And the nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it. Rev. 21:24.
A popular joke tells about a heaven that perpetuates the old prejudices of earth. According to the joke, a Baptist heaven has lots of water and everyone dunks everyone else into it. In the Pentecostal heaven everyone raises their hands in the air, dances around, and falls over. There is Catholic heaven and Methodist heaven and so on. The joke is funny because in our heart of hearts we somehow know that God will abolish such distinctions in heaven. In the New Jerusalem people of every background will live together and will have learned the joyous acceptance that is in Jesus.
In the waning days of apartheid in South Africa, a White pastor drove home from church after an evening meeting. Halfway home on a four-lane highway he rode over hundreds of nails, experienced the consequences, and pulled to a stop. Seconds later two men came out of the darkness and attacked the car with crowbars, trying to force their way into the car. They managed to open one door and slashed the pastor's wife. The whole time, White members of his congregation rode past on their way home. An old Zulu man who arrived in a beat-up, rusted old truck finally saved the pastor and his wife.
It is interesting how our definition of an outcast changes from generation to generation. The parable of the good Samaritan does not trouble us as long as we don't meet any Samaritans! But if Jesus were to retell the story today, how would He bring it home to us? Would the assaulted man be ignored by a televangelist and then the pastor of a megachurch? Would the Samaritan be replaced by a homosexual or an Islamic terrorist? The prejudice-free future of our text challenges us to take the principle and apply it to whatever circumstance we meet. We tend to be blinded, however, to our own version of the "outcast." The North Dakotan may be appalled by a White New Yorker's prejudice against Blacks, while holding similar prejudices against Native Americans. The New Yorker's attitude toward "yokels" from North Dakota may well be the reverse.
Even in the church we draw differences between people on the basis of how they interpret certain details of our doctrines, how they look when when they come to church, where they live, or whether or not they clap their hands after a stirring musical performance. The gospel calls us to anticipate the glories of the New Jerusalem in the way that we treat people today. Jesus accepts us in spite of our own peculiarities and continues to work with us to recreate us in His likeness. The best way to learn the love of Jesus is to treat others the way He has done us. That principle is at the heart of the life of heaven.
Lord, open my eyes to the hidden prejudices that govern the way I treat others.
A popular joke tells about a heaven that perpetuates the old prejudices of earth. According to the joke, a Baptist heaven has lots of water and everyone dunks everyone else into it. In the Pentecostal heaven everyone raises their hands in the air, dances around, and falls over. There is Catholic heaven and Methodist heaven and so on. The joke is funny because in our heart of hearts we somehow know that God will abolish such distinctions in heaven. In the New Jerusalem people of every background will live together and will have learned the joyous acceptance that is in Jesus.
In the waning days of apartheid in South Africa, a White pastor drove home from church after an evening meeting. Halfway home on a four-lane highway he rode over hundreds of nails, experienced the consequences, and pulled to a stop. Seconds later two men came out of the darkness and attacked the car with crowbars, trying to force their way into the car. They managed to open one door and slashed the pastor's wife. The whole time, White members of his congregation rode past on their way home. An old Zulu man who arrived in a beat-up, rusted old truck finally saved the pastor and his wife.
It is interesting how our definition of an outcast changes from generation to generation. The parable of the good Samaritan does not trouble us as long as we don't meet any Samaritans! But if Jesus were to retell the story today, how would He bring it home to us? Would the assaulted man be ignored by a televangelist and then the pastor of a megachurch? Would the Samaritan be replaced by a homosexual or an Islamic terrorist? The prejudice-free future of our text challenges us to take the principle and apply it to whatever circumstance we meet. We tend to be blinded, however, to our own version of the "outcast." The North Dakotan may be appalled by a White New Yorker's prejudice against Blacks, while holding similar prejudices against Native Americans. The New Yorker's attitude toward "yokels" from North Dakota may well be the reverse.
Even in the church we draw differences between people on the basis of how they interpret certain details of our doctrines, how they look when when they come to church, where they live, or whether or not they clap their hands after a stirring musical performance. The gospel calls us to anticipate the glories of the New Jerusalem in the way that we treat people today. Jesus accepts us in spite of our own peculiarities and continues to work with us to recreate us in His likeness. The best way to learn the love of Jesus is to treat others the way He has done us. That principle is at the heart of the life of heaven.
Lord, open my eyes to the hidden prejudices that govern the way I treat others.
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