderful place, but also a place of fulfillment and productive work for the kingdom of God? Not just in a "watching over us" sense but in a "still working and growing and accomplishing" sense? I do not like to think about him just waiting or even just playing. He loved to work. There is so much I would have liked to see him do. Maybe when I join him someday he will have lots to say about the work he has been doing for our heavenly Father. May I be found at work for the kingdom too.

For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. Ephesians 2:10

Fruitful

I can’t stop thinking about these flowers and trees I have seen on my in-laws property in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan the last few years. You have to brave the tall grass, ticks, and mosquitoes to find them. They were planted probably forty to sixty or more years ago and have been untended for decades. Yet they grow wild now, blooming and bearing fruit with abandon.

I think about the people who planted them. They were likely hopeful Finnish homesteaders trying to make a living off of a cold and rocky land. Only a few of the structures they built on this property are still surviving, maybe the sign of a foundation or a well here or there. Their dreams of a permanent place to call their own and a farm to pass to their children and children’s children didn’t last here. And yet a legacy of sorts lives on in these flowers and apple trees, as well as in the house, barn, gardens, fields, and forest my in-laws have built over their years on the land.

It reminds me: dreams don’t have to come all the way to fulfillment for them to bear fruit. The wild and the untended are beautiful in their own way. There are surprises to be found in the wild overgrowth. God tends His garden. There is a legacy to our efforts that lives on after we move on. Nothing is perfect in this life. Dreams don’t always look like what we expect, but that doesn’t mean that beauty isn't the result.