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Those Mansions
We are in a time of troubled hearts. We ask a lot of “why's” or "why me’s." What is going on? How many millions have been dissolved of their lives in just a few weeks because of a incontrollable virus. Who is this virus? Why now? There are so many billions of humans on this planet - 7.8 billion in fact - and that number is all of a sudden being reduced fast as a snap. Here today. Gone tomorrow. Why another virus? Another illness? Another thinning out of the population, mostly lovely, helpless and aged persons weakened by their organs fading in function.
And we wonder has God sufficient dwelling places up in heaven? As recorded in the Gospel of John 14:1-14, Jesus told his disciples that His Father has many dwelling places prepared for us. Jesus promised He had it in His hands and not to worry. But are we prepared to go? Jesus alerted his disciples that He was leaving earth for the trip back to heaven to continue to prepare that eternal place for us. I gather that already there were those created since time began for Adam, Abraham, Sarah, Moses, etc. Of course, in the current moment of this conversation, Jesus was talking to a small group, his disciples, but we have been assured by popes, priests and preachers that Jesus was talking about all of us because anyone who believes, will have for eternity the same glorious place in the heavens around the lap of Father God. And I believe one way or the other, we all will become believers.
I began to ponder this promise. (This usually happens in the middle of the night when I hear Fedex cargo planes flying right across our ceilings - it gives me peace, even hope, to hear those motors). Wait a minute, I thought. Giant hotels that reach to the stars, packed with people? or internment huts like we used to store our own Japanese during World War II? Or, worse, think of metal, airless, noisy prisons or desert shelters for families escaping abuse by unfriendly governments. We know these on earth. But how does God and his angels manage the masses of believers. That’s us.
Jesus, who has been here and knows the needs of mankind from experience - for He walked the dirt roads in sandals and had to find places to lay his head in a hostile environment - promised “I go to prepare a place for you.” Not only that. He promised He will return to gather up his followers alive and dead so that we can all be together always. Now I wonder if that is only the small group who believed in Him then, or will it include all of us who believe in Him now as well. And will the gates of Heaven welcome us no matter who or what we are, when we are innocents wandering into a new home, a new experience, having just left the security and attention, or not, of a kind of love that gave us hope throughout our lives, and who had trusted words from the New Testament that have held us up like the backbone of Jesus?
He also reminded his followers “I am the way and the truth and the life.” Jesus doesn’t touch on what happens to those who don’t know and love him, nor follow and proclaim him. To the disappointment, I’m sure, of Jesus, the disciples kept insisting ‘Show us the Father.” After all that had happened and they had experienced with him, they still could not comprehend that Jesus, their friend and companion , was the Way to the Father. If that’s too tough of a stretch, He tells them, then just “believe in me.” And that is all the entryway needed to enter the heavenly kingdom.
 I wonder about the millionaires down here on earth who live today in mansions that house gyms, basketball courts, indoor pools, giant theaters, a garage packed with expensive cars, mini golf courses - two or three people living in something the size of a fancy chain Hotel. Meanwhile, a few blocks away there is ultimate poverty - beautiful but sad people living exposed to the elements, with no electricity, or water, with no jobs, with no joy, or joy that we who have everything could identify with. And even more, in my experience, there is no one so close to God as the African-Americans and Latinos who live out their faith daily. I admire their strength and devotion. They live Jesus.
When I was a fresh 21, I traveled to and lived in Africa. It was unique for a white woman of my age in the 1960s - only the Peace Corp was giving it a shot. I went alone. I wanted to know the Africans since I had been raised by many of them whose ancestors arrived on American shores as slaves. The experience was extraordinary even though I had a treacherous case of malaria in Nigeria and Cameroons, and hepatitis on arrival back in Memphis. But I adored the Mbulu tribes and the Masai of then Tanganyika, whose land we lived on, caring for coffee plantations on “Shambas”. Daily, the Masai wrapped up in a rust brown piece of fabric, on their feet were sandals made of old tire treds, and they could stand on one leg all day chewing a nut and balancing on a trusty spear chatting with anyone they might pass on the road. At times they were shepherds to skinny cattle. It was such a simple life, and no one complained. They were who they were and they took life day by day doing without electricity or water jugs or any dot of luxury. But they tended their herds, and if there was a Muslim around, then they could slaughter a skinny Zebu steer with a holy chant so all could share in its tough meat. (The Muslim had to cut its throat before it died so the meat would be holy.)
When the European nations began to invade and colonize African lands, which was brutal on many fronts, Christians stepped on the dusty soil and tried to reform, civilize, turn the living faith into one supposedly honored the real God. And the priests powered down their lives from giant cathedrals and civilization and lived simply in huts where there was nothing familiar, neither food, water, climate, conversation. Many couldn’t hack it and died. And yet, it seemed to me, the wonderful tribes of Africa taught the holy priests who God really was. It was a two way sharing. A blend of faith. The Mungu or Bantu God in East Africa lived atop Mount Kenya. And they believed there is no beginning or end to the universe. We can all learn from each other and we have, so that today, 75 per cent of the Anglican-Episcopal Church is made up of Africans.
When I watch on TV the extreme masses of people, say, at the wedding of a British noble, or a photo shot of thousands of people protesting or sitting in an enormous stadium, at a soccer for football game, and at inaugurations day of a new president - so many humans packed into every ounce of space seemingly a swarm of ants - and I wonder - how will all of these and me get into heaven. I know there is nothing I can do about the end because I have been here 80 years and whatever the destiny, it’s already mine. But we all who love each other and know the Lord and trust the words of Jesus must just let it ride because once we are dead on earth, we are over with. And hopefully, someone has taken our hand and pulled us up off of this tiny earth into that enormous universe to lead us to the mansions our precious Jesus promised would be there for us and there will be no more poverty or pain. It will all be so new and so extraordinary and so whirling in love that it is beyond our imagination. I just pray that we reunite with those whom we have loved and who have loved us in a whole new experience where God blesses us all the time. We are and always will be in His Hands. Thank you Jesus.
~ Rev
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audrey@audreytaylorgonzalez.com
www.audreytaylorgonzalez.com
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