What is our treasure in heaven?

Having recently submitted the post on Map the Bible about how the Kingdom of heaven is compared in scripture to great treasure (Click here to read it), I wanted to take that idea a little further, here.

The word treasure, in the worldly sense, conjures images of pirates and sunken ships. I think of things that have been stolen and hidden. Who knows how many heinous crimes have been committed in the name of Wealth? Money is power. Gold and diamonds have an alluring beauty. Many have killed or died for want of a beautiful jewel...but I think our appreciation for jewelry originates from somewhere even deeper than selfish gain.

Biblically, treasure is not usually a reference to ill-gotten gain, but to something of great value. Without condoning materialism, God must at least empathize with the value we place on precious metals and jewels, because He uses them throughout scripture as a basis for comparison, to illustrate and define what is important to Him. So, what does Jesus really mean when He says, "You will have treasure in heaven" (Matthew 19:21, ESV)?

According to Revelation chapter 21, the city we'll live in--the place we call heaven--the New Jerusalem that comes down out of heaven from God--is a gigantic piece of jewelry spanning a square that would reach from Florida to Michigan, and from Kansas to the Atlantic Ocean. Add nearly 1400 miles straight up, to form a perfect cube. Gold, precious stones and pearls for miles and miles and miles. Unfathomable riches. Take a moment to read the passage for yourself. You can use this handy link, if you'd like.  (Handy link)

Can you even begin to imagine such an elaborately designed city wall? I know, I know. How un-spiritual of me. What heaven is made of isn't what it's really all about. Shouldn't we content ourselves with the hope of an ethereal state of ultimate peace and joy? Isn't that all heaven really is? I mean, we're just going to be spirit beings there, right? Like ghosts or something?

I don't think so. For one thing, we'll be there after we're resurrected bodily (based on Rev. 20:4-5,11-13). I don't want to belabor this point, but if God made the universe out of nothing, and formed Adam from the dust of the ground, I'm sure He'll have no trouble reassembling our bodies. What Revelation 21 tells me is that heaven is a real place where the purest gold will be so abundant and of so little consequence, we'll be thoughtlessly walking all over it. Jesus will be the main attraction in heaven, undoubtedly the only reason we're even there, and I do not mean to diminish that. But I'd like us to consider for a moment the fact that God created us; He wired us to appreciate beauty, and even to respond to it physiologically. Could our temporal fascination with shiny rocks be based on a knowledge we have, on some higher level, of the spectacular light of God we'll see shining through the jewels of heaven? Could this be the treasure in heaven Jesus wants us to strive for? Or could there be even more inside the city walls: rewards for our faithfulness furnishing the dwellings which Jesus is preparing for us, a la John 14:2 ("In My Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you." -NKJV)?

I think it's fitting to share part of a dream I had about a year ago. I entered a huge house, looking for some item I can't remember now, maybe it was just a short-cut. (I'm inclined to look for the easy way out- Can we call it an appreciation for efficiency?) Anyway, as I wandered through the halls, I saw rooms that were unbelievably ornate, but they were closed off by glass, as though showcased in a museum. One room in particular was furnished with plum colored velvet (I love this color) and elaborately carved, rich, warm wood, and I was impressed with the beauty of it, but I sensed that even though it seemed to be made for me, it was being withheld from me by the glass. As I made my way through the house, passing a rather garish chandelier, I began to sense that I had entered this place through the back door, and so now I was looking for the front door; and I expected it to be at least as magnificent as the furniture I had just seen. Instead, it was a brushed steel, industrial-style swinging kitchen door. While there was more to the dream, I awoke with the unmistakable feeling that I had just had a glimpse of treasure in heaven that wouldn't be mine because of a very bad decision I had made, and that it was going to take an attitude of servant-hood to get me where I want to go - hence, the kitchen door.

Our entrance into heaven is based solely on the completed work of Jesus Christ on our behalf. It is our relationship with Christ that determines where we spend eternity. But it is our works that determine our rewards when we get there. 1 Corinthians 3:11-15 (ESV) says:

For no one can lay a foundation other than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ. Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw-- each one's work will become manifest, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed by fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each one has done. If the work that anyone has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward. If anyone's work is burned up, he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire.

This is both comforting and terrifying. I have full assurance of my salvation, and I praise the Lord for His great mercy to me, but how much of my life is going to go up in flames? Only the gold, silver and precious stones will remain. Only what I have invested in God's kingdom will be there for me when I get there. What will I have to show for my time here? How much treasure will I have in heaven? And will I have to wash dishes when I get there?

In Matthew 6:19-21, Jesus said, "Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

Where is my treasure? Is my heart in the right place?

The Fruit of Fasting: Broken Yokes and The Conception of Map the Bible

That's yokes, not yolks.  And conception?  No pun intended.

