Heaven

 It's one of those rare moments I'm wishing, as I sit there, that I could bottle up and save forever. Even that I could give out in doses to those who aren't here in this little church in Alaska, allowing them even a taste of what I'm feeling, hearing, seeing in this span of time. There are about two hundred of us gathered here, assembled to honor the life of one of the most well-loved musicians in this area. Janet gave over forty years of her life to music education and involvement, pouring herself into the lives of people all over this place for decades. As someone puts it during her memorial service, "she may not have been the best cook, but she fed us... with her music."   

Apparently music was Janet's thing early on. She took piano lessons as a kid and played alongside her siblings while growing up. Music would continue with her through college, becoming a military spouse, moving to Alaska and, even more impressively, raising two kids as a single mom after losing her husband suddenly back in the late 1980s. Her ability to play and her love of sharing her simple faith and enjoyment of music with others kept her going and gave her purpose, even in the seasons of her life that were hard. And that is why this room is filled with music teachers, university faculty, church people from all over, and dear friends from out of state - because they've all come together to say thank-you. To show Janet and her surviving family our gratitude for all of the years she did, indeed, feed us with her gift and her passion. 

This sanctuary is filled with more talent than I'll probably ever see in one room ever again. There is piano music, chamber music, choral music, acapella music. Interspersed among some sacred readings and shared memories are these beautiful numbers that lift the soul... and, the fact that this church has some pretty awesome acoustics that make anybody sound good certainly doesn't hurt either. There is even some spontaneous music that breaks out partway through as well. The atmosphere in this room is soul-lifting. The sounds of voices and instruments coming together to honor a life well-lived and I can't help but think to myself: this must be a taste of what Heaven will be like. 

Attending three memorial services in about a month has me thinking a lot about Heaven these days. As it probably should. All of the pain and sorrow and division of this broken world causes me to long for the day when God will wipe all of our tears and we will forever live in peace and joy. But it also has me realizing that Jesus proved it was possible for Heaven to invade earth and for us to experience a foretaste of what awaits us eternally. And I think this is why He told us to pray "Thy kingdom come... on earth as it is in Heaven" (Matthew 6:10). He didn't want us to simply wait until we die to finally experience what it's like where He is - He wanted us to seek out these moments of holy invasion where we could find ourselves lifted to a place of wholeness that would make us desire that feeling forever - a brief closeness with God that would somehow make this journey through life earth just a tad more palatable. 

As I sit in this room with all these amazingly gifted people from all walks of life, all races, all ages it just gives me this beautiful picture of what it's going to be like when God gathers everyone together and we sing the endless song forever of the goodness of God. It also gives me hope that, even in this divided world we live in, moments like this can bring us all together and allow us to unite around something bigger than ourselves. I know full well, as a musician, that you can't be an independent individual and still sing in a choir or play in a group. You will stand out like a sore thumb if you try to do it alone and can't come together with the rest of the people you're working with. And I see the metaphor as I take all of this in: God calls us to set aside our egos in favor of a bigger story. If we wish to taste more moments like this, we must get outside of ourselves and surrender to the One who unites us around His love. 

Even as the service ends and I begin to make my way around catching up with old friends, the lyrics and the truths and the sounds I have just heard for the last hour-and-a-half still resonate deep in my bones. This has been a worshipful experience - a true reminder that, for those who believe, we do no mourn without hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Moments later, as I visit out in the church lobby with someone I haven't seen in years, I glance into the sanctuary and the sun has now hit the stained glass windows just right so that the entire room where we just all were is filled with color and light. A fitting ending to some precious and holy moments shared with people I may or may not ever gather with again. 

I leave the church pondering the fact that yes, life is indeed hard. Goodbyes are hard. Changes are hard. It asks a lot of us on a regular basis, and nobody comes through this world without some wounds. But the challenge at all times is to ask ourselves how we can turn these moments of sadness into something of an offering of praise. To worship through our griefs and trials in such a way that Heaven meets us here on earth and allows us to see something bigger that our problems is in motion... that the redeeming work of Grace is always happening, and even the angels are leaning in to see what God will do next (1 Peter 1:12). Even our broken path is still strewn with many blessings and much beauty, and it is our choice if we will decide to seek and find it.