Like most kids raised in church, I knew about heaven before I knew that Africa was a continent instead of a country. Heaven is obviously a pretty important aspect of faith, both in Christianity and other religions. It is the realization of our hope as well as a promise of the end of pain and death. Although it is such a prominent point, it is often just as equally misunderstood.

As a little girl, my thoughts on heaven were rather dull. I had the mental image of thousands bowing on their knees before the throne of God, singing. Forever. And ever. And ever. This is rather a drab image for a girl who could hardly stand to sit in her chair for the duration of the sermon. And as much as I hated to admit it, heaven sounded incredibly boring if for eternity I was required to sing praises constantly. Even the prospect of streets of gold was not enough to tempt me into liking the idea.

However, as I matured, so did my views on heaven. After a particularly riveting sermon on heaven in which the pastor insisted that praising God for eternity in heaven was so much more than just singing, my mental image shifted to a much more desirable scenario. This time, heaven was a place where my sister and I could play Barbie's without fighting over who got the pink high heels or the most desirable bachelor Ken doll. It was a place where I no longer got splinters in my feet, mosquito bites on my arms or bee stings. It was a place void of tornado and flood warnings. It was a place where my anger no longer got me in trouble. This was a heaven I wanted to attend.

And then I grew out of dolls, and I subsequently grew out of this view of heaven and into my current understanding. To explain this, I must explain yet another puzzling curiosity of my young faith and life.

We all know that one (or several) golden age folks in our lives, that become teary eyed at the thought of heaven as if they can see the pearly gates already. I remember being a young girl and being so puzzled as to why they were so ready to get to heaven. I couldn't understand it. Why did they want to leave this world where life was obviously so beautiful and wonderful?

But then as I began to age in years and in my faith, my eyes have begun to open and my heart to understand. My struggle with sin has become much more evident. I look into the very depths of my heart and tremble at the utter evil that lurks in the dark corners. When I am faced with a decision to react with grace and mercy, my human nature rebels and fights against my spiritual desires. And in the light of such a struggle, my heart breaks at so often being deceived by sin while yet longing to rest in the goodness and peace of God. It is in these moments where the eyes of my heart open, and heaven suddenly becomes a place where I struggle with sin no longer. It becomes a place where my relationship with my Lord and Savior is no longer hindered by the sinful desires of my nature.

And then when I view the evil in the world around me, my heart once again longs for the sweet relief of Christ's return. I see evil rulers who relish in lavish lifestyles while the rest of their country struggles daily to just survive. I see vicious men (and women) who hurt others for no reason other than to satisfy some vile desire. And then besides the pain inflicted by our own humankind, we must contend with the forces of nature, death, famine, drought, flood and pestilence. When I look into the eyes of photographed children, mothers and fathers whose eyes crave for hope, it makes me long for heaven where they can no longer be hurt by the pain of this world — where hope can finally be realized.

I still don't really understand what heaven will be like. I don't know what we will do for eternity, and although the Bible offers us glimpses of this beautiful yet unrealized reality, there is much we will never know until we get there. I also imagine that the older I get, the more I will begin to understand truths of heaven and Christ's longed-for return. Yet for now as I understand it, heaven is more than just a place free from bee stings and flood warnings. It is a place where the struggle for sin will be no more. It is a place where I finally view the beautiful face of my Savior. All these years of hope and faith will finally be realized. But until then, I will continue to view heaven through a dimly-lit glass (1 Corinthians 13:12) and cling to the promises of Christ.

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." — Hebrews 11:1