After my ten-day Rosh Hashanah/Yom Kippur fast, I took a week or so just to decompress, but I knew I had more work to do.  A call to some form of ministry has nagged my husband and me for years, but there are some obstacles in the way.  I felt I needed to dig in deeper and to broaden the scope of my prayer focus, so a 21-day Daniel fast seemed ideal.

I should probably take this opportunity to express that I don't believe prayer is a way to twist God's arm.  Nor do I believe that fasting is a magic potion that makes God answer prayer.  Prayer is simply communion with God, and although bringing our petitions to Him is certainly part of that, the goal is to strengthen our relationship with Him, to "acknowledge Him in all our ways." (Prov. 3:6)  We shouldn't be the ones doing all the talking, though; we need to listen, too.  Hearing God requires knowing His word, through which His Spirit sometimes whispers (sometimes yells) the truth He wants us to apply.  Sometimes that happens while we're studying the Bible, and a verse just jumps out and grabs us in a way we've never experienced before; sometimes our hearts are pierced with conviction by the very thing we didn't want to hear from a loved one.

When my prayer life has suffered due to busy-ness and distractions, God seems to think 4 am is a good time to talk.  Not audibly. Just by nudging my conscience in a particular direction.  Usually rather uncomfortably.  So... fasting.

Fasting is not us manipulating God; it's a reminder to US that we need to seek God more earnestly.  Every unfulfilled craving serves as a cue to acknowledge Him more readily during the hours we're normally awake, though that doesn't necessarily quell the 4 am chats.  It is a tool with which we have been equipped: a magnifying glass, which enables us to see Him and His will for us more clearly, and to focus His light on a particular problem with powerful results (You're picturing fried ants, aren't you?).  It is a tool which often lies on the mantle, collecting dust.  To many Christians of our day, fasting is a completely foreign concept.  That was me just two years ago.  It seems very few churches ever even mention it, much less advocate its use.  True, it is nowhere required of Gentiles in the Bible, but countless examples of its benefits are given throughout scripture.  There are many excellent resources on fasting, so I won't belabor the particulars, but as I mentioned in my previous post, the book of Daniel lays a foundational example of a partial fast in chapters 1 and 10.  I used the books: Fasting, by Jentezen Franklin (Charisma House), as preliminary inspiration, and The Ultimate Guide to the Daniel Fast, by Kristen Feola (Zondervan) as my daily guide, devotional, and cookbook.  Both are filled with practical examples and testimonies, and really helped to get me started and to keep me going.

On the first few days of the fast, I tried to make a concession for my coffee.  I like a little coffee with my cream and sugar, so the prospect of drinking it black was worse than going without, but I was very reluctant to part with the caffeine, so I allowed myself one cup each morning with agave nectar and coconut milk.  On day 3, my conscience still wasn't appeased, so I let go of the coffee altogether...and the sweetener.  On the last day of the fast, I broke the fast early to celebrate my dad's birthday with some cake.  However, I felt a nagging sense that there was still an unswept corner to address, so I decided to take the weekend off and then fast for five more days (which made up for the days I "cheated").

Isaiah 58 is the recipe for a fast that God honors. Verse 6 says, "Is this not the fast that I have chosen: To loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, to let the oppressed go free, and that you break every yoke?" Fasting breaks spiritual bondage.

At the end of those last five days, my prayer burden subsided, and my husband later announced to me that he had quit using tobacco.  He hasn't used it since.  I  just have to praise God for that, because it was one of those glaring obstacles between us and effective ministry.

My course of Bible study for the fast and afterward was to read methodically, a chapter or more a day, beginning with Genesis.  As I was reading through Genesis chapter 2, about the rivers in Eden, I pulled out a map of Iraq that I had photocopied and scribbled on several years ago.  My note had indicated that Eden was probably near modern-day Baghdad, because that's about where the Tigris (in some versions referred to as the Hiddekel) and Euphrates rivers were closest together, and both of those rivers are cited as running through Eden.  I read the passage about the rivers out loud to my children, "Now a river went out of Eden to water the garden, and from there it parted and became four riverheads." (Gen. 2:10, NKJV)  Now, I don't know how many times I've read that verse, but it wasn't new to me.  Yet, as I looked again, I realized my map was wrong; the Tigris and Euphrates should BEGIN in Eden, not just run through it.  Thus began the journey to find the true location of Eden...with all the rabbit trails you could ever want, including the search for the other two rivers.

Throughout the fast, I prayed for God to show me what to do with the discoveries I made as I continued to search the scriptures.  I thought just jotting down the passages I found wouldn't really make for a very exciting read, and I lack a stack of degrees behind my name to render my opinion of much value to the general population, Christian or otherwise.  However, as a veteran homeschool mom with a desire to impart study skills, rather than just head knowledge, I felt confident that, with God's direction, I could put together a treasure hunt that would serve as a curriculum for studying the Bible in its geographical and historical context, and the students would discover the location for themselves.  Voila!  Map the Bible was conceived!  Oh, but birth is still a long way off.

