It seems to me that God has to pull together a family from unlikely sources. Pacifists side by side with Crusaders. Slave owners living next door to civil rights leaders. Polygamists, Jews, Catholics, Protestants, Democrats, Republicans. People from every tribe and nation, from every generation.
We might look some who manage to get inside heaven’s doors and hold them guilty for the things they did in God’s name. Even King David, the man after God’s own heart, a hero I admire greatly, most likely killed hundreds of people with his own sword. I cringe. Yet people from another time and place might look at my life and be horrified at what I’ve done, or left undone.
Somehow, we’ll all live in the same home. We’ll all like one another. We’ll enjoy hanging out together.
How will God do this? I don’t know exactly. But I’m reminded not to be arrogant. I’ll probably get to heaven, just like the rest of us, and discover that I was way off the mark, but somehow, in His grace, Jesus still opened the door and let me in.
