Life in the hereafter

Only three days ago, four Norwegian soldiers were killed in Afghanistan, their lives brutally cut short by a roadside explosive device, probably a mine. 


The incident jerked us out of our relative complacency, poignantly reminding us that the seemingly all-encompassing welfare state benefits and the most ingenious insurance programmes cannot shield us from the sometimes devious plots that life thrusts upon us.


PAYING NO SMALL PRICE


These young men all died while, professionally, doing their utmost to safeguard the fragile and imperiled state of peace in one of the safer corners of this failing state of Afghanistan. That is, the province were the Norwegian contingent has been stationed these past years has, until now, been regarded by analysts and military experts as a relatively tranquil spot in this ocean of trouble and tragedy. But despite tenaciously following any thinkable safety precaution on their travels, no one could save the lives of these fine soldiers once their car had hit the mine.


I don't know any of the four who were pointlessly and viciously murdered by Taliban adepts. I don't know if they were prepared to pay the ultimate price for their commitment to their work. I don't know their motives, whether they were ambassadors for altruism or simply adventure-seekers whose futures blew up in their faces without notice or premonition. And I am completely in the dark as to what awaited them behind death's door.


I AM NOT IMMORTAL.....YET


Like these soldiers who have now crossed this eternal border between the living and the dead, I know, too, that I am mortal. I certainly don't expect to suffer a fate similar to theirs, but I wasn't born into this world with a life-time guarantee that - come what may - I will reach old age undisturbed and vigorous. Statistically, Norwegian males live until well into their late 70s. I may or may not be among them, although for my wife's sake, and for the sake of my children and possible grandchildren, I certainly hope and pray that I won't die prematurely. 


I want to go to heaven, but I'm in no hurry to get there. Life is still so rich. There are yet a host of moments to be cherished and enjoyed. And there are anniversaries, celebrations, family events and glimpses of God's greatness that I don't want to miss while I'm still in this lanky frame of mine.


NO ONE REALLY KNOWS


What heaven will be like? I haven't really got a clue. I have never been blessed, or tormented, by supernatural visions penetrating the confines of the physical world, allowing for astounding insights into a dimension that so many people speculate about, that some even claim to have visited briefly - only to be returned to earth despite fierce protests or desperate appeals to be allowed to stay on. Some have even posted their testimonies of alleged visits to heaven on Youtube, thus making it possible for you and me to be edified by the contents of their heavenly travelogue.


I cannot vouch for the veracity of these tales of the unknown, these fantastic stories that enthrall the believer and half-amuses the sceptic. Regardless of what or where heaven is, I am confident of one thing: it cannot possibly be as dull and commonplace as some Medieval pieces of art suggest, namely that heaven, or eternity, means sitting perched atop a fluffy cloud, idly strumming away on the only available heavenly instrument: a harp. As if this isn't scary enough, the artists have gone to troublesome lengths to portray the only intelligent life form coexisting with the hapless and megabored saints: chubby, sickly-pale angels in horrifying numbers.


Why on earth should anyone in their right minds, and hearts, want to spend forever in such a drab, disillusioning and disconsolating environment? Thousands of Christians die each year as peaceful martyrs because they choose to testify about their faith rather than remaining silent when faced with death threats, or when charged with apostasy from the beliefs handed down from their forefathers. What a horrid, rude awakening, indeed, if all they would find on the other side were a sorry bunch of lethargic angels!


GETTING SNEAK PREVIEWS FROM THE GOOD BOOK


Frankly, the Bible has something to say about the subject. And what Scripture hints at, makes me more than slightly motivated to make it to this mystical abode in the skies. Because if the Good Book is anything to go by, and I do think it is, we're in for some shockingly powerful times of reunions, rapturous parties without end,   and visual and auditive wonders defying description.


Apart from getting to experience the wonder of seeing Jesus for the very first time, the idea that appeals most to me is that of reunions. I've lost quite a few loved ones over the years, my father being the most painful addition to this harrowing list of departed people. Two years after his death, I still smart silently - most days - from not being able to communicate with him anymore. He was perhaps not an exceptional man in any respect, but he was my father all the same. And for that I loved him. And because I still love him I want to reach that place where, according to the Lord himself, there'll be no cause for the perennial pain resulting from the separation that no man, power or institution can avert.


So, faithfully I'll be trudging along, in faith, making the most out of life while at the same time bearing in mind that one day in the near or far future will be my last. And then....I'll know what heaven truly is like.