Amy Boucher Pye

Tag: heaven

  • An Embassy of Heaven by Catherine Butcher

    No Place Like HomeHome as a taste of heaven – I love this from Catherine Butcher. Heaven is a topic she loves to think about, speak about, and write about, and her blog on home radiates with a glimpse of its glory. Take a few moments to ponder and wonder, and join us in thinking about home and heaven and feasting together at the table.

    Not long after we were married, friends who stayed overnight wrote a kind note in our guest book. They described our home as ‘an embassy of heaven’. I’ve carried those words for more than a quarter of a century now. They are as challenging today as ever. What makes a home ‘an embassy of heaven’?

    IMG_2386A British embassy overseas gives visitors a tiny taste of Britain – everything is quintessentially British. Sometimes that means cocktails on a perfect lawn or tea and cucumber sandwiches. But in many parts of the world the embassy is a refuge; a place of peace and sanctuary for Britons stranded in foreign lands.

    And that’s what I want our home to be. A sanctuary and safe haven. More than just a place to shelter. A place to be totally relaxed. Always welcoming. Always nourishing.

    Our kitchen table is the heart of our home. As soon as we could afford it we extended the compact kitchen so we could eat meals there. Later, we made further changes so there’s room to extend the table fully and entertain guests. That table is the setting for my happiest memories. As a family we’ve laughed ‘til we’ve cried. We’ve prayed in good times and bad. We’ve debated and discussed everything from future dreams to family finances.

    IMG_2410But the table could be anywhere. What makes it home is the people seated round it. Home has been a caravan in a field; a picnic table in a forest. I could adapt that Marvin Gaye lyric (later recorded by Paul Young) – ‘Wherever I lay a table, that’s my home’.

    Reading The Sacred Romance by Brent Curtis and John Eldredge helped me to understand why I feel so happy sharing a meal with the people I love most around a table. They pointed to Ecclesiastes 3:11, and Eldredge’s subsequent volumes continue to explore the conclusion of that first book: ‘Our longing for heaven whispers to us …’

    christmas dinnerWhen Jesus said, ‘I go to prepare a place for you’ he was talking about our heavenly home, our safe haven, where we will be fully known and fully accepted just as we are. In heaven, with Jesus, we will never feel like the outsider or the unnecessary extra. Each of us will know he has included us on purpose, not by accident. When we take our place in heaven it won’t be like one of those parties where you wander into the crowded room and wonder who to talk to or where to sit. Jesus is waiting to welcome the citizens of his heavenly kingdom, not formally, but as family. There won’t be an embarrassed shuffling of seats to squeeze you in. He has already prepared a place just for you.

    Our longing for that heavenly welcome whispers to us. Jesus very deliberately chose a meal around a table as the setting to remember him. One day we will sit together at a heavenly wedding supper for Christ and his bride.

    Home is where we have a foretaste of that welcome – and I want every family member and guest to feel that ‘welcome home’ as they walk through the door.

    IMG_2387Catherine Butcher is HOPE’s Communications Director, author of several books and co-author with Mark Greene of The Servant King and the King She Serves, published by HOPE, Bible Society and LICC as a tribute to the Queen on her 90th birthday. Her book What you always wanted to know about heaven – but were afraid to ask (CWR, 2007) is now out of print but is still available from Catherine. Find her on Facebook or email cathbutcher@live.co.uk to buy a copy.

  • Devotional of the week: An eternal perspective

    For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands. Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, because when we are clothed, we will not be found naked. For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. Now the one who has fashioned us for this very purpose is God, who has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come (2 Corinthians 5:1-5)

    A taste of heaven, from the altar at St. Peter's Basilica.
    A taste of heaven, from the altar at St. Peter’s Basilica.

    A couple of years ago, I ended our Christmas missive with a reflection on the fragility of life, for one close to us was killed in a car accident. I didn’t know that as I composed the letter, a beloved older friend was near death, having suffered a stroke. We often live in a state of denial, but for everyone, one day our earthly tent will be destroyed.

    Yet Paul here speaks to the Corinthians about longing for his heavenly dwelling, which God the Builder and Architect has created and which moths and rust will not destroy. It’s another variation of the already-not yet which we spoke of in previous weeks. We mentioned how we have been redeemed but are not yet completely sanctified; here we note that we groan on earth as we anticipate the wonders of heaven. Namely our rich communion with God.

    I love how Paul reverses the wisdom of the world with his phrase, “swallowed up by life” (in contrast to death being the great swallower). All the remnants of our old self – the mortal – will be swallowed up by the true and everlasting light and life in our heavenly dwelling. We will no longer be naked and ashamed, but clothed in a better outfit than we ever could have dreamed of.

     

    Prayer: Lord God, help me to live with an eternal perspective today, remembering that people and your word will be all that remains eternally. Plant in me the hope of heaven, which you promise will not disappoint.

  • Kindred spirits

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    “Heaven will be a grand reunion with people who might have become dear friends, had circumstances/geography/time not limited us.”

    So said I to a woman I had only ever met once by email when interviewing her for the Woman Alive Book Club that I run. I had read her spiritual memoir and resonated deeply with her story, and when we exchanged emails I felt that instant knowing of someone who just gets you. Someone with whom you share similar loves and interests (God, books, culture…). Lest you fear I’m some strange stalker, she felt the connection too.

    Have you had that experience of an instant soul friendship? Sometimes I’ve thought I should feel this almost inexplicable link with other people who are in similar life circumstances – whether we both work with words or are married to a clergyman or live as an ex-pat. But that’s not always the case. There’s that extra “something” with some other friendships that seems to bind our hearts and minds at a deeper level.

    I’m finding it hard to write about these soul connections, because I don’t want to devalue the friendships I have with people who are different from me, who challenge me in ways that someone cut out of more similar cloth might not. Friendship is a gift in whatever its form or depth. Nor do we have time for endless numbers of friends either; we live within boundaries and limitations.

    Which takes me back to my opening line about heaven. In heaven I reckon we’ll all have soul connections with each other. We won’t be limited by space or geography or time. We’ll know and be fully known. We’ll look into the eyes of our sisters and brothers and see all that is good and true and beautiful about them. How they are made in the image of God and how they reflect that beauty. And as we feast together – never over-indulging nor worrying about excess calories – we’ll rejoice in unity and communion and that mysterious one-with-God-and-each-otherness.

     

    What about you? Have you had this experience of instantly knowing, at some sort of deep level, someone else?