In 1816, Lord Byron wrote a narrative poem that has become a classic. The poem is titled, "The Prisoner of Chillon," and it is the story of a man incarcerated in the dungeon at the Castle of Chillon near Lake Geneva, Switzerland.

The prisoner was in a narrow, cramped dungeon cell for such a long time that he began to think of it as home. He made friends with the spiders, insects, and mice that shared his cell. They were all inmates of the same dungeon and he was monarch of each race.

The years in the dark dungeon cell had taken their toll. He was no longer unhappy or uncomfortable. He had grown accustomed to his environment and came to think of his chains as friends.

One day a bird perched on the crevice of the ledge above and began to sing. It was the sweetest music he had ever heard. Suddenly, the desire to see the outside world overwhelmed him. He grabbed the walls of his cell, and began climbing and struggling up the wall so that he could look out of the little window. In that moment, he saw a world that he had forgotten. There was a crystal blue lake ... and some tall green trees ... and the beautiful little white cottage that he called home nestled against the green hills ... and an eagle soaring majestically across a blue sky.

He saw them all for one magnificent moment and then he fell back into his cell. But that dungeon cell was no longer home. For one fleeting moment he had seen a home that lay beyond the tiny cramped cell of the dungeon. He had seen a vision of a world beyond and hope eternal towered over the despair.

We, too, have a vision beyond our present existence. We are pilgrims of the future because our faith enables us to catch a glimpse of an everlasting Kingdom which lies beyond this world. Jesus said:

In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you ...

The Apostle Paul spoke of the fantastic hope that each of us has beyond this world when he said:

The eye has not seen, nor the ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of man, the things which God has prepared for them that love him ...

Jesus affirmed this hope of an eternal Kingdom beyond this existence as he was being crucified on the Cross. One of the men being crucified with Jesus turned to Him and asked: "Jesus, remember me when You come into Your kingdom...."

No one else in the Scripture ever called him Jesus. They called him Master ... They called him Jesus of Nazareth ... They called him Jesus, son of David ... They called him teacher or Rabbi ... They called him the Christ. But no one else called him Jesus!

In an hour of need, this criminal hanging on a cross saw some hope in Jesus and requested: "Jesus, remember me when You come into Your kingdom ..." What comfort it must have been when Jesus turned toward the dying thief and said: "Today, you will be with me in Paradise...."

The promise of Jesus is that there is something which lies beyond this life. God does not create life and allow it to end in a moldy six-foot hole in the ground. The promise of Jesus has become our eternal hope. As plainly as I know how, I am affirming that I believe in this hope. I believe with all of my heart and soul in the Christian doctrine of eternal life. I believe in heaven.

Today, as we look at this idea or concept of heaven, I don’t want to draw you a blueprint of heaven. In fact, there is no way that I could prove the idea of heaven. I don’t believe it can be proven scientifically. I don’t believe the idea of heaven can be proven theologically. I don’t believe the idea of heaven can be proven philosophically. So, instead of trying to prove "beyond a reasonable doubt" the idea of heaven, I simply want to affirm what I have come to believe over the years.

I. I believe that in heaven there will be continued growth. So often we think of our imagery of heaven as fact. The Bible uses a lot of beautiful poetry to describe heaven. It speaks of pearly gates. It speaks of Gabriel blowing his trumpet. It speaks of angels’ wings. It speaks of singing and praising God all day long.

These are our pictures; this is our imagery. But, if this is all there is to heaven, I believe that we would become bored after a short time. After all, singing hymns for eternity would be three or four songs more than I want to sing.

There is an old story about a man who complained that he had too much work to do. He never seemed to be caught up. Every day for twenty years he looked at his desk piled high with unfinished projects ... letters to be answered ... bills to be paid ... and problems to be solved. When he walked out of the house to get away from the clutter, he saw the grass that needed to be cut and the hedges that needed to be trimmed. If he could only get caught up, just once, he thought that would be heaven.

One night he dreamed that he was in a large room with a beautiful mahogany desk before him. The desk was clean ... and bright ... and shiny. There were no letters or bills or problems waiting to be solved. Through the window he could see the lawn freshly mowed and the hedges meticulously manicured. It was a great relief. He had caught up at last and now he could enjoy some peace and quiet.

But, now he had nothing to do - nothing but to sit and stare out the window. As he was staring out the window, he noticed a postman walking down the street - but there were no letters in his bag. He called out to the postman and said, "I see you don’t have anything to do either?"

"Nope," the postman said, "not a thing."

