"....the great city, the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven
from God, having the glory of God, Her light was like a
precious stone, like a jasper stone, clear as crystal."
Revelation 21:10-11
The Apostle John continues his description of the New Jerusalem, commonly referred to as heaven, in Revelation 21:12 through Revelation 22:5. Some of his narrative may be figurative in nature while other portions are specific to the degree whereby a literal interpretation would most certainly be required. In all, we're left with an image of peace and beauty with room for every individual to discern the specifics for themselves. As for me, my vision for my eternal dwelling has evolved through the years. At different points of my life I have wondered about the who, what, where, when and how of it all. Questions requiring precise answers for which there were none. In time, the fine points of the destination have become less of a fascination than the journey home itself. Suffice to say that heaven will be simply "heavenly" but the pilgrimage through this thing we call life is a wonderment as well. An amazing, lifelong passage marked by an effort to become more like Him. Culminating with our ultimate reward - a loving Savior awaiting our arrival (John 14:3).
Our odyssey encompasses favor and trials, sorrows and joy, success and failures, pain and blessings. Regardless our path, one landmark occasion awaits us all - The Judgement Day. There are a good many Bible verses referencing this moment in time. II Corinthians 5:10 will serve here:
"For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ,
that each one may receive the things done in the body,
according to what he has done, whether good or bad."
Stumbling across this verse the other day forced my mind into the past. Although candidly, the retrospection may have been the consequence of my days stretching out and the slow deterioration of the body demanding a lifetime of external exploration be turned inwards. Regardless, what will my account be? Where have I done good? Where have I done bad? As the ledger began to fill in both columns, one episode rose from the mist of memory and stood out from the rest.
One day, 66 years ago or so, found me as not much more than a toddler under the supervision of my sister Carol, firstborn by six years. We were out in the neighborhood, but not very far. The magic of Google Earth informs me today of a mere 175 feet separating us from our front door. Probably not my first foray separate from my Mother's apron strings, but a milestone nonetheless. Those 175 feet brought us to a vacant lot up the street and somewhat kitty-corner to our house. It was here where we came upon any number of kids of various ages, playing at separate activities. Carol gravitated over to a couple of her friends and began talking. In the far corner of the lot, a group of boys were digging a hole. Perhaps there were four boys....could it be five?....no more than six. The boys were older, at least my sister's age, and hindsight tells me they knew her from school. Then came the unexpected as the leader of the gang announced for all to hear with his best King Lear imitation, "Who will we bury?....Alive!....Carol!" I could feel my sister's body go tense and as the boys stepped in our direction I tensed as well. Now I'm not sure if a three or four year old is physically capable of pumping adrenalin but I locked onto my sister's thigh just above the knee in a bearhug death clasp, closed my eyes, and began to bawl. As the boys grabbed my sister's arms there was a lurch forward toward the pit and my hold slipped to her ankle. My impact with the ground compelled a blood curdling scream but somehow my grip held. Two or three jerky steps of dragging ensued as Carol resisted as well. Then it stopped. The boys had retreated back across the battlefield and as the haze of recollection resettles there is the impression of sobs subsiding as we set off hand in hand for home.
My finest hour.[1]
An episode encompassing a total of maybe 30 seconds. An incident before the age when odds could be calculated and risk assessed. An event governed by instinct far more than intellect.
I'm not sure how God Almighty will view those 30 seconds come Judgement Day. Indeed, good and bad. How difficult they are to quantify when taken in and of themselves let alone when extending the evaluation to include intangible consequences rippling out far beyond the scope of our awareness. Certainly, the assessment becomes increasingly futile. Further, my personal theology holds that those thoughts, acts, and deeds which are sparked by and embodied with faith, hope, and love will be credited with a greater good when compared with other actions predominated by human ideals such as bravery, intelligence, honesty, humility, loyalty, etc.. The problem is in knowing the value - I have no idea what weight to assign the various credits.
For both our sakes I'll spare you the summation of my lowest hour. Needless to say there are any number of cases vying for that "crown". Rather, allow me to simply voice two convictions: Sins of omission are haunting and likewise, guilt left to fester turns insidious.
This whole exercise has reminded me of Christ's wisdom as recorded in Matthew 7:1-2:
"Judge not, that you be not judged.
For with what judgement you judge, you will be judged:
and with what measure you use, it will be measured back to you."
To say the least, the very thought of the Judgement Day is sobering. I fear all might be lost if not for an abiding belief in Christ's love and mercy. A compassion which far outweighs all the sins and shortcomings accumulated to my account. Then, my finest hour, standing firm with the honor for all these many years, will at long last be usurped and I'll hear the words:
"Welcome home."
[1] Their finest hour. The phrase was used by Prime Minister Winston Churchill in a speech delivered to the British House of Commons on June 18, 1940. Sir Winston's intent was to inspire and encourage the British people in the face of untold sacrifices yet to come during WWII, the outcome of the conflict being completely undecided.
