Daddy’s House

Thinking about heaven again the other night, I asked the Lord to show me something about himself in heaven. Throne room, habitation, something. Where in heaven do you stay most of the time, I wondered? And in what form?

I was remembering my own and other people’s accounts of majestic throne rooms, powerful angels and worship music.

Office, the Lord said. That’s more like my official office, not official residence.

He then showed me an ordinary looking house with the front door standing open, and invited me to go inside. There was an ordinary living room, with sofas and chairs and end tables. Welcome to my house, he said, and I realized that he looked sort of ordinary too. Sort of…

Father? I asked him, wanting to be sure it was really him. This doesn’t look like any palace, or castle, or throne room for a sovereign king, I said. It looks too — ordinary.

He just nodded, smiled and said, Um hm. Not what you visualized, is it?

No, it sure isn’t, I replied. I continued to glance around as he invited me to sit down across from him.

He didn’t say anything else for a moment, just leaned back and let me get comfortable, feel the warmth of the place, the welcoming, comforting, cosiness of it.

If you were visiting your grandparents, how would you approach it? he asked me. Would you knock on the front door, ring a doorbell and wait for someone to come to the door?

I thought about that.

No, I said, I’d just open the door and walk on in, maybe call out Anybody home? If I didn’t see Mimi I’d walk on through to the kitchen looking for her. She’d probably ask if I wanted something to eat, tell me there was a cake or pie, biscuits or something in the cupboard and to go rummage for myself.

He nodded in agreement. Would you hesitate to do all that? If it was your grandparents’ house?

No, I’d feel I was welcome to treat the place like it was my own home, and that’s what I would do.

Yes. And that’s how you should treat my house here, too, the Lord said. You’re welcome any time, the door is open, just come on in and make yourself at home.

He continued, if your granddaddy was sitting in his rocking chair, how would you approach him?

I didn’t even have to think about it. I’d go sit on his lap, give him a hug and kiss his cheek or something. He’d hug me back, maybe dig in his pocket for a quarter or a dime and hand it to me with a twinkle in his eye.

Well, that’s just how you should approach me, the Lord said. This is my house and it’s your house, come in and get comfortable, feel just as welcome here as you felt there.

Wow, this sure is a different way to look at heaven, I thought. A wonderfully different way. I could almost feel his strong arm circling my shoulder, his hand patting my arm like granddaddy used to do, as I drifted off to sleep.