My Vision of Heaven

My Vision of Heaven

When I think of heaven, I don’t picture golden streets, angel choirs, or endless crowds of strangers. My heaven is much closer to the ending of The Chronicles of Narnia, when the children finally come home and are reunited with those they love. For me, heaven is not about grand spectacle. It is about family, simplicity, and the healing of everything this life left broken.

In that eternal world, I am not alone. I am reunited with my father, my mother, my sister, and my brother. Each of us is set free from the burdens that weighed us down in this life. My father, forever thirty-five, is no longer stuck in factory work, dealing with politics and unhappiness. He is content driving trucks — not long hauls, just short and joyful drives in a world where nothing breaks down. My mother, forever thirty-seven, tends to a garden much like the one she had here, but more perfect: flat instead of sloped, with apple and peach trees spread across 800 square metres. She is no longer homesick for the land she left behind. She is home. My sister, forever twenty-three, does not have to carry the responsibility of caring for my brother, because in this heaven, my brother — forever twenty — is not severely autistic. He stands beside us, working, helping, living with freedom and dignity.

And I, forever twenty-five, live in a small bungalow in the backyard. My work is simple and fulfilling, not for profit but for joy. Maybe I spend six hours a day on a forklift, or driving trucks like my father and brother. At the end of the day, I finish my work and return to peace. There are no office politics, no rat race, no endless striving. Just simplicity, purpose, and rest.

In heaven, I also have the time to enjoy the things I loved in this life. I sit down and watch the classic shows that shaped my imagination — Battlestar Galactica, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, the sci-fi of the 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s, even into the 2000s. I rewatch the movies of the past, not hurriedly, not in distraction, but with eternity before me. Entertainment becomes a joy, not an escape.

Most of all, in heaven I am free. Free from the pressures that haunted me in this life — the expectation to marry, the disappointments of failed relationships, the loneliness of being in a place where I felt alien. I tried, and I gave, and I was let down. I looked after others, and often received little in return. But in heaven, that weight is gone. I do not need a wife, children, or society’s approval to be complete. My family is enough. My home is enough. My peace is enough.

It is, in many ways, like the Garden of Eden could have been if Adam had not made the wrong choice — a place to tend the garden, enjoy the sun, eat good fruit, drink deeply, and live without fear or regret. People in this world are too busy chasing their tails, always looking for more, never satisfied. They think heaven must be excess, grandeur, endless novelty. But I have learned that simplicity carries greater rewards than the rat race ever could.

My heaven is not crowded. It is not noisy. It is not complicated. It is eternal reunion, eternal peace, and eternal simplicity. And that is the world I can live in forever.

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My Vision of Heaven – Part 2

When I was young, everything seemed perfect. Childhood, for me, was a time of true freedom. As a child, you do not worry where your food will come from, where you will sleep, or whether you will be alive the next day. Those concerns belong to adulthood. Childhood is trust — the trust that your parents will provide, that tomorrow will come, and that the world, at least for a while, is safe.

Those were the easy days. My father carried the responsibility for the family, but for me, life was wide open. There was joy in the simple things, and the world seemed whole. I know not everyone has that — in some nations, children grow up with hunger, fear, and war. I pity them, because every human being deserves at least a taste of that early freedom. A childhood without safety is a theft, and no one can give those years back.

I think about those who suffer under cruelty — the ones who are crushed, murdered, or robbed of their dignity by those in power. And I pity those who do evil, too, because they cannot look in the mirror and see the fullness of their own actions. Politicians who chase profit through war, who hollow out societies with corruption, who pit people against each other for gain — these are the destroyers of innocence. They bring decay into the world, and their schemes rob generations of peace.

I want none of that in my heaven. No child would ever have to worry, and no adult would ever have to live under the shadow of political greed or violence. There would be no hunger, no exploitation, no constant stress about survival. My heaven would be free of every system that chains people, free of every false game of power.

It would be, instead, like those first years of life — the security of knowing you are cared for, the simplicity of play and discovery, the freedom to live without fear. A return to the innocence of childhood, but with the wisdom of adulthood, and the eternity of peace.

That, for me, is heaven: the reunion of family, the garden that never fails, the joy of simple work and simple pleasures, and the childlike freedom that this world can never fully give.

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