little more light in heaven

Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.
— Jesus, Matthew 5:15-16

What if for every saint that goes home, heaven gets just a little brighter?

I know it’s a fanciful thought, and the theologians among us may scoff; but what if the light of mankind (according to John 1) in Jesus, who makes his home in every believer, ascends to the Father at death? Heaven would get a little brighter, right? That’s the way I imagine it, anyway. My friend Vern went home on Saturday morning. He was in his late 80s, and although I only came to know him two years ago, he was a saint who let his light shine before others — and I glorify our Father in heaven for his life.

Vern was a pastor. I know a few of his congregants from before he retired, and their love for him is powerful. He was in the Sunday school class I taught this spring as he was fighting cancer, and I always appreciated the way he told the truth about how he was doing, yet ended the hard truth about his flesh with another truth about his faith. Just the season before, I had watched him lovingly care for his frail wife, faithfully wheeling her into the worship center each week, arm tenderly around her during the service. And I was at the funeral when he laid her to rest in Jesus’ arms.

To watch Vern, and visit with him was to learn and grow and be shaped. I got to see him in the hospital on Thursday afternoon. He was struggling to breathe and had lost so much weight even in the several weeks since I’d seen him last that it shocked me. Even though he could hardly speak, his greeting was warm, and his hands were warmer. He grabbed my hand and just wouldn’t let go, and that was fine with me. It made turning the pages in the Bible a little more awkward as I read to him, but that was okay too. I’d drop his hand a moment, turn a page, and then grab it again.

One of the passages I read was about God giving us all that we need when we ask. I thought of this saint, laying so sick before me, and of all that he needed and it grieved me. It seemed like a frivolous passage to read to a dying man that I loved. But before we prayed, I dared to ask him, “Vern, if God will supply all that you need, what would like to ask him for now?”

Without a pause, Vern answered, “Jesus.” I had to ask him to repeat it again because his voice was so faint and muffled, and I know it cost him something to say it again, more clearly this time, “Jesus.”

It makes me cry even now to think of it. I hate losing him in my temporal way of thinking. I’ll miss seeing his glowing eyes and the little conversations we had before the service about the week, our faith, and even about being a pastor. Although in his 90s, Vern was interested in my seminary journey, and encouraging. I’ll miss that too. But Vern’s not sorry, and he’s not shedding any tears. He’s home. God answered the cry of his heart, and gave him more of Jesus.

Six years ago tomorrow, I wrote a song to celebrate the home-going of another saint, and I woke up this morning thinking about the lyric. A year and a half ago, I sang it to celebrate the home-going of my own Mom; and yet, it fits again, so I share it here with a tiny shift in lyrics to include my experience with Vern, a man of prayer, of faith, of God.

Somebody lit a fire in that man

A holy flame was burning in his heart and lighting up his soul

He made you want to stay and rest awhile

And just pull up a chair

Reach out your hands and feel the warmth

That was waitin’ for you there

And there’s a little more light in heaven now

But it’s shining down on you and me

Though we find our hearts beneath

The shadow of this grief, when our

Tears have washed the clouds away we’ll see

A little more light in heaven

There’s a little more light in heaven

And it sheds a little more light on you and me

Can anybody testify to what he believed?

How many here could say, “Thank God he was praying for me”

And when his prayers have all been answered

How much more light will there be

In this world because he hit his knees

And left this legacy?

Yeah there’s a little more light in heaven now

But it’s shining down on you and me

Though we find our hearts beneath

The shadow of this grief, when our

Tears have washed the clouds away we’ll see

A little more light in heaven

There’s a little more light in heaven

But it sheds just a little more light on you and me

I can see the Father smile and say “Well done.”

And his candle burning like the sun

After the rain has gone…

Yeah there’s a little more light in heaven now

But it’s shining on through you and me

Though we find our hearts beneath

The shadow of this grief, when our

Tears have washed the clouds away we’ll see

A little more light in heaven

There’s a little more light in heaven

But it sheds just a little more light

Yeah it sheds just a little more light

Oh it sheds just a little more light on you and me

Words and music by Amy L. Blackledge 10.9.06