Certainties are remedies,” says the poet. How true are his words. The businessman, when he has the certain knowledge that his business is sound and healthy, finds in the knowledge a remedy which kills his anxiety. The mariner, who is guided by his chart and compass, knows where the dangerous places are, and therefore has no fear of running on the rocks in his voyage, for he knows the course to steer. His certainty is the remedy against all fear. The same is true with regard to the child of God, for concerning the sure and certain hope of Christ’s glad return, and the heaven of His glory, He has said, “If it were not so, I would have told you.” Or, as Godet translates it, “If our separation were to be eternal, I would have forewarned you.” Therefore heaven is sure to the believer, because the promise is sure and the word given is valid.
Broadly speaking, there are four things which make the words of Christ, in their setting, a sure comfort.
Christ’s precious death obtains it. “Joshua’s word can open a way to the cities of earth, to the good land of milk and honey. But only the Son of God can open to the children of earth made of clay, and sons of death, the dwellings of life and heaven.” And He can only do it by His death.
Christ intimates this, in speaking of Himself as the Way to the Father and the gloryland, in the preposition He uses. The meaning of the word translated “by” in John 14:6, is “by means of.” There are three other places in the Gospel of John where the word dia occurs. In John 3:17 it is given “through”; in 6:57, “by”; and in 10:9, “by.” In each case, Christ’s mediatorial death is stated or suggested. Because He has passed through the dark tunnel of death for sin, He can now bring us into the light of heaven’s beauty and bliss. We look back on the empty Cross and it reminds us of the accepted Sacrifice; we look up to heaven’s throne and behold the Christ, bearing in His body the marks of His toil and triumph.
Christ’s priestly presence sustains it. Christ as our Forerunner has taken possession for us. He has already announced our coming. As John the Baptist was the forerunner of Christ and heralded forth His coming, so Christ is our Forerunner who announces our approach. The fact of Christ being in heaven not only makes it certain for us, for He is the Anchor which holds our ship (Heb. 6:19), but He also makes it attractive to us.
He is the Light of heaven, for He illuminates it (Rev. 21:23). He is the Life in the midst of it (Rev. 22:2). He is the Sustainer of heaven, for He feeds with hidden manna (Rev. 2:17). He is the Refresher of heaven, for He satisfies with the Water of Life (Rev. 21:6). He is the Center of heaven, for He is on the throne (Rev. 3:21). He is the Glory of heaven, for His Name is on every forehead; thus no one can look at another without seeing Him (Rev. 22:4). He is the Joy of heaven’s constant service, for His servants serve Him (Rev. 7:15).
Christ’s sure, valid promise contains it. We cannot estimate nor fathom the meaning of those words of cheer: “If it were not so, I would have told you.” “If David could cheer on his men to take Jerusalem from the Jebusites, with the assurance that there he would dwell, and they should have abodes with him, how much more should we be comforted by our Lord’s words!” His words of assurance give comfort to our hearts and joy to our spirits.
“What do you do without a mother to tell all your troubles to?” asked a child who had a mother of one who had none.
“Mother told me whom to go to before she died,” answered the little orphan. “I go to Jesus. He was mother’s Friend, and He’s mine, too.”
“Jesus Christ is in the sky. He’s away off, and has so many things to look after in heaven.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” said the orphan; “all I know is, He says He will–and that’s enough for me.”
Yes, it is enough to faith. His Word is like a rock for stability, none can move it; it is like a check for reliability, and He will surely honor it; it is like a banqueting table for accessibility, and none need leave it hungry.
Christ’s coming “parousia” will attain it. There is a pathos-filled incident in the life of Hugh Miller. He tells how, after his father had left home in his ship, he used to go and watch for his return. His own words tell the story best:
“I used to climb, day after day, a grassy protuberance behind my mother’s house, which commands a wide reach of the Moray Firth. I would look wistfully out, long after everyone else had ceased to hope, for the sloop with the two stripes of white, and the two square topsails I never saw.”
What a ring of disappointment, and a note almost of despair is heard in the words: “I never saw!” Such disappointment can never be the believer’s lot, for one glad day the heavens shall glow with splendor, the trumpet-voice of the Archangel shall awake the dead, and the gathering shout of the Lord shall summon the living; and then in clouds together shall we be caught up to meet the Lord in the air, and be forever in His presence.
Such certainty will change our lives. We will have no difficulty living for the right world, or serving with the right motive, or having our hearts set on the right objective, if we have heaven in our eyes.