On the day of my wife’s death, my theology drastically shifted. I began to see far more integration between heaven and earth than I ever had previously.
As some background, I have often revolted against American sentimentalism, especially when it comes to heaven. Sayings like “The Cubs won because Harry Caray was cheering” feel silly, since they are not true. (Not only does the opposing team have fans in heaven, but Harry has no power to influence world events.)
Adding to that, based on Jesus’ teachings about marriage (namely, that marriages are not applicable in heaven), I viewed a sharp distinction between relationships here and there. (My view on this always bothered Ginny!) There was life on earth, and there was life in heaven, but little connection between the two, other than things like God’s power and grace.
My view of heaven and earth started to change as I talked with my daughters:
A couple hours after my wife’s passing, my youngest and I took a walk around the hospital. I reminded her of the Hebrews passage that speaks of a “great cloud of witnesses” who cheer us on (Heb. 12:1), and because of that metaphor, we can probably assume that mom sees us. In response, my 14 year old affirmed with her own scriptural observation: “If the angels rejoice when a person repents” (Luke 15:10), then it shows that heaven can see down to earth. I was astounded by that, since it also supports the idea of heavenly beings looking down to earth.
A few hours after that, my older daughter sobbed and said, “She’ll never see anything again — not my high school graduation, not my college, nothing…” That thought has haunted me for years with, and I didn’t think Emmy would experience that loss for at least a few more months. I cried with her because I had already cried about that for years prior. All I could say was, “I understand. I understand.”
In that moment, I connected a few thoughts together:
A) Jesus taught “the kingdom of heaven is near.” He was speaking of himself, but an implication is that earth and heaven are closer connected than we might think. Jesus himself bridges the connection between them. In short, rather than thinking of it as Part 1 and Part 2, which have little in common, there is far more integration between the two.
B) While upon the cross, Jesus promised the thief, “Today you will be with me in paradise.” So there will be awareness of personal identity in heaven — it’s not just a bunch of abstract spirits singing endlessly, but there is personal awareness of who is who.
C) When speaking of prayer (making requests of God), Jesus asked, “If your child asks you for bread, would any of you give him a stone?” The point being, if you ask our Good Father for what is good, then God would not “prevent” by refusing and replacing with worse.
D) If God gave Ginny a family to love, then it would seem odd if God welcomed Ginny into heaven and said, “Well, that was nice, but now that whole family thing is over. You can’t see your kids anymore.” And if Ginny asked how her children were doing, it would be cruel if God refused — for she was asking for bread. Another way to think about it is this: If asked for good bread, God would not give stones.
Through my tears, I repeatedly told my daughter, “He is a good father — he will not refuse her, he will not refuse her.”
I am not arguing here for eternal marriage. What I am saying is that there is not only connection but integration between this life and the next life.
One problem remains:
If those in heaven are in paradise (point B), then how can they know what is happening on earth without being tainted? For example, if my grandmother in heaven knew of my shortcomings, wouldn’t that ruin paradise for her?
But there’s a solution:
In talking this through, my friend Dan made the comparison to reading scripture. We read about what has happened, and what was done, yet we are not ruined by that. We are aware of what occurred, but we are not depressed by those stories.
To not overwhelm people in paradise, then, it might be that the evils of earth (e.g., murder, genocide, war, etc.) are “veiled” in a sense. Just as our vision of heaven is veiled, so might also earth be veiled to heaven.
Why does all this matter?
If true that a good father would not deny his child from what is good, then we can be fairly confident that Ginny is aware to some degree (perhaps slightly veiled) of what happens here. If you extrapolate that to other loved ones, this can be a drastically important peace.
If this view is true, it’s brought incredible comfort — knowing that Ginny could see my kids hugging each other, how we are honoring her with arrangements, and so on. It’s also been comforting to be less alone in these quieter hours.
The only downside is that on this side, we are far more limited than the heavenly — but that’s one reason to long for the life to come.