I was speaking to a friend the other day who is getting up in years. As we talked, he turned the conversation toward his death, making the statement, “I know when I get to heaven, I will have some questions!” His words stuck with me because I have often considered what I would want to ask God when I get there myself.
God, how exactly did you part the Red Sea?
What did Joshua’s face look like when you appeared before him as Captain of the Lord’s Hosts?
How fast was David’s heart pounding when he stepped onto the battlefield against Goliath?
How did you direct the great fish to swallow Jonah then spit him out?
What were Peter, James, and John thinking on the Mount of Transfiguration with you and Moses and Elijah?
I will tell you what I am hoping. With all of earth’s technological advances, I am pulling for heaven to be outfitted with a celestial DVR displayed on a supernatural IMAX pumping out angelic surround sound. As I ask God these questions, I can picture in my mind his voice say, “Pull back the curtains. Roll the video.” Then I am there, taking in the plague of flies in Egypt, watching in slow motion the collapsing walls of Jericho, overlooking Daniel in the lion’s den, or shaking with Paul and Silas in the earthquake in the Philippian jail.
At least that’s what I think I will do. More likely, I will bow. Fall down in adoration. Worship. On this side, I think I will have questions. On that side, I am sure I will have all the answers that matter. On this side, longing. On that side, satisfaction. On this side, restlessness. On that side, eternal peace.
If we have questions then, I am sure he will have answers. What I believe with confidence: we will certainly have the most important and central answer, Jesus himself. And while I like to think we may get to watch heavenly recordings of the miracles of old, I know we will be grateful for the miracle of being there, in his presence. And that may well be all the answer we need.
Typestry 