Your Father’s House
Heaven. It’s your glorious unending. Your forever home. The place your faith becomes sight. I’m so grateful we’re spending the next six weeks in Heaven together! (Grin!) So settle in, take a deep breath, and let’s start. (You’ll notice at the beginning of each day I’ve written a prayer based on the Scripture in parentheses. Let these prayers prepare your heart for each day of study.)
Lord, guide us through Your Spirit to know truth and understand Your holy Word. Amen (John 16:13).
As I write this, I’m standing at my glass-top desk, feeling the warmth of sunlight bathe the room.
Sometimes I stand here in my office and sense the soft afternoon light seeping through the window. Though I can’t see it, I know it’s there, and I lift my eyes and imagine what lies beyond the pane. In my mind’s eye I see the carpet of grass and the unruly limbs of the lazy oak that often scrape my window frame on a windy day. But then I imagine beyond; I see the blue flowers.
Full disclosure: there are no blue flowers outside my window, but I’m looking way beyond my front yard. I’m casting my imaginative gaze to a faraway place where I dream blue flowers grow.
You see, the blue flower in literature represents longing. It was a central symbol of the Romanticism movement, portraying a desire, yearning, and love of the eternal.2 And oh, how I ache for the eternal. C. S. Lewis called himself, “a votary of the Blue Flower.”3
But here’s the thing: my physical eyes can’t see a blue flower. A degenerative retinal disease caused me to lose my eyesight when I was fifteen, so I have lived in physical darkness longer than I ever lived in physical light. And quite honestly, I don’t even have a good visual memory of a blue flower. But my fingertips have brushed the delicate petals of a blue hydrangea. I have breathed in its sweet, subtle fragrance. This has awakened in me a beautiful longing for that which I can’t even see.
It awakens what no eye has seen—images of Heaven, the place where I hope blue flowers grow.
It’s interesting that often what we see or feel here awakens in us a longing, a desire for there, for Heaven. Even the temporary pulses with the echo of the eternal. Even the tangible can quicken our heartbeat and cast our gaze toward the transcendent. Yet what our hearts long for, no eye has ever seen.
Could that be what Paul was talking about in 1 Corinthians 2:9?
Let’s see. (pg.14-15)
I’ve always thought this verse was talking about Heaven. I’ve even heard sermons where the preacher used that verse to explain how beyond our imagination Heaven must be. Yet when we read verse 9 in context, we see Paul was using Old Testament passages (Isa. 52:15; 64:4) to explain that now, through the Holy Spirit, believers can see with enlightened eyes God’s wisdom in Christ. Only eyes opened by the power of the Holy Spirit can see such beautiful mystery.
So, spoiler alert. Verse 9 is not talking about Heaven. It’s referring to the gospel.
Finding out that verse isn’t about Heaven might be a little alarming, especially if, like me, you thought it was. But don’t you just love learning how deep and beautiful its actual meaning is? And isn’t it exciting to find out we have so much to learn, and maybe unlearn, about Heaven?
Can we apply the “no eye has seen . . . [what] God has prepared” idea of that verse to the mystery of Heaven? And can we let it be the fragrance of a blue flower awakening our longing for eternity? Maybe so, if we listen to the One who has actually seen what our eyes have not. (pg.16)
I call my earthly father “Hero Dad” because he was. Though I lived thousands of miles away, knowing my dad was home in his house in Florida brought me such a sense of security. I knew I always had a place in my father’s house. Even as a married woman, knowing he was there brought me such comfort. This was never more obvious to me than when he was no longer there. That home didn’t feel the same. Even though my mom was still there, the anchor, the cornerstone, the one who gave it foundation and stability was gone.
You may not have an earthly dad who brings you that kind of security and comfort. If so, I’m sorry, my sister. I can only imagine the hole in your soul that loss represents. However, you have a heavenly Father who loves you perfectly, and it is His presence and the certainty that Jesus has prepared a place for you in His house that can help bring your soul stability.
Jesus used figurative language to communicate what our dwelling with God will be like.
In most modern translations (CSB, NIV, ESV, NASB), it says there are many rooms in the Father’s house. But in the KJV, mansions was how it was translated. So, maybe you’ve grown up thinking we get a palatial dwelling with opulence and a coffee bar! (Okay, the coffee bar is my idea of Heaven.) That wasn’t the point Jesus was making though.
The Greek word for house in the phrase my Father’s house is tē oikia, which can be used to communicate a physical house or a family.4 Hmm. Perhaps the message here is not about rooms or mansions or dwelling places but about identity and family? You belong. I belong. There is plenty of room. We are family, and we have a home.
Oh, my friend, whatever wonder our eyes have seen here dims in light of what God has prepared for us there. Whatever beauty I imagine in the hue of a blue flower is sepia tone compared to the radiance that will burst forth before my seeing, enlightened eyes in Heaven.
So, we begin this study by acknowledging the great mystery of Christ crucified, raised, and glorified, and we anticipate the great mystery of seeing Him face to face someday—when our faith becomes sight.
Through the coming pages of this study, we’ll pick apart Scripture to understand truths about our glorious unending, our risen life after death. But why we do this needs to be super clear.
Our compassionate Savior knew the troubled hearts of His disciples needed comfort. His words about His Father’s house affirmed and assured them of the truth that there was far more to this life than the uncertainty they felt. This same truth can untrouble our hearts, too. (pg.17-18)
All right, we’re done for now, so go pick a blue flower (or find a picture of one) and study the fragile strength of each perfectly designed petal. Physically or imaginatively breathe in its fragrance and cast your gaze far past it to that place, the place God has prepared for you, the daughter He loves. Be comforted and strengthened today.
Tomorrow, ice cream. Really.
“ . . . and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” PSALM 23:6 (pg.20)
