Sometimes I wish I could think simply, like a child, free from decades of mental detail. It’s easy to surmise, assume and guess about the way things are, but often I’m wrong. Ever since Nate died, my thoughts have leaned toward heaven, trying to imagine what his life there is like. But how accurate are they?

I often wonder how God could ever extend the privilege of heaven’s utopia to ordinary humans. We’re hopelessly flawed and completely undeserving. And of course if it weren’t for Jesus’ willingness to pay a sky-high price for our entry, we wouldn’t have a hope of ever living there.

This morning my day began by reading a thrilling blog-comment left by “Beth Jones” in response to yesterday’s post about not losing heart. Here’s part of it:

“[My husband] Bruce preached a funeral message Saturday that focused on Psalm 116:15 ‘Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints.’ His last point was about the joy and excitement of our Lord to have us come home to Him with nothing in the way of perfect fellowship with Him. How delightful it is to think of His joy in our coming home… from His perspective!”

When I read this, I got goose bumps. In all my thinking about heaven, I’d always pictured Jesus as the giver and me as the getter. What could I possibly give him that could matter at all? It had never occurred to me he might rejoice to see me coming as if given a gift. Such a thought seems prideful on my part.

What I now understand, however, is that his joy in receiving me and all other Christians is rooted in the enormous investment he made to save us from eternal destruction. Our arrival into heaven is inextricably linked with that sacrifice, which is why he’ll be happy to see us when we arrive.

I can hardly take it in!

I emailed Beth, who talked to Bruce, who emailed me back. During last weekend’s funeral, he expanded on those thoughts: God created us in his image with the intention of having an eternal relationship with us. Until I’m standing in front of him, looking into his eyes and talking with him face-to-face, there will always be a barrier to our relationship, a distance between us.

As Bruce said, it’s because he loves us so much that his heart will “rejoice when we die and are finally home with him.” And that’s why our deaths are labeled “precious” in Scripture.

In recent weeks half-a-dozen elderly “saints” from my childhood church have died, people I grew up knowing and admiring. We’ve joked about a Moody Church reunion going on in glory, with Jesus in the middle of it. I can picture these friends huddled in a circle, arms around each others’ shoulders, jumping up and down as one unit of boundless exhilaration with Jesus the most enthusiastic of all… because they’ve come home to him.

Maybe as I picture that uncomplicated scene, I’m finally “thinking simply,” just like a child. Every little kid loves a party, and I’m glad my invitation to that one is safe and sound.

“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” (Psalm 116:15)