After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb… –Rev 5:9
Train yourself in godliness, for, while physical training is of some value, godliness is valuable in every way, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come. –1 Timothy 4:7b-8
We don’t normally think of “training” for Heaven, do we? Typically, we think of training for something that is going to be challenging, or difficult–and neither of those is words we associate with the life to come for those who trust in Jesus. I hope we don’t think that there’s going to be some kind of spiritual Olympics after death, with only the winners qualifying for Heaven! So what do we need to be training for–what does this “training in godliness” even mean?
I’d like to suggest that early Christians understood how happiness really works: that happiness is not about the consumption of products or entertainment but instead is actually an active state of doing what we’ve been created to do–and doing it well. We may be familiar with the ways that Christian theology absorbed elements of thought from Plato’s philosophy; this is a situation where there is some harmony with another philosopher, Aristotle. In his articulation, happiness (here meaning a more profound reality, where today we often use the word joy) is the active state of expressing the fullness of one’s virtue. Too often, “American Dream” happiness seems quite passive: sitting around, eating nice food, watching a ball game. But the biblical descriptions of heavenly multitudes are quite active: the worship described in Revelation 7 includes crying out, singing, standing up, and falling down before the throne–and beyond the activities of worship, the saints “will reign forever and ever” (Rev 22:5, my emphasis). To me, both worshiping (activities directed to God) and reigning (activities directed to the rest of creation) imply a broad range of things that, by our “training in godliness” we may be more or less prepared for. Both dimensions of activity are worth considering for informing our practice even now, but for this piece, I will focus on worship.
Are we ready to enjoy the worship of Heaven?
That question is one that I believe would be worth raising even in a diversity of ways of understanding or imagining “the life to come” that 1 Timothy refers to, but it could be helpful to offer a quick sketch of one understanding of that broader hope: Thanks to Jesus’ sacrifice and death for us, God’s forgiveness has been extended to all. As promised by Jesus’ resurrection, one day we will all experience a bodily resurrection as all of creation is likewise transformed into the new Earth. And in that new reality, where God’s will is done as fully on Earth as it is already in Heaven, sin and death and suffering will be no more. Those who work within a theology of universal restoration might trust what others only hope: that all would eventually join in that life. Others might hold that only those already saved could participate. In either case, if we who have found new life in Jesus are to have any continuity in our resurrection life with our mortal selves, then I do not imagine that our likes and dislikes, or virtues and gifts, will have been discarded. We will still be, in some way, who we have trained to be in this present life.
So, when I ask if we’re “ready for heaven,” I’m talking about something like the difference between a beloved child who’s been riding their bike every day and now gets to join the big 20-mile bike ride along with Mom and Dad; and a beloved child who has barely touched their bike, but is nonetheless invited along for that 20-mile bike ride. They’re both signed up for something objectively great, and if it’s an organized ride, their entry is paid…but one of them, thanks to their training, is probably a whole lot more ready to actually enjoy what she has signed up for. The other may choose to sit out, or she may choose to come along, but find it a real struggle.
An excellent cross-country runner enjoys running their distance; I am out of shape and would have a miserable experience trying to do the same, no matter my belief that exercise is good for me and releases positive endorphins. An excellent musician enjoys playing their concert, but if I tried to pull out my trumpet and play pieces from my high school years, it would be evident very quickly that I haven’t kept up my training, my ‘chops’ couldn’t take it, and neither I nor anyone listening would enjoy that experience. If we have done our “training in godliness,” then we will be ready to enjoy the active happiness of Heaven…but if not, how are we going to enjoy that life to come?
Now, some of us might already be reacting as though I am going way too deep into speculative territory. “What do you mean, Caleb? You don’t know what Heaven’s going to be like; it’s just going to be great. There’s no way we could ever not like something after the Resurrection-it’s going to be pure bliss.” I’m not so convinced, however. People certainly let it be known what they do not like in worship, whether those preferences are in styles of music or length of sermons or whatever else it might be. In the congregation I serve, I have heard the strongest complaint about an element of our worship that I am convinced heavenly worship is only going to have even more of.
For those who may not know, West Charleston is a multicultural congregation. In the years just before I began serving there, they had extended welcome to several immigrant families from Guatemala, Honduras, and Mexico; just a few years later, refugee families from the Congo became connected as well. As pastors, the leadership team, our music director and others committed to following the Spirit in this new direction worked to make genuine our welcome, adaptations of worship included a move to singing in multiple languages and using headsets for live translation of sermons. As with any change, those actions brought comments of resistance.
