This was one of the main reasons that I didn’t set much store by the single Sunday school lesson I ever attended (courtesy of my paternal grandmother, against my mother’s wishes, when I was probably older than 5 but definitely younger than 10). When the teacher described to all of us what a wonderful place heaven was, every single one of us (apparently I wasn’t the only one there hearing all this for the first time) was overjoyed, and we all exclaimed that we wanted to die right away so we could go there.
The teacher hurriedly tried to explain to us that that’s not what God wants, he wants us to live full lives here on Earth. We were having none of it. “No!” we said joyfully, “I wanna die right now!”
While we didn’t say it in so many words, it was clear to us that the teacher wasn’t making any sense, since she seemed to be claiming both that God wants what’s best for us, and that God doesn’t want us to do what would clearly actually be best for us. We were in the strange position of watching an adult firmly denounce what should have been the most obviously correct decision in the history of human existence if heaven actually existed.
Claiming that God doesn’t want us to go to heaven right away because he “wants us to live full lives on Earth” makes no sense. If heaven’s really so great, and it’s eternal, then why in the world would literally anybody not want to get there as soon as possible? And more importantly, why would God not want that? If there’s an answer to that, the teacher didn’t know it. And if we’re accepting her claims that heaven is amazing and eternal and God wants what’s best for us, then the only good reason God could have for wanting us to “live full lives on Earth” is that it would maximize our well-being in the long run even after taking an eternity in heaven into account. The teacher offered us no reason to believe that’s the case; and more importantly, neither did God, who was just as silent on that day as on all other days.
The other main reason was that I kept thinking (again, not in so many words), “Wow, if all this is true, it sounds really important for people to know! Maybe the single most important thing a person could ever possibly learn! Why haven’t we all learned this in school yet? Why hasn’t Mom told me? Why isn’t this the sole topic of human conversation? Why hasn’t this vitally important and seemingly well-known information reached my ears before now, even just by sheer chance? Why hasn’t any of this had literally any effect on my life before now?”
And then, as I resumed my Sunday school-less existence, and the supposed truths I’d been told in that classroom continued to have absolutely no effect on my life, or on anybody else’s for that matter, I don’t think there was a point (in childhood, anyway) where I explicitly decided it wasn’t true, but I felt perfectly comfortable acting as though it wasn’t, since reality apparently did not see fit to contradict me.
It’s funny, because there’s a lot to criticize about how my mother raised me, and considering how credulous she can be in other areas of her life, it’s rather interesting that she made a very deliberate decision not to raise me religious — something that even her mother, someone who I never once saw pray or say grace or attend church or act in literally any way like she was even pretending to believe in God, couldn’t wrap her head around. But I’m grateful to her for making that decision.
The standard Christian answer to the question of deliberately going to heaven early is that our presence here on Earth is like being a soldier on duty. The soldier may not leave his post, no matter what happens, until he is stood down by his commanding officer, i.e. God. Suicide is tantamount to desertion, and a sure ticket to hell. Instead he must serve faithfully until that day, whereof no man knoweth the hour, when God says, “thou good and faithful servant, now mayest thou depart in peace.”
I doubt, though, that many Sunday school teachers would be able to present that very well. Their job is really just to provide religious-flavoured childcare, taking the little mites off their parents’ hands for a while.
The standard Christian answer to the question of deliberately going to heaven early is that our presence here on Earth is like being a soldier on duty.
This resolves nothing. In fact it just raises more questions.
This was one of the main reasons that I didn’t set much store by the single Sunday school lesson I ever attended (courtesy of my paternal grandmother, against my mother’s wishes, when I was probably older than 5 but definitely younger than 10). When the teacher described to all of us what a wonderful place heaven was, every single one of us (apparently I wasn’t the only one there hearing all this for the first time) was overjoyed, and we all exclaimed that we wanted to die right away so we could go there.
The teacher hurriedly tried to explain to us that that’s not what God wants, he wants us to live full lives here on Earth. We were having none of it. “No!” we said joyfully, “I wanna die right now!”
While we didn’t say it in so many words, it was clear to us that the teacher wasn’t making any sense, since she seemed to be claiming both that God wants what’s best for us, and that God doesn’t want us to do what would clearly actually be best for us. We were in the strange position of watching an adult firmly denounce what should have been the most obviously correct decision in the history of human existence if heaven actually existed.
Claiming that God doesn’t want us to go to heaven right away because he “wants us to live full lives on Earth” makes no sense. If heaven’s really so great, and it’s eternal, then why in the world would literally anybody not want to get there as soon as possible? And more importantly, why would God not want that? If there’s an answer to that, the teacher didn’t know it. And if we’re accepting her claims that heaven is amazing and eternal and God wants what’s best for us, then the only good reason God could have for wanting us to “live full lives on Earth” is that it would maximize our well-being in the long run even after taking an eternity in heaven into account. The teacher offered us no reason to believe that’s the case; and more importantly, neither did God, who was just as silent on that day as on all other days.
The other main reason was that I kept thinking (again, not in so many words), “Wow, if all this is true, it sounds really important for people to know! Maybe the single most important thing a person could ever possibly learn! Why haven’t we all learned this in school yet? Why hasn’t Mom told me? Why isn’t this the sole topic of human conversation? Why hasn’t this vitally important and seemingly well-known information reached my ears before now, even just by sheer chance? Why hasn’t any of this had literally any effect on my life before now?”
And then, as I resumed my Sunday school-less existence, and the supposed truths I’d been told in that classroom continued to have absolutely no effect on my life, or on anybody else’s for that matter, I don’t think there was a point (in childhood, anyway) where I explicitly decided it wasn’t true, but I felt perfectly comfortable acting as though it wasn’t, since reality apparently did not see fit to contradict me.
It’s funny, because there’s a lot to criticize about how my mother raised me, and considering how credulous she can be in other areas of her life, it’s rather interesting that she made a very deliberate decision not to raise me religious — something that even her mother, someone who I never once saw pray or say grace or attend church or act in literally any way like she was even pretending to believe in God, couldn’t wrap her head around. But I’m grateful to her for making that decision.
The standard Christian answer to the question of deliberately going to heaven early is that our presence here on Earth is like being a soldier on duty. The soldier may not leave his post, no matter what happens, until he is stood down by his commanding officer, i.e. God. Suicide is tantamount to desertion, and a sure ticket to hell. Instead he must serve faithfully until that day, whereof no man knoweth the hour, when God says, “thou good and faithful servant, now mayest thou depart in peace.”
I doubt, though, that many Sunday school teachers would be able to present that very well. Their job is really just to provide religious-flavoured childcare, taking the little mites off their parents’ hands for a while.
This resolves nothing. In fact it just raises more questions.