So many rabbit trails, so little time.

Mapping the Journey - The Fast

As I look back to the beginning of this journey into the writing of "Map the Bible," I feel compelled to share the learning process, which has already led to greater discoveries than I intended to communicate in the curriculum, mainly because of the very controversial nature of much of the subject matter.  I am providing background for the sake of context and in hopes of remaining transparent about what won't be covered in the Map the Bible series...and why.  Consider this a look behind the scenes...and into my heart.

This journey began in early September of this year (2013) with a "Daniel Fast," a diet restriction based on chapters 1 and 10 in the book of Daniel, with the purpose of seeking God and His direction more wholeheartedly than would be otherwise possible.  I was not aware at the time that I would be writing a book; I just wanted to get my heart right toward God.  He had been showing me some things I needed to address that were affecting my ability to mature in my walk with Him, and I was losing sleep over them.  I felt compelled to begin a tempered fast (I didn't feel ready to stop eating altogether), and chose a date to begin.  This choice was unrelated to my later acknowledgment that Rosh Hashanah was upon us, the Jewish New Year, a call to repentance and a new beginning.

I am not Jewish, but I see the need to try to understand the Bible in its historical context.  Years ago, I attended a Messianic synagogue for a few months in an effort to reach a Jewish friend with the gospel of Jesus Christ.  (It is difficult enough to convince a Jew that Jesus is the Messiah; harder still when he doesn't believe that even the Hebrew scripture, the Old Testament, is inspired by God. Faith truly is a work of the Spirit.)  Since that time, I've learned a modicum about the Biblical feasts, and have fumbled through a couple of attempts to celebrate Passover with my family in an effort to appreciate the profound spiritual symbolism the feast conveys. As Gentile Christians, it feels like a stretch for us to borrow Jewish culture, and yet, I have felt many tugs at my heart to observe the other biblical feasts, as well.  So, when I realized that the day I had chosen to begin my fast coincided with Rosh Hashanah, I couldn't dismiss it as coincidence.  As I began to read about how it is traditionally observed, I discovered that there are ten "Days of Awe" between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur (the Day of Atonement) and that these days are a time of introspection and spiritual preparation in anticipation of that most holy day on the Jewish calendar.  It seemed obvious to me, then, that my tempered fast should take place over these ten days, leading to a full fast on the Day of Atonement, as the biblical mandate requires.

I want to clarify that I did not have the impression that observing these feasts would make me more holy, or win me favor with God.  I was not attempting to overthrow Grace by observing the Law; I simply felt that this was God's perfect timing for me to focus more wholly on Him, and I could not ignore the urge to dig more deeply into the significance of the holiday, so I attended a Kol Nidre ("Annulment of Vows") service at a Messianic synagogue, in which the total fast begins and broken promises are forgiven.

I had never before gone an entire day without food or water.  I had assumed I would be miserable on the (night and) Day of Atonement, but it seemed to be the perfect culmination of the previous days' efforts, and I experienced a grace I hadn't known before, drawing me closer to Jesus, who endured much greater suffering to atone for my sin.  At sundown, after 24 hours of fasting, I attended a Neilah ("Closing of the Gate") service, which includes a final appeal to God to write our names in the Book of Life, an acknowledgement that He is the one true God, the blowing of the Shofar, and a joyous cry, "Next year in Jerusalem!" At this point, tears came to my eyes, and a longing to be in Israel swept over me.  This was completely unexpected.  After all the introspection and inner wrestling, it surprised me that this, of all things, moved my heart to tears.  I continue to embrace the idea that I might actually go to Israel next year, should the Lord allow.

At last, the fast was broken with a delicious meal of fellowship, and I rejoiced to quench my thirst.  One of my young sons had attended the services with me, but he had not fasted with me and did not fully understand the significance of the occasion.  Nor did I feel equipped to properly communicate my sentiments to my family about this supernatural fresh start.  Truly, our relationship with God is deeply personal, but that should not prevent us from trying to share it with others.

As I write this in a quiet moment on our secular New Year's Eve, I rejoice in another new beginning.  In fact, each day, each moment, we are afforded the opportunity to honor God with our lives, as long as He grants us breath.  But we never know when that last breath will be, so it isn't wise to delay.   "For He says: 'In an acceptable time I have heard you, And in the day of salvation I have helped you.' Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation." -2 Corinthians 6:2 (NKJV).

May this New Year be a fresh start for you, and may the Holy Spirit guide you into a closer relationship with Jesus, and a fulfilling life of service to God. Shana tova! (Have a good year!)

~Jenni