"I don’t know," the man said, "if I like a heaven where there’s nothing to do."

"Don’t you know?" the postman asked. "This isn’t heaven, my friend, this is hell!"

There was nothing to do and it was hell to him. And I believe that a heaven where there is nothing to do but sing hymns ... and walk the streets of gold ... and flutter around with angels’ wings ... would be a heaven that is not very appealing. Personally, I like the concept of a heaven where there is continual growth.

Winston Churchill, in his book, Painting As A Pastime, said:

When I get to heaven I mean to spend a considerable portion of my first million years in painting, and so get to the bottom of the subject ...

I believe in a heaven that will not be boring, but an adventure; I believe in a heaven where we can continue to grow and develop.

II. I believe that in heaven there will be a time of reunion. When I think of eternal life, I think of the words that Jesus said to the thief on the cross. He said: "Today, you will be with me in paradise." Notice those pronouns: you ... me. Jesus seemed to be saying that they would be together and would know each other.

I sat one night in the home of a family who were grieving. Their nineteen-year-old daughter had skidded on some ice and veered into the path of a semi. The driver of the truck had tried to swerve, but it was too late. He slammed into that girl’s car and we were tragically confronted with how thin the thread is that separates us from life and death.

As we sat and talked, the mother held a gold-framed picture of her daughter. And the father looked at me and asked, "Do you really believe that I’ll ever see her again?"

He didn’t ask if heaven’s streets were really paved with gold, and he didn’t care if the gates were really made of pearl. He wanted to know if he would see his daughter again.

This is a question that everyone who experiences sorrow wants to know. They want to know if they are going to see their loved ones again. They want to know if they will be reunited with those who go before them.

I don’t know if I can adequately explain it, but I believe that our personal identities will survive the deaths of our bodies. I don’t believe that we will be simply absorbed back into some sort of creative gob. I believe in a concept of heaven where you will still be you and I will still be me. One of the old gospel songs promises:

We shall come with joy and gladness,
We shall gather round the throne,
Face to face with those who love us,
We shall know as we are known.

I believe in a heaven where we will be reunited with our loved ones. My finite mind may not be able to comprehend that which is eternal, but I know that heaven in all its glory would be a disappointing place if we could not see those we love and have fellowship with them again.

III. I believe in a heaven that is an eternal home. I don’t believe that heaven is a place on a map that we can drive to. I don’t believe that heaven is a place that we can chart on some celestial graph and locate by looking through a powerful telescope. I don’t believe that we could locate heaven by traveling to the outermost edges of the galaxy. I simply believe that heaven is our eternal home. This is the way Jesus described heaven in John 14. He said: "In my Father’s house ..." I don’t think we really need to go much beyond this description of heaven. Heaven is being with God in his house. Heaven is going home to God. Heaven is "dwelling in the house of the Lord forever."

I like the story of the old country parson who spent fifty years in one village church. He served God and the community faithfully. He was not only their pastor, but he was their friend and inspiration in Christian living.

The roads were never so bad that he would not go out and sit and pray with one who was journeying through the valley of the shadow of death. The nights were never too cold to keep him from going to some God-forsaken saloon to help a drunken husband home to his wife and children.

He was the one they sought out in time of trouble. He was the one they called on to perform their marriages. He was the one they wanted to baptize their children. He was the one who comforted them when they had to bury a loved one. He was their pastor and they loved him as much as he loved them.

One Sunday morning when it was time for church to begin, he was not there. As he had grown older, he sometimes slept late. But he had never been this late before. Finally, Andrew, the town blacksmith, went next door to the parsonage to remind him that it was time for church.

He knocked on the door, but there was no answer. He pushed the door open and he found the old pastor slumped over his roll-top desk with his head resting on his open Bible.

Andrew walked back to the church and down the aisle to the front of the congregation. He took off his hat and with tears glistening as they rolled down his cheeks, he said, "We won’t be having church services today."

"Why not?" someone asked. "Where’s the pastor?"

"He’s gone," Andrew said softly. "He’s gone home."

There never was a funeral like the one they had for this country parson. People from all over the county came to pay their respects and to lay a flower upon his grave.

On his tombstone, they simply engraved the words of the blacksmith, "He’s gone home."

Yes, I believe in heaven! 1. I believe in a heaven of continued growth. 2. I believe in a heaven where we will be reunited with our loved ones. 3. I believe in a heaven that is our eternal home.

You can claim this heaven as your own when you give your heart and life to Jesus Christ.