I grew up saying that I wanted to go to heaven, after all the alternative was not good. But heaven didn’t seem that great either. Discussions regarding heaven were serious and dry; leaving little room for fun, laughter and unscripted delight. Heaven was portrayed as an eternal song and prayer service; sounding alarmingly like what I was experiencing each Sunday as the congregation mindlessly sang hymn number 106, “He Lives”, week after week.
Heaven felt serious, robotic and lifeless. Life felt the same way.
My idea of heaven is changing. Dramatically. My hope is expanding to see heaven as a place where joyful worship is expressed by being fully alive. My anticipation is that the full glory of Jesus as Creator, Lord, Savior, and Father, will be revealed in countless scenes of spontaneous delight.
And that hope is stirring my desire to be playful. In heaven. To run, leap, bounce, dance, twirl, and wiggle without reservation in eternally fresh meadows.
And since play is best when shared, I want to play with others in heaven. I considered Moses; but he might use his rod to my disadvantage! Peter is too competitive (and besides I don’t enjoy fishing). Paul is too intellectual, and would win any argument (er… discussion!) that might rise between us. David would work, but he is a king, and playing with a king doesn’t seem proper.
And then there’s Jonathan.
Jonathan intrigues me as a great, sometimes overlooked, man from scripture and history.
He was destined to be king. But he willingly surrendered to God’s greater plan and became defender and best friend to David; knowing that David would rule in his place. Jonathan risked his life for the one he could just as easily hated as being his competition. He was unashamed to share tears of sorrow and compassion.
His father was insane; yet Jonathan honored him. Even though his father tried to kill him, Jonathan still fought as a valiant warrior in battles against his father’s enemies.
Jonathan must have had a heart of deep passion to live with such fierce loyalty, honor and love. Jonathan truly lived.
I want to play with Jonathan.
And here‘s how I see this going down: in the eternal future Jesus sidles over to me, nudges me in the side and whispers , “hey, see that guy over there with his back to us? That’s Jonathan, go get ‘im, he‘ll love it!”
With moves I never knew I was capable of, I run at him, tackle, and body slam him to the ground, where we wrestle and laugh and enjoy. No introductions are needed. I’ve read his story. And somehow he knows mine.
Jesus stands there, clapping his hands and throwing his head back in laughter as he watches us being the children he created us to be.
And that moment of un-self-conscious play becomes a moment of being fully alive, a moment of worship.
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