by I was going through a Kikuyu songbook that my grandparents used to sing from. What struck me was the number of songs about heaven. Those saints were obsessed with going home. Heaven was their hope and they lived with that hope, which gave them joy and strength in a life that was anything but easy.
They knew what the writer of Hebrews knew when they wrote: “For here we have no lasting city, but we seek the city that is to come” Heb 13:14.
This is the city on whose eyes were the patriarchs. Of them Hebrews once again records: “These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak this make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city” Heb 11:13-16.
Puritan pastor Richard Baxter prayed: “May the Living God… Make these our carnal minds so spiritual, and our earthly hearts so heavenly, that loving him and delighting in him may be the work of our lives.
Commenting on the life of Baxter, JI Packer wrote: “The hope of heaven brought him joy, and joy brought him strength, and so… he was astoundingly able to labour on, accomplishing more than would have ever seemed possible in a single lifetime”.
Today for many of us, our Christian hope is established in this life. It is to find happiness and success here, rule here, reign here and advance here and have it all here. We no longer long for heaven. We no longer sing about heaven. We rarely think of our existence here as aliens, foreigners, homesick to be with Christ.
The Gaither Vocal Band sings of heaven:
“Home is where the heart is, my heart’s own home
Though I never really had one to call my own
I’ve been given a key by the Carpenter of Galilee
With interest paid the title’s made to me
Home, where there is no night
Home, where the Son is the light
The place I’ve been dreaming of so long
Loved ones there to welcome me
But His sweet face will be the first I see
When my journey’s over I am going home”.
How can we reorient our gaze back to that which is eternal, rather than that which is temporary and here? As today’s church we could learn from.these older saints – the patriarchs, the writer of Hebrews, the Puritan pastor, those who wrote the songs my grandma sang — how to live with a joyful anticipation of heaven. This hope, to which we have been called, will bring us joy and strength to labour for the days we are here, eyes always on the city God has built for us.
