All
I knew, all I wanted to know, was that this experience, whatever it
was, was too magnificent to come to an end.
I
realized at that instant (ah! there it is again - a pesky reference
to time!) that if this, the smallest bit of Heaven, was so
enthralling, so captivating, so... wordlessly satisfying, that the
rest of it must be beyond comprehension.
Heaven
- a word to name a place, diluted by overuse, losing its meaning over
time and endless repetition - was impossible to stereotype.
I
supposed that the very attempt to make it meaningless was part of the
the strategy in the long war against the God of Heaven. What
can't be eradicated, trivialize. What can't be trivialized,
stigmatize, and what can't be stigmatized, marginalize.
"Clever
boy," he said from next to me. "Did you just come up with
that?"
"You're
snooping again," I said, not looking over at him. "It's
rude. It's not polite to be rude. Glorified men should be polite. And
what, there's no right to privacy here?"
"In
a place where Omniscience reigns, privacy is irrelevant. Plus, it's
not needed here. Everyone wants to know as they are known."
I
sighed. "I get the distinct sense that I won't be staying here
for long. Is that true?"
"Yes.
You are on a kind of weekend pass. A tourist, and not the first. And
certainly not the last."
"Will
I be able to speak of this when I get back? The Apostle Paul said
that his experience in the Third Heaven was not lawful to speak
about."
"Our
beloved brother Paul was taken right to the Heart of Heaven, as was
John the Elder. I'm sorry to say, you're not even in the parking
garage."
"That's
OK. I'll take it. Do I have to go back?"
I
was whining. We both knew it. I was only slightly ashamed.
"Yes.
But when the time comes, you will understand, and have no regrets."
"So
why I am here? Why not just leave me on the planet until my body
revives or is resuscitated? Why give my a taste of what I can't
keep?"
"You've
got it wrong. You asked for this. You prayed for it; for
comfort, for assurance, for a glimpse of what it's like. So He has
granted it to you because He loves you, and delights to give you the
desires of your heart. But more than this glimpse you could not
handle. So, as in all things, he has given you only what He knows you
can bear."
"Why
you, then? Why not one of my departed relatives? Why not anybody else
besides me, er, you?"
"I
volunteered. I wanted to be your guide. I like you."
"I
don't get it. Not any of it."
"Of
course not. You are a finite being on the edge of the Infinite.
Nobody expects you to get it, not right away; least of all me."
"Hang
on! Is that an insult?"
He
smiled that smile again. I ignored it. Mostly.
"What's
next?" I asked.
"I
would like to direct your attention over there," he said,
pointing somewhere beyond the endless horizon.
© Bill Lilley 2011, 2013
