A pastor friend of mine, not trying to be irreverent or sacrilegious, once shared with me his own faint analogy of eternal hell—waking up every day and discovering yet again that it was moving day. I know that some will quickly suggest the reality far outstrips this weak analogy. Nevertheless, I do understand the picture—I remember very well each and every one of our moving days.
Sometimes I think I need a new analogy of heaven. The “streets of gold” sound gorgeous, but my mother always taught me that gems and precious metals never satisfy for long. “Pearly gates” sound welcoming, but where do those gates lead? I’m really not trying to be irreverent or sacrilegious, but readily admit that I am a wired, high-metabolism sort of guy, and my pictures of heaven often seem lame.
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