Heavenly Comfort

It is quite useless knocking at the door of heaven for earthly comfort. It’s not the sort of comfort they supply there. ~C.S. Lewis

 

I’m lonely so much of the time. My health is poor and I hurt daily. I was already poor, on a fixed income, and now the price of groceries has doubled.

I never married (probably won’t and why bother this late?) and will never have offspring. Nothing to look forward to in this life except everything continuing to get worse. I’m only 49 but might as well be dead as far as doing anything with my life or having any positive changes. 

It was that way–for me–before the world went rabid and the devil took over everything here. As one of life’s worthless losers I’m sure everything will just get worse. And absolutely no one is looking out for me either.

As a Christian, I have faith in either one of two (good) potential outcomes. Death by natural causes or murder. Or Christ returns and takes His followers to Heaven. A lot like painless mass deaths. (No real difference between the “Rapture” and quick, painless death if you think about it. Why do so many get the biggest thrill out of the “Rapture” and consider death the worst thing ever? You wind up in the same place anyhow according to the Bible.

My faith is being severely taxed. It’s not my head or reason giving me problems, but my heart.

As a college student I occasionally read articles and books about “Faith versus reason” yet nothing was said about where my doubts all came from. “Faith versus feelings.”

In my agony of loneliness–alone all day and night sometimes–I’ve wept uncontrollably. Tried to console myself with thoughts of Heaven. But it’s not working.

When it comes to Heaven my imagination doesn’t work. While I continue to believe I feel no comfort or sensation of hope.

I read a lot of joyful comments about the “marriage supper of the Lamb” we can all look forward to. In my narrow empty bed–alone forever–I tried to imagine it. But the all-too-literal images I conjured up were horrifying.

Some kind of communal mass wedding with countless men, women, and children–all wearing bridal gowns and veils. Including the men! Or–a more grotesque image–of some bridal collective. Meaning a mass of innumerable men, women, and children fused together into the body of one giant woman in a bridal dress and veil. This giantess steps down the aisle to marry a four-footed barnyard animal, smelling of lanolin rather than cologne.

Swap it out with Hebrew customs if you like. The effect is much the same. Collective Frankenstein type giantess goes through marriage ceremony with a sheep.

Speaking as someone who has been celibate all her life–nearly half a century–I don’t know how the idea of such an abstract metaphor is supposed to comfort me. How does such a “marriage” even work?

If I go to a concert or performance I really enjoy and really like the performer and a bunch of other people are there we may have a good time and even bond with others there. But that does not make us all married to the man on the stage.

How is admiring the Throne of God anything like marriage? I realize we’ll be waving branches and shouting or singing instead of just standing. Still more like a concert than a wedding. Let alone a life of marriage and family.

My images sound heretical. So I discarded them. But they go along with the comforting phrases and platitudes I keep hearing.

And the idea of embracing and kissing Christ the way I would a man who loved me romantically disturbs me. Obviously it’s a metaphor not to be taken literally.

But that leaves me with nothing but emptiness. I believe in God but find no comfort in any promises about Heaven because none are concrete or literal enough to soothe me. Mere abstractions and pretty metaphors aren’t helping. My heart is breaking and my soul overflows with grief.

Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief!