By Sandra Bost
Daddy’s sweet wedding was this past weekend. The months of planning culminated in a beautiful covenant. Seeing them stand before the Lord, surrounded by their family and special friends, was a vivid reminder of the truth that our life’s work on this earth never truly ends while breath remains. Even into our old age, we aren’t just spectators of His grace; we are active participants in His purposes, and beneficiaries of His promises.
Popa’s great-grandchildren had the joy of being the flower girls and ring bearers. The three girls in their flower crowns and flowy dresses with tiny embroidered flowers were darling. But, it was the two little boys in blue that stole the show.
A twenty-five minute ceremony is a lifetime for little ones. Clad in their tiny suits and matching golf caps, it wasn’t long before ‘The Haberdashery Hustle’ began–a giggling competition between 3 year-olds to see who could shake their hat off the most times before the final prayer.
Our daughter and son sang a beautiful rendition of “The Prayer” (Dion/Bocelli) and mashed it with “The Blessing” (Jobe/Carnes/Bocelli). It was a precious time of worship during a private communion between the bride and groom. The presence of Jesus was evident as the congregation joined in song–mixed with quiet tears and soft laughter.
One of the most meaningful moments, for me, was a conversation I had with my daughter after things were winding down. It involved a teachable moment she had with her Middle as her five-year-old heart tried to find the common ground between missing her Great Granny and loving Ninny.
While Sweet Middle was observing her Popa dance with his new bride, she leaned in close to me with tears forming in her big brown eyes and said, “I miss Granny.”
My heart grieved with her as I said, “So do I.”
When she returned to her mommy’s side, after being comforted by the best poppy, she asked if Granny missed her, too. In that moment her wise mother chose to plant a seed of the wonderful Truth of Heaven–a foundation upon which her daughter’s heart and mind could build a stable Faith.
It would have been easy to say, “Yes, Granny misses you, so much,” but that is not true. While it is a sweet sentiment that our loved ones “watch over us” when they go to Heaven, it downplays the even sweeter scriptural reality. Instead, our daughter risked offending her baby by telling her the truth. She said (something like), “No, Baby, Granny loved you very much, but she is so happy with Jesus right now, she does not miss this world or anybody in it.”
The Bible teaches us so many things about death and Heaven for those who are sealed unto Jesus. 1 Corinthians 5:8 reminds us that the minute we take our final breath on this planet, we are immediately in the presence of God. If we investigate further we find that in the presence of Jesus we are filled with Joy (Psalm 16:11). This reality suggests that those who have gone before us are not looking back at the shadows of this world, but are fully captivated by the Light of His face, filled with Joy.
The other scripture – that for me says it all – is found in Revelations 21:4. I love Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase of that verse. He says, “He’ll wipe every tear from their eyes. Death is gone for good—tears gone, crying gone, pain gone—all the first order of things gone.” The first order of things–this Earth with all of its worry and work–gone.
If Heaven is truly the absence of sorrow, how can our loved ones be spectators of our earthly trials? It is not Biblical. While God occasionally pulls back the curtain for the living (Jacob, Stephen, and John), He never depicts the departed looking back at the world they left behind.
Maybe it’s time we retire the well-meaning cliché that our departed are “looking down” on us. Why would we want that for them? Imagine them trying to enjoy the glories of Heaven while simultaneously stressing over our burnt toast, traffic jams, and grieving hearts. Instead, let’s honor them in their “glorious distraction” by being the ones who keep our eyes fixed on the same Truth that now captivates them.
Watching my family gather around our patriarch, I realized that our purpose persists as long as we have breath. Our assignment matures with age into the vital work of guiding every generation toward the Truth. Even when the conversations are difficult or the theology feels heavy, leading our children toward a sorrowless Heaven is more than a duty–it is a joyful partnership with a Savior whose promises never fail.
As we navigate the sweet middle of our own journeys, may we rest in the beauty of the covenant–knowing that every day we spend modeling His faithfulness is a day spent preparing the next generation for an eternity where every tear is finally wiped away. That is the Truth our children can build their life upon.
