Heaven (Part Five)

I wanna try to help connect you to the feelings of what it will be like when we get to heaven.

Here's an example:

Do you remember the airline pilot named Chesley Sullenberger who landed U.S. Airways flight 1549 into the Hudson River back in January 09? A flock of Canadian geese flew into the jet engines and cut all power to the aircraft. Sullenberger glided the plane gradually into the Hudson River and saved the lives of 155 people.

Imagine getting together in the July 09 reunion with the other survivors. Pilot Sullenberger walks into the ballroom hosting the event. Once people notice he's walking into the room an applause builds quickly. The applause doesn't stop after some sort of polite formality. The applause, smiles, and teary eyes (I'm sure) goes on for a while. More than a polite thank you. Next, people start going up to him and thanking him individually. One guy's wearing a T-shirt with Sullenberg's name on it. Smiles. Emotions. Tears, I'm sure. It's wonderful, emotional, and some sort of a sense of closure or at least connection with the other survivors.

In heaven, there will be a moment when Jesus walks into the ballroom. We'll know in that instant what He's done for us. Applause will build up rapidly. Smiles. Tears. Shouts. The applause will get louder. The crowd will be endless and the power of our applause will be like thunder or ten thousand horses running over the hills of Ireland. We will start to get a little out of hand. People raising each other up onto the top of the crowd. Groups in the hundreds of thousands jumping up and down like a group of football players preparing to enter a stadium. All kinds of cultures and their various styles of celebratory cries and hollers. You'd think the applause would start to die down at some point, but it gains momentum. It gains even more power, waves of cheers going to and fro. Time appears to be so unimportant in this new land and most of us lose track of it. A year seems like a thousand. Who knows how long until the applause dies down. We're exhausted. We're exhilarated. And, I'm not sure how it works, but somehow in the middle of the electricity, power, cheer, and applause...

We find ourselves in a personal moment with Jesus. We get to talk with the one who saved our life. The volume level of the millennial party is still ear piercing, but for some reason, it all fades away into the background and all is still. A quiet conversation with Him. We get to say everything.