Spurgeon on Heaven

This past weekend, God provided the opportunity for me to be at my great aunt's bedside as she passed away. An hour and half before she passed away, God provided the merciful opportunity to share my Jesus with her. On top of that, God granted me the amazing opportunity to share Jesus with my entire family at the graveside service. God is so MERCIFUL, in spite of me!

That said, I have been contemplating the reality of death this week. Death is a certainty for us all. We cannot escape it. Life is a vapor. Yet it does not have to be lived apart from HOPE. Where there is hope, there is life.

Today, I ran across this excerpt from a sermon by Charles Spurgeon on biblebb.com. I highly recommend this site! It made me not only think about the beauty of heaven (aka CHRIST!!), but also how I might go on living. If only I could have the grace to live and die preaching about the beauty of CHRIST. And when my body is placed in the earth, to have my tombstone continue to PREACH! It is only by grace that something like this could happen. In the grande scheme of things, nothing else will hold weight. Our home is in heaven, and we should LIVE LIKE IT today! Why is that so difficult for me to do??

Anyway, here is Spurgeon. He puts it a lot better than I could ever dream of, of course! Enjoy! I would love your comments.

"But, methinks, there are two funerals for every Christian: one, the funeral of the body; and the other, the soul. Funeral did I say of the soul? No I meant not so; I meant not so; it is a marriage of the soul for as soon as it leaves the body the angel reapers stand ready to carry it away. They may not bring a fiery chariot as erst they had for Elijah; but they have their broad spreading wings. I rejoice to believe that angels will come as convoys to the soul across the ethereal plains. Lo! angels at the head support the ascending saint and lovingly they look upon his face as they bear him upwards; and angels at the feet assist in wafting him up yonder through the skies, And as the husbandmen come out from their houses and cry, "A joyous harvest home," so will the angels come forth from the gates of heaven and say, "Harvest home! harvest home! Here is another shock of corn fully ripe gathered in to the garner."

I think the most honourable and glorious thing we shall ever behold, next to Christ's entrance into heaven, and his glory there, is the entrance of one of God's people into heaven. I can suppose it is made a holiday whenever a saint enters, and that is continually, so that they keep perpetual holiday. Oh! methinks there is a shout that cometh from heaven whenever a Christian enters it, louder than the noise of many waters. The thundering acclamations of a universe are drowned, as if they were but a whisper, in that great shout which all the ransomed raise, when they cry "Another, and yet another comes;" and the song is still swelled by increasing voices, as they chant, "Blessed husbandman, blessed husbandman, thy wheat is coming home; shocks of corn fully ripe are gathering into thy garner."

Well, wait a little, beloved. In a few years more you and I shall be carried through the ether on the wings of angels. Methinks I die, and the angels approach. I am on the wings of cherubs. Oh, how they bear me up—how swiftly and yet how softly. I have left mortality with all its pains. Oh, how rapid is my flight! Just now I passed the morning star. Far behind me now the planets shine. Oh, how swiftly do I fly, and how sweetly! Cherubs! what sweet flight is yours, and what kind arms are these I lean upon. And on my way ye kiss me with the kisses of love and affection. Ye call me brother. Cherubs; am I your brother? I who just now was captive in a tenement of clay—am I your brother? "Yes!" they say. Oh, hark! I hear music strangely harmonious! What sweet sounds come to my ears! I am nearing Paradise. þTis e'en so. Do not spirits approach with songs of joy? "Yes!" they say. And ere they can answer, behold they come—a glorious convoy! I catch a sight of them as they are holding a great review at the gates of Paradise.

And, ah! there is the golden gate. I enter in; and I see my blessed Lord. I can tell you no more. All else were things unlawful for flesh to utter. My Lord! I am with thee—plunged into thee—lost in thee just as a drop is swallowed in the ocean—as one single tint is lost in the glorious rainbow! Am I lost in thee, thou glorious Jesus? And is my bliss consummated? Is the wedding-day come at last? Have I really put on the marriage garments? And am I thine? Yes! I am. There is nought else now for me. In vain your harps, ye angels. In vain all else. Leave me a little while. I will know your heaven by-and-bye. Give me some years, yea give me some ages to lean here on this sweet bosom of my Lord; give me half eternity, and let me bask myself in the sunshine of that one smile. Yes; give me this. Didst speak, Jesus?

"Yes, I have loved thee with an everlasting love, and now thou art mine! thou art with me." Is not this heaven? I want nought else. I tell you once again, ye blessed spirits, I will see you by-and-bye. But with my Lord I will now take my feast of loves. Oh, Jesus! Jesus! Jesus! Thou art heaven! I want nought else. I am lost in thee!

Beloved, is not this to go to "the grave in full age, like as a shock of corn," fully ripe? The sooner the day shall come, the more we shall rejoice. Oh, tardy wheels of time! speed on your flight. Oh, angels, wherefore come ye on with laggard wings? Oh! fly through the ether and outstrip the lightning's flash! Why may I not die? Why do I tarry here? Impatient heart, be quiet a little while. Thou art not fit for heaven yet, else thou wouldst not be here. Thou hast not done thy work, else thou wouldst have thy rest. Toil on a little longer; there is rest enough in the grave. Thou shalt have it there. On! on!

"With my scrip on my back, and my staff in my hand,
I'll march on in haste thro' an enemy's land.
Though the way may be rough it cannot be long;
So I'll smooth it with hope, and I'll cheer it with song.