7 Lessons From Heaven

by Mary C Neal

  I considered counseling, but if you live in a small town, you can understand that finding the right fit can be tough. I struggled to find someone who understood the myriad issues related to grief, and also someone with whom my children would be willing to talk. Then, when we needed it most, God sent a small miracle my way. I “just happened” to bump into a colleague I hadn’t seen for a long time. He knew of a visiting sports psychologist who experienced his own journey of grief after the death of his child. This psychologist subsequently met with my kids, with Bill, and with me. It proved to be a remarkable experience. Bill and I were having difficulty talking about Willie’s death face-to-face. But with the psychologist in the room, our conversational dam broke. Speaking to him, rather than directly to each other, felt different and safe, and we were finally able to talk openly about our pain. We only met with him once, but the effects of his counsel have been long lasting. I have subsequently encouraged grief counseling to many suffering families, even if on a limited basis. Even one visit with a trusted pastor, friend, or counselor can change the course of grief.

  WHAT WE LEARN: REST IN THE ARMS OF GRACE

  I’ve noticed that regret and remorse are often causes of people becoming emotionally stuck after the loss of a loved one. Grieving friends and family members often feel a deep sense of disappointment and sorrow at the things they didn’t say or do before the loved one died, or remorse for the things they did say or do. We are all haunted by those two little words: “If only…”

  We often subconsciously believe that time moves forward only for us—that there will always be more opportunities to visit, to express ourselves, and to make amends. After a lifetime of opportunity, we are stunned that the chance to ask questions, discuss something important, get to know each other, or resolve issues is forever gone. Some worry that their loved one did not know how much they were loved. Others regret not being able to express forgiveness, or to be forgiven.

  The words Loretta wrote to me paint a piercing portrait of this kind of remorse:

  I lost my brother nearly five years ago, and my grief is unrelenting. He suffered schizophrenia and had lived with me for seventeen years after both of our parents had passed. The psych meds gave him a quality of life, but I didn’t know they were crippling him. I insisted he take physical therapy in a nursing home, and he succumbed to infection after fourteen months. I never dreamed he would not come back home.

  I spend every day, almost every minute, thinking of him and thinking about better choices I should have made for him. Does my brother know how much I loved him and miss him? I blame myself and my stupid choices for his death.

  If you find yourself pressed down by a heavy burden of remorse and regret, I certainly understand. Whenever I feel all tangled up in this kind of angst, I return to the amazing grace I felt in Jesus’s presence during my life review. And I reach again and again for the promise he repeatedly showed me that God’s plans for each person and for the world are plans of hope. God’s spiritual offer invites us to put down what we did or didn’t do and open our arms to receive His extravagant grace and unfailing love. Forgiveness is not just a platitude and God’s grace covers it all. I have found—in my life and the lives of so many others who are hurting—that when we embrace God’s heart toward us, we discover what we need to live with the burdens we bear. Only then can we discover the strength to make the most of whatever time we are given.

  It’s a vulnerable place to live—the place where our pain, divine comfort, and the fleeting gift of time so powerfully converge. I lived in this tender place for many years, dreading the worst, hoping for the best.

  If that describes your journey today, I encourage you to do what I did.

  Day after day, rest in God’s heart. No matter what unfolds, know that you are welcome there. You are fully embraced by grace. You are cradled in the place where healing begins.

  WHAT WE LEARN: JOY, NO MATTER WHAT

  Many aspects of my grief were no different from those of any other mother who has lost one of her treasured babies. At the same time, I also had a very different experience from most of them. I never felt guilt, anger, or despair after Willie’s death, but saying this does not make me special or extraordinary in any way. It only means that my time in heaven profoundly changed my perspective about life and death and greatly confirmed my trust in God’s promises. I wish these same things, even in small measure, for you and everyone who experiences sorrow in whatever form.

  Even on my lowest day, I remained full of joy. Does that sound impossible? I was certainly extremely sad, but happiness and joy are two very different feelings. Happiness, the opposite of sadness, is an emotion arising from circumstances. As circumstances change, so do our emotions. I might feel happy when the sun is shining, I have been exercising, my family is healthy, I talk with a close friend, or I have no financial anxiety. And I may feel unhappy when I am worried about something at work, someone hurts my feelings, my computer crashes, or I get a speeding ticket.

  Joy, in contrast, is a state of being that is unshaken by trials or circumstances. It is based on a trust that God means what He says and that His promises are true. For people of faith, joy springs from an internal experience of an external, higher reality upon which we lock our gaze. That’s why the first Christians who were imprisoned for their faith could “count it all joy” (James 1:2–3). That’s why Jesus could know joy even as he walked to the cross (Hebrews 12:2).

