A Heavenly Marriage

I recently attended the funeral of Billy Graham as part of my job serving media. Mr. Graham preached to 215 million people, and he spoke the Gospel unstoppably. Sometimes that meant going against corrupt norms of his day, like when he had to physically rip apart barriers to enforce racial integration at one of his crusades in Chattanooga, Tennessee, in 1953. "Either these ropes stay down or you can go on and have the revival without me,” he said. Segregated revival is no revival. Another part of his story, especially told at his funeral, was just how much Mr. Graham looked forward to heaven. “Someday you will read or hear that Billy Graham is dead. Don’t you believe a word of it! I shall be more alive then than I am now…I will have gone into the presence of God,” he is recalled to have said. He yearned for heaven every moment of his life, knowing that his closeness to God there would be far more than anything he had or would experience on Earth. His wife Ruth passed away 11 years ago in 2007; 11 years Mr. Graham lived apart from her. Another part of his anticipation of heaven was that he greatly looked forward to their reunion. Upon arrival, I imagine, he first found his beloved God; then he found his beloved wife.

A time or two so far in my marriage, I have had fears about my husband Jordan passing away unexpectedly. I think about it when I hear of a friend of a friend passing away suddenly, or when I watch a TV drama in which a young person dies of disease or accident. After experiencing this life and partnership with him, I cannot bring to mind a life without him without great fear and sadness. I don’t ever try to dwell on it. My sadness in those thoughts is justified, but is my fear justified? No, I don’t think so. My husband knows the Lord and loves him more than anything; he has received salvation and the promise of eternal life. My thoughts of life after death for my husband, myself, or any other in the body of Christ should have no scent of fear. Of course such a death brings great unknowns about daily life and the future of my time here on Earth. But eternal life in heaven with our God is something to dearly yearn for. I now envision it. I paint pictures of heavenly praise and perfection in my mind. And I seek tastes of it here on Earth.

One such taste I have found is in our intimate physical relationship. I hope this is true for all marriages, that the incredible closeness and bond experienced in sex, and the knowledge that the covenant of marriage is a reflection of covenant with God, is a reminder of the great intimacy and nothing-else-like-it closeness we can experience with God here on Earth and will especially experience with God in heaven—the greatest height and intersection of vulnerability and joy.

Sometimes I drift into tasting things of this Earth instead of things of heaven, like seeking the perfect date night with my husband or searching for the perfect recipe for cooking us the most delicious meal. I try to remember the real marriage, what all our marriages exist to spotlight, is not those things. The real marriage is the permanent union of Christ and the church—the oneness of God and his people. Building our oneness and reflecting that loving, gracious, disciplined, constructive, generous union—that is a heavenly marriage.

Revelation 19:9 says, “Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb.” Thank you God that we have been invited! In that marriage supper, Ellicot’s Commentary for English Readers says the church “will rest, and feast, and reign with her Lord; and in all the peace, gladness, and triumph of that joy-time God's servants will share.” That oneness I practice in imperfection today. That oneness I look forward to experiencing in perfection someday.

May my longing for the presence of God greatly outweigh my longing for the presence of my husband. May there be no comparison. And may I sincerely look forward to eternity in heaven for myself and my beloved. For in death we begin the next part of our promised eternal life. In death my husband will be more alive than ever before. In death we will go into the presence of God.

Lynn Riley grew up near Washington, D.C., and now lives in Marietta, Georgia, with her husband of six months. She loves to knit and write. She works as a copyeditor on the production team at a PR firm serving faith-based clients