Wherever two or more are gathered, someone is asking: What is heaven like? Will our deceased pets be there? At the resurrection, will we be raised as children, teens or adults? When will the Eschaton be upon us? Has it already begun?
While much of the “there” and “yet to come” remains a great mystery, the greater mysteries are about the here and now.
The Apostle John writes, “How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God.” Then, as if at a loss of saying anything more profound, John adds, “And that is what we are!” If you are not similarly dumbstruck, it is time to pause and let that mystery sink in.
When Jesus told his disciples that their accomplishments would surpass his, I can imagine a few shared glances across the Passover table. Considering his formidable list of doings — healing the sick, raising the dead, scattering the demons, feeding the multitudes — it must have seemed the unlikeliest of predictions. But shortly they would see it happening.
After three years of public ministry, Jesus attracted scarcely more than 100 followers. But in a matter of weeks after his death, his disciples went about liberating people from the grip of sin and knitting them together in the body of Christ. Overnight they added 5,000 followers to their ranks, a following that, by 300 A.D., had grown to 6 million.
Two thousand years later, their work led to a worldwide community of 2 billion members and to a host of cultural changes that shaped Western civilization for the betterment of mankind. And that points to another “greater” mystery.
In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul reveals “that now, through the church, the manifold wisdom of God should be made known to the rulers and authorities in the heavenly realms.”
From this, it is not hard to imagine Christians as players on a cosmic stage surrounded by an unseen audience absorbed in the developing drama — one that Peter states, “Even angels long to look into.” And what those watchful eyes have witnessed is the invisible kingdom becoming visible, through the mystical body of Christ.
Indeed, as believers in every era have incarnated the Gospel through proclamation and practice, they have been restoring what was lost in the Garden of Eden, in the run-up to the final act when the curtain is drawn and the author steps onto the stage to finish the divine makeover.
The truly great mysteries are not about what we will be, but what we are; not about the “there” and “yet to come,” but the here and now — that we are children, bearing the image of our Father, who abides in us and has entrusted us to impart his glory throughout every dimension of human existence until, as Dallas Willard puts it, “what God wants done is done” on earth as it is in heaven.
Why we are so privileged is the greatest mystery of all.
Regis Nicoll has been the lay pastor of Hamilton Anglican Fellowship for five years. He writes Christian commentary for BreakPoint, Crosswalk and Salvo magazine. His wife, Joanne, writes young adult fiction; daughter Devon is a violinist in Washington, D.C.; and son Alex is a Marine Judge Advocate General currently serving in Okinawa.