  I recently watched a major league football game, and I watched a player catch the football deep in his team’s half of the field. As he began running toward the opposite end zone, he encountered other players trying to tackle him. He moved to the right, to the left, jumped up, spun around, and went through all sorts of maneuvers to evade his tacklers. Rather than focusing on these obstacles, he kept his focus on getting to the end zone. The touchdown he scored was his priority—his “big picture”—and the various maneuvers were his moment-to-moment circumstances.

  Nothing I do and nothing that occurs in my daily life changes the eternal nature of God or His promises to me. Sometimes the circumstances of a given day bring me happiness, fun, and excitement; other times they bring me anger, sorrow, loneliness, or confusion. Regardless of what I experience during these individual days, weeks, or even years, I know that they do not reflect God’s eternal plan for my life. It is this confidence, this absolute trust in God’s eternal plan that allows me to transcend my daily circumstances and experience joy, regardless of my situation.

  My joy is based on the certainty that there is a God who is real and present in the world, knows each of us individually, loves each of us deeply, and has a hope-filled plan for our life. It is based in the knowledge that every situation and experience on Earth is temporary. And every situation and experience is preparing us in some way for our future. As the apostle Paul wrote, “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:17–18).

  HOW DOES IT FEEL TODAY

  I know I’ll see Willie again when I next return to heaven. Still, I miss my son’s physical presence terribly. I recall the beauty of his eyes, his goofy laugh, and I wish he could be with us when we go on family trips and have new adventures. We all do. Some days, we ponder the future he didn’t have, wondering what sort of husband and father he would have been, and imagining the ways he would have changed the world.

  While time has not erased my heartache, my trust of God’s promises has eased its intensity and allowed me to weave Willie’s death, like all of life’s experiences, into the fabric of my life. In fact, I believe my continued focus on God’s promises rather than on my personal sadness not only helped me “survive” my son’s death, but propelled me into God’s plans for my future.

  Novelist Eva Ibbotson wrote, “You cannot stop the birds of sorrow from flying over your head, but you can stop them
nesting in your hair.”1 I never wanted a future without Willie, but I’ve found that leaning on God’s promises during this journey of grief has prevented the birds from taking up residence.

  The fact is, we all still have work to do. God is not done with any of us, and as we focus more fully on His promises rather than on ourselves, the fears that hold us back will inevitably dissolve. We not only free ourselves from despair, but we open our hearts to the joyful life God intends for each one of us. I found that during this time of loss, I was greatly comforted by leaning on the lesson that beauty blossoms in all things.

  Every Easter morning, Christians the world over rejoice as we remind one another that death has been defeated. “Christ is risen!” we shout with hearts full and hands held high. What an astonishing triumph! What a celebration!

  But how can we plant the beautiful truths of resurrection, the reality of heaven, and the certainty of God’s unfailing love like seeds into the rich soil of our everyday lives?

  Turn the page. In Part Two, I’ll show you how to do exactly that.

  PART TWO

  Chapter 13

  HOW TO LIVE WITH ABSOLUTE TRUST

  “Trust in the Lord with all your heart

  And lean not on your own understanding;

  In all your ways submit to him,

  And he will make your paths straight.”

  —PROVERBS 3:5–6

  If you look carefully at every account of a visit to heaven or, for that matter, at any honest story about an experience of the supernatural, you’ll discover a secret, very personal opportunity shining out from each one. You could call it “the right-now promise of heaven,” and it goes like this:

  If heaven and the supernatural are that close right now,

  And if God is that real and that good and that loving toward me right now,

  Then I can surely live more fully and more joyfully…right now.

  Does that promise intrigue you?

  If the “right now” promise seems far-fetched for you, it’s not. But it is an all-or-nothing proposition. Both feet in. Your life and mine today can look radically different because of the reality of heaven. Or you can decide you’re mildly intrigued by the stories…and walk away unchanged. If you walk, you would be deciding that every account, including mine, falls into the category of heartwarming stories—sweet, something you might even return to in the future, but not something that alters your thinking and remakes your heart and soul.

  In this chapter and those that follow, I want to show you how your life can be different because of what you’ve discovered. I want to rescue you from a sweet but ultimately unimportant story time for grown-ups.

  Make no mistake, this is extremely serious business. Today, I know without a doubt that this world is separated by the thinnest of veils from the next, and that both worlds belong to God. I know now that you and I already live right next to, even inside of, eternity, and that one day, the veil between it and time—along with all its schedules, clocks, tragedies, and eons of history—will vanish. On that day, everything that happened in time will be made good, right, and beautiful by God Himself.

  That’s what heaven makes abundantly clear: God’s extravagant love permeates everything and embraces everyone and all peoples, including you and me—and love will definitely win in the end!

  Every chapter leading up to this one has been my attempt to accurately convey my experience in this regard. I want to show you that the astonishing but true lessons of heaven are intended to refashion how we understand our world, here and after death, and how we relate to the divine every day. We could summarize them like this:

  • Circumstances are seen differently through the lens of heaven.

  • Death is not the end.

