Heaven Explained in Fewer Words Than Your Coffee Order
Written by Emma McCoy
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Already & Not Yet
A very popular view of heaven is removed, celestial, and serene: we’re all going to be living in clouds in the sky with halos and wings, singing vaguely Americana hymns forever. If that’s the case, I’m not sure if I’m particularly interested in heaven (besides, if you can’t sing or play a harp, what are you going to do?). This view of what heaven is like comes from the Greek Gnostic tradition that postulates the soul as separate from the body, and it was cemented in Christian imagination through a variety of sources ancient (Dante’s Paradiso), and modern (The Far Side cartoons).
Philipp Veit (1793–1877), Jupiter, Paradise (1817-27), fresco, Casa Massimo, Rome, Italy.
If this is what you’ve grown up with, you’re not alone—most American Protestants have this image in their minds. From Dante’s Italian poetry to Bugs Bunny cartoons, the wings and haloes have reigned supreme in the cultural imagination.
But a removed view of heaven lends itself to the view that God is removed as well. That the power of God is somewhere far above us, reaching down occasionally, but largely unrelated to what we’re doing day in and day out. If heaven is celestial and spiritual and far away, then it can’t have much to do with this earth and all its dirt and pain.
Thinking about heaven like this keeps us further away from what the Kingdom of Heaven is doing right now, and what it hopes to do soon.
This is where we arrive at where Heaven really is; rather than it being somewhere high up and removed, think of our existence more like a Venn diagram. One circle is Heaven, and the other is Earth. There’s a little bit of overlap, and that’s where we find the already, and the not yet. I highly recommend checking out this video from the Bible Project if you’re more of a visual learner.
What if Heaven is right here with Earth, straining to break in and become one place again?
Heaven isn’t up in the sky; it’s as close as our next breath, moving to restore everything that’s broken about our world. On one side of the Venn diagram is Heaven, where everything is as it should be. On the other side is Earth, where we have hangnails, murder, cancer, and grape-flavored candy mixed up with all the good stuff. The overlap? That’s where Heaven and Earth touch each other. On that ground we find the cross. We find miracles, forgiveness, impossible cures, and the glory of the church. If I wanted to be quippy I’d say we could also find potatoes, which I believe are God’s gift to humanity.
Here’s the paradox that lies at the center of this understanding of Heaven:
Heaven is already here, but it’s not yet here.
Because it’s fully true that Jesus has given us the Holy Spirit, and we are to participate in what the Kingdom of Heaven is already doing in our world. But it’s also fully true that our world is still broken, and redemption hasn’t happened yet. How does that make sense? Welcome to a paradox, where we are living in this tension, both participating in the Kingdom, and waiting eagerly for it to arrive and transform our world.
What this understanding of Heaven and our world does is give us perspective and hope. When we are able to notice how the Holy Spirit is moving, we can participate and witness the little breakings of Heaven into our world. How hopeful is that?
I felt some of that last weekend. Now that I’m back in Bellingham, in addition to finding work as a freelancer, finishing my novel, and physical therapy, I’m also trying to make friends. I’m not sure if you’ve recently experienced being in your twenties and trying to connect with others, but it’s pretty tough. I’ve been in school my entire life, which is like jumping into a social jar and being shook up. Without school, I have to work pretty hard to put myself in new situations, start conversations, and try to meet people. It’s a vulnerable, difficult thing. I’ve been visiting some other churches looking for folks in my age group, and I’d mostly experienced exposure, some cold shoulders, or indifference. Yippee.
But last weekend I tried again. I went to a new church, parked my car, and took a deep breath. I’d prayed the entire way there, baring my wants before God. I wanted to be acknowledged. I wanted to have conversations. I’d like to meet someone who could be a friend. If you’ve been reading these blogs for a while, you’ll know that friendship is a deep joy and deep wound for me. I’ve been hurt badly before, but I still desire close, joyful friendships. So I prayed to God, feeling like I was throwing myself in the deep end again. I got out of my car, feeling cautiously cute in some new shoes, and tried again.
It couldn’t have gone better. I talked to several girls my age and hit it off with all of them. I was invited to a small group. I exchanged numbers. I felt incredibly welcomed and safe—none of the exposure I so usually hate. As it turns out, the pastor knows my dad! And someone knew my brother Jackson! I’m very excited to go back and see what God might have for me.
Now, it doesn’t always go like this, something that I’m painfully aware of. But I’ll tell you this: on the drive home, all I could do was praise God because I was overwhelmed with joy. It was a moment where the glory of Heaven shone through; my prayer had been answered, and I felt like a complete, valuable human. What a special moment, to get to experience the hope and wonder of Heaven!
This is what it is to know that Heaven isn’t here yet, but is close enough to reach out and nearly touch it.
Is there a moment this week where you can pray and ask the Spirit what’s going on around you? Can you pray to be shown a glimpse of Heaven? Maybe you can come to Spring Church this Sunday, where we’re talking about how hope is the desire for God’s future to come now. I promise that hope is closer than you think.
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About the author
Spring Church member, Emma McCoy (M.A.), has two poetry books: This Voice Has an Echo (2024) and In Case I Live Forever (2022). She’s been published in places like Across the Margin, Stirring Literary, and Thimble Mag. She reads for Chestnut Review and Whale Road Review. She’s probably working on her novel right now. Catch her on Substack: https://poetrybyemma.substack.com/