Rob Bell and apocalypse fail,
We’re all thinking about Heaven.
Is it full of saints without complaints,
Or was Twain right about boredom?
Will we prance on white fluffy clouds
or hardly walk on rough, tough ground?
Frankly, I just want to fly around
On happy wings full of white feathers.
What will we do, with the treasure
we worked bloody hard to accrue?
Will we buy stuff from the gift shop?
If we sing, will it be like pop
or more like old, Nazarene songs?
As much as I ask, I’d rather not task
anyone with writing another
questionable book about Heaven.
But again, somebody will die
they’ll go up and go in like a spy
and come back to tell us their tale
about the place opposite of hell
unfortunately, it’ll sell
incredibly well and we’ll all
be thinking about heaven again.
I hate poetry. Or at least, any that I would write, but I had some fun with this. I don’t know what to say about people speculating about Heaven. With our recent books and events, there seems to be a lot of them offering their commentary on the place. Going along with that, soteriology is incredibly important but if we treat Jesus like the access point to eternal joy and the paradise theme park and forget the whole relational aspect to our salvation, aren’t we missing the point to Heaven? I think so.
We all need to stop worrying about what it’ll be like when we die
and start living in our relationship with Jesus and each other.
(I’m talking to myself on that one, too- so don’t feel bad.)