  • God is love, and forgiveness sets us free.

  • Heaven is real and grace abounds.

  • God wants to be seen and shows His presence in our world through miracles.

  • God has a plan for us that is one of hope, purpose, and beauty.

  • In God’s time, beauty blossoms in all things.

  Each of these seven life-altering lessons we discussed in Part One are contained within God’s promises that heaven is real and death is not the end, that He knows us and loves us, that He is present in our world, and that He has an all-encompassing plan for us that is one of hope. They are meant to change our way of life.

  I call this transformed way of life, living with absolute trust. You and I aren’t left here on Earth to simply press on in the hope that God is true, or even to cling to a correct belief that God is true. Instead, we’re invited to lean wholly and confidently—in absolute trust—on God’s unfailing promises.

  Changing what we base our life on—from hope and beliefs, to an unshakable trust in the truth of God’s promises transforms almost everything about daily life, yet most people avoid doing so. Every person is capable of making this transformational change—and thankfully, it doesn’t require a traumatic experience like mine!

  The wonderful news is that the promises of heaven are meant for everyone, and they’re intended to transform how we live now in very practical ways: how we listen for God during the course of our day; how we welcome success and overcome defeat; how we make decisions; how we face challenges like the death of a loved one; how we approach our work, raise our children, interact with people around us, and pursue our dreams. And so much more.

  Can you make this transformation without an out-of-body experience? Most assuredly, yes. You can wake up to the reality of God alive and active in your day, starting right now.

  THREE STAGES OF FREEDOM

  The universal starting point for this journey toward reconnection with the truths of heaven is found in that little spark of anticipation we all feel when we first wonder if God’s promises just might be true. That interior yearning indicates that your heart has already opened enough to consider the possibility that God is what heaven reveals, and that His heart toward you is one of extravagant, enduring, and unconditional love.

  I’m not talking about “getting religion,” by the way, or embracing another Brand X spirituality. When you consider how many people on Earth profess to believe in all the right ideas, or who pin their hopes to some spiritual practice, creed, or ritual, yet whose lives just don’t change that much, you have to admit that something is missing. Why are so many spiritually well-intentioned people stuck?

  What’s been most helpful for me is to rethink three common words we use to describe how we relate to God—hope, faith, and trust. These words are found in the sacred texts of most religious traditions. Christians cherish each of them, and for good reason. We hear them preached. We sing them in church. But what do the words really mean?

  Maybe you’ve noticed—we use them somewhat interchangeably. Confusing things further, they can be interpreted so many different ways that we can end up not really knowing what we mean, or for that matter, why we can’t seem to get unstuck in our spiritual experience.

  By carefully naming—or renaming—how we relate to God, I aim to help you reevaluate your actual experience and show you as plainly as possible how to access the new way of living that you’ve always wanted. I’m talking about hope, faith, and trust, not as theological terms but as levels of personal conviction.

  Stay with me. If you look inside these words with me, I’ll show you in very practical ways how to unlock the reality and power of heaven in your life today.

  Let me talk about each level one at a time. For most of us, they describe a sequence.

  We Start with Hope

  Thankfully, most people on Earth have hope. Hope describes a feeling we have that if we just keep going, good things will come our way. Hope is like oxygen—we need it just to keep going. We express this kind of hope when we say, “I hope we’ll have good weather this weekend.” Or “I hope you do well on the test.” Or “I have high hopes for next year.” We are describing something we anticipate—maybe a lot.

  Of course, the reason we hope
for something is that, actually, we’re not sure it will happen. When we whisper a bedtime prayer, go to church “because that’s what our family does,” or cruise through life believing that, if there is a heaven or a God, we’re probably fine because we can always point to someone who’s lower on our ladder of ethical behaviors…that’s hope. Hope is nonspecific. Hope works as well for skeptics as it does for believers.

  Ultimately, hope translates to “Maybe yes, maybe no.”

  But when hope is as far as we go in our relationship with God, or how we respond to His promises, then hope comes up short. Hope becomes more like wishful thinking than a life-changing conviction. We might feel reassured at times, but what about the times when hope fades, when we don’t feel reassured?

  Do you see what I mean? If hope is all we bring to the question of God, the reality of miracles, and the promise of heaven, we’re not likely to change how we think and live, even if we want to.

  That’s why, as a word to describe a spiritual conviction, I think of hope as a place to start but not to stay. Positive feelings, a wish, or a longing are nice, but rarely solid enough to be transformative. A wish or a longing doesn’t tend to last when the storms of life rage.

  We Graduate to Faith

  In my experience, the next step toward leaning entirely on God’s goodness is one we often call faith. Again, to be clear, I’m not using this word in the rich theological sense so important to Christianity—for example, what St. Paul meant when he wrote, “By grace you have been saved through faith,” or what the writer of Hebrews meant when he declared, “Without faith it is impossible to please God.”