The hope of heaven on a Monday morning

The Monday Morning Blues reared their ugly head this morning. An exciting and busy weekend, and one tired boy who didn't want to go to school.

He wanted me to say he could stay off. I wasn't about to say that. We talked and we talked some more.

'I wish it was Saturday. It's my favourite day.'
'It's everyone's favourite, but we have to go through Monday to get there.'
'Why are weeks longer than weekends?'
'Well, you know, when we get to heaven, every day will feel like Saturday or Sunday.'
'It's not as good as being alive though.'
'What? It will be even better! Anyway, didn't you know, God is going to fix this world, put everything right. '
'When it breaks?'

'It's already got plenty of broken bits, like sickness (and Monday mornings.) '

I was challenged recently to think more about heaven - to daydream about it, let it capture my imagination, to analyse and question it: to consider it, like Paul apparently did, because he could say things like:
'I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us' ( Romans 8:18). Then there's 'for our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all' (2 Corinthians 4:17). If you're like me you want to say 'light? Momentary?! You're kidding, Paul.'  But then, you see, I think I'm too good at considering the wrong end of the equation. I need to daydream about heaven.

They say the best way to teach your children about your faith is to share what you are learning and living. So I decided to practise this with Alice. I grabbed a book called 'The Garden, the Curtain and the Cross' by Carl Laferton. It's a lovely children's story which outlines the story of the bible from beginning to end. The illustrations are gorgeous. The one I wanted was at the end - it depicts a garden, with a hill where a bright light shines. There are trees and flowers and a pathway. There's a man, dressed in gold, shining white, riding a horse, and he is calling his friends, dressed in white, to come in with him to the garden. In other words, it's a portrait of Revelation 21.

'Alice, come and look at this picture with me. Isn't it beautiful? Look, have you ever seen a picture of Jesus looking like this before?'

'No. He looks a bit like a duck because he's yellow.'