How a Choir Retreat Prepared Me for Heaven

This past Saturday, Josiah was gone all day at a retreat with his children's choir.  Since the retreat was held at a camp, the choristers were taken by bus from the university where they normally meet, out to the camp, and were returned the same way that evening.  Because Jeff and I were having a date anyway that evening, we decided to just swing by the pick-up spot on our way home from our date and get Josiah.  When we pulled into the parking lot a few minutes before the scheduled time for the kids to arrive, I glanced around the lot and smiled at the sight of so many minivans and other vehicles...and I wondered if the parents waiting in those cars were as eager for their children to return as I was.  Had they missed their children, too?  Did they want to hear every little detail about how the day had gone?  Was their list of questions as long as mine?

When the bus pulled in, car doors began to open and parents walked over to where the bus was going to stop.  Meanwhile, on the bus, children worn out from a full, strenuous, exciting day suddenly perked up and sat straighter to peer out the windows and try to spot their mom or dad.  And then, gloriously, the bus parked and opened its doors, and the stream of children came forth.  I wasn't doing a scientific survey, but it seemed to me that nearly every child rushed to a waiting parent, and hugs were given freely as happy greetings were exchanged.  As I watched this happen and waited for Josiah to descend from the bus, I wondered idly if he would be that excited and would give me such an enthusiastic hug.  I know Josiah is very loving and affectionate, but I also know--or so I've heard--that at a certain age, a boy begins to limit the amount of physical affection he expresses or is willing to receive in public.  If and when Josiah hits that stage, I want to be respectful of that.  With those thoughts in mind, I waited.

And then he came.  

A big smile on his face, arms held wide, coming quickly towards me, straight into the biggest hug I could give him.  It was so, so sweet, and you can imagine how happy it made me.  :)

The next morning during our church service, we were singing a worship song (I can't even remember which one), when suddenly, with extreme clarity, the thought entered my mind that I want my entrance into heaven to be like that.  

When Death, the final bus driver, pulls up and opens the door for me to get off, I want to RUN straight into the arms of my Jesus.  I don't want to creep fearfully up to the gates, unsure of my welcome there.  I want to be fully convinced that Somebody is waiting for me and that He can hardly wait for me to come!  I am certain that heaven will be an AWESOME (in the true sense of the word) place, and that the majesty and holiness and brightness and beauty of the Almighty God will be overwhelming and overpowering, maybe even to the point of knocking me flat on my face.  If that's my first experience in heaven, so be it.  I won't complain.  ;)

But when I think about my journey into heaven, the image I'd rather hold to is Josiah looking out the window, spotting me waiting for him in the parking lot, breaking into a huge smile, and then racing to give me a hug and tell me excitedly about his big day.

As my death approaches, I want to be keeping a look-out for Jesus; and when I spot Him, I hope to run faster than I ever have before:  straight into His arms.

That's how a choir retreat prepared me for heaven.  I think I'll just add that to my list of Why I Love the SVCC.  ;)