“Pastor Caleb,” I’ve heard folks say, “I don’t have anything against these immigrant families joining us for worship, but I just don’t see why we have to sing in Spanish or have part of the scripture reading in Spanish.” “Isn’t it just going to make it too easy for them to not have to learn English if you keep translating the sermons?” “If I were to move to another country, I would learn the language.”
That’s the feedback I’ve heard from some who have looked for another congregation to worship with, and in less direct forms from a few who have chosen to stay with us. Sometimes, members of our congregation have participated in the opportunities we continue to offer for understanding the context of today’s migration from Central America, and draw connections to their own histories–like when someone who had grown up in an Appalachian coal camp could understand exactly what it meant to be expected to send money back to support family. It’s less often that folks hold up the current immigrants fleeing violence and economic oppression alongside the German ethnic group of our Brethren heritage and the context of violent persecution they fled, and consider the similarities in seeking a place of security and freedom in which to live and worship. Rarely do these comments remember that the Brethren immigrants who first came to this country took roughly 200 years in the States to stop worshiping in German, and extend the same grace to more recent arrivals with other shades of skin. When these things are discussed, many of our members catch on and are thankful for the new perspective. But for others, the refrain is: “I just don’t like Spanish in worship. We should all speak one language.”
Do you know what I have never heard anyone say? “Pastor Caleb, I don’t know how much more time I have, so would you please help me find a good book to learn Aramaic? I just want to be able to talk to Jesus when I meet him.”
I’ve never heard that one!
I’ve never heard someone say, “You know, Pastor, since worship is so much less confusing in just one language, shouldn’t we all learn Greek and Hebrew, so that whichever of the Bible’s languages they use in Heaven, we’ll be able to follow along?” I wouldn’t be much help, since I’ve never taken Hebrew and can’t speak either of those languages–but I’ve never heard that. Not even from anyone who has made clear to me that they prefer worship to happen in one language alone.
Maybe, given that we’re living in the USA and we’re used to our experience being the most important by default, maybe we’re all just hoping that when we get to Heaven, everything will be in English. Or, as a less arrogant option, we could hope that absolutely everyone receives the gift of tongues as from Pentecost, and stays in that mode forever, speaking so that translation isn’t necessary since all hear in their native language, even though Scripture never says that’s going to be the case.
More likely, though, when John writes that the multitude is from every nation and tongue, it’s because they’re still speaking in every tongue, and he’s hearing it that way. If he heard everyone in his first language, wouldn’t he write, “There was a multitude from every nation, yet I heard them all praising God in Aramaic (or Greek)…”? Instead, John is specific that not only is this multitude from every nation on earth but that they’re praising God in every language under heaven. My takeaway is this: if we don’t like worship that involves more than one language, and isn’t catered to our understanding of everything…then we might not like the worship in Heaven much.
Now, we might have plenty of time to learn to like some new things, and maybe build some new skills or learn a few languages once we’re there–because we’ll have eternity in the resurrection, after all–but I have to admit that’s speculation. I personally trust that the one who begged God’s forgiveness even of those killing him will probably still be ready to help us learn to like the things that God likes, even if we die still stubbornly set against them, but I don’t know for sure how that might work.
Perhaps others with more confidence in their imagining or ordering of Jesus’ return and judgment and tribulation might point to some period of preparation in those times. Those who believe in purgatory have that articulation of how we might be prepared for heavenly worship after our death and yet before we would arrive in the fullness of God’s reign. The image in 1 Corinthians 3:10-15 could be interpreted as an opportunity to be reformed between our death and the fullness of heaven, even if that is to “be saved, but only as through fire” as our life’s works are tested. But none of these convince me that I should shrug off the gap between who I am now and who I will need to be to enjoy God’s Reign, trusting that it can be taken care of after death.
On the contrary, scripture exhorts us to take seriously our chance for training now: “Train yourselves in godliness, for…[godliness holds] promise for both the present life and the life to come.” (What is “Godliness”? That word is so far removed from our normal way of talking that (for our gamers out there) it sounds more like a character stat for an RPG than like something to describe ourselves in real life.) I don’t think “godliness” is one-dimensional, any more than “physical training” is just one thing. There are a thousand different ways athletes train to improve their bodies; similarly, there should be a thousand different ways we train to improve our spiritual virtues–or, to put it even more plainly, improve our ability to do God’s will.
After Jesus’ return, when justice and peace are established throughout creation, we will all do God’s will. And that will be good; we will find happiness in doing God’s will! But let’s pick up our metaphor from before: an organized bike ride with the family is generally a good thing…but it’s going to be a lot easier and a lot more fun for the one who’s already been training every day. Her happiness is going to be a lot greater than her sister’s.
I think there are a thousand ways we could articulate something about what we trust Heaven will be like, and then work backward to the training we need to do today. Much of that could be invaluable, albeit often venturing into speculation; I would love to see those threads show up in the comments following this piece. But let’s circle around and start where Scripture is clear.
If we expect that in Heaven we will be enjoying and appreciating worship surrounded by brothers and sisters in Christ from every nation and tongue then perhaps we could literally and directly today practice our appreciation for brothers and sisters in Christ across the world and across time who also worship our God in their own languages. And if we recognize that amongst that worship, we 21st-century Americans, speaking English, will be the outsiders and newcomers who have been welcomed in, then perhaps we could even today start to practice and learn to appreciate, to actually like and enjoy, de-centering ourselves, and recognize that Christ who should be the center is truly not of our culture.
To be clear, for the most part even this dimension of “training in godliness” would not be about literally learning languages (because many congregations will not end up with a makeup like the one I happen to serve, where being multilingual literally makes worship accessible to our members). But learning to value diversity, and appreciate experiences in which our perspective is not at the center, is one dimension of training in godliness that could be helpful even now in relation to a laundry list of common church conflicts: making explicit welcome for marginalized folks (and making changes to support that welcome), traditional vs contemporary music, comforting vs convicting sermons, and so forth.
I happen to believe it will help us all enjoy heavenly worship if we learn to appreciate worship that more closely reflects that glorious future worship even now. But it isn’t always easy to bring folks along who are so sure that they know what they like and dislike and seem to dislike elements of heaven. Most likely, that will require not just exposure, but witnessing others’ authentic appreciation, in combination with training that improves our capacity to appreciate and enjoy this new thing.
To use the language example of West Charleston again, simply offering worship elements in Spanish in the midst of what was previously an English worship service did not help most folks like multilingual worship (though some early adopters did). However, when some of our members are involved in reading, singing, or praying in their native Spanish, and are clearly deeply moved in their praise for God, that emotional connection is accessible to all regardless of their language. And though someone bilingual might overlook it all too often, if we take the time when learning a new song to walk slowly through pronunciation in each language, that time spent building a skill literally improves our ability not just to enjoy ourselves but to enter truly into worship while singing praise, rather than having our mind focused on getting or mouths around unfamiliar words.
To look at another example, a congregation might decide that rather than segregating into traditional and contemporary services, they would embrace a diversity of musical styles in one service. In that setting, it might be worthwhile to make sure that whoever is leading music would be able to demonstrate a genuine appreciation for whatever music is going to be included, and represent the best of each that they can. Perhaps some introduction and reminders from time to time about how one enters into worship through that music would be helpful: a Taize piece asks for a different kind of participation than a traditional hymn, and a contemporary praise song something different yet again. And perhaps–if all these styles and so many more are among the treasures of every nation that are brought into the New Jerusalem (Rev 21:24)–perhaps those who have learned how to appreciate and participate in a greater diversity of them will be that much more prepared to enjoy the worship of Heaven.
Are we ready for Heaven? Would the folks around us in worship really even like what we understand Heavenly worship to be like if they were transported to that scene before the throne right now? Or would we need a whole lot of “training in godliness” to build up our spiritual muscles as we learn to like the things that God likes?
If it’s the latter, then make plans for training in the worship shared here and now. Describe what stands out in scripture’s depictions of heavenly worship that needs to be practiced now. Help people become exposed to that; find folks with a deep and genuine appreciation for it; take time to learn the skills needed. And then practice: worship in such a way that those who catch the vision can proudly share, “my congregation’s worship is really a taste of what Heaven will be like!”
- All biblical references are to the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV).
Caleb Kragt is a minister 2/3 time and 1/3 stay-at-home Dad. He and his wife Allie have just moved into their first house with kids age 3 and 6. Caleb and Irvin Heishman are co-pastors for the West Charleston Church of the Brethren in Tipp City, Ohio.