The Day Heaven Became Real

I still remember my pastor coming into my Sunday school class when I was four years old to talk to us about a place called ‘Heaven’. Like most children, I grew up thinking of Heaven as this obscure place far, far away. We couldn’t see it; we couldn’t get there from where we were; but, we were told, it was “there”.

I attended church regularly with my family, but I was largely going through the motions. Over the years, I evolved from playing “tic-tac-toe” and trying to stay within the lines as I colored in the children’s bulletin, to trying to follow along with the sermon, and ultimately to expressing my own statement of faith during my Confirmation in my early teens.

But still, Heaven was a concept — something I believed in, but didn’t think about often. As I left the bubble of home and went on to college, I became so distracted with the rigor of the academic schedule, extracurriculars, and social life that I didn’t spend as much time thinking about it.

Then, in the early hours of October 26, 2010, my brother slipped away from this world and entered that place called ‘Heaven’.

When the person I had shared a room with for 10+ years is suddenly there, Heaven goes from being that “obscure place far away” to a very real place — a destination, even.

In the days following my brother’s departure from this world, I wrestled with my faith. Why had my only brother been taken from me? Why would the world have to miss out on all of the good he was doing? Why had the rug been pulled from underneath him at such a young age? Most of all, Why had God allowed this?

At Billy’s service our pastor shared the following:

Billy Wondergem has gone to be with God.

Billy is embraced by God’s love and care and joy.

Billy is at peace.

He is home.

“Home”. What did that mean? He wasn’t home. I would go back home to our house and for the first time, he wouldn’t be there.

I suppose it was pretty easy for me to sit in the church pew all those years and passively believe in “that place called Heaven.” But now that my brother was there, I questioned — at times even doubted — its existence. For weeks, I struggled with the never-ending stream of “what if’s”. I wanted it to be real, more than anything. But to me, it seemed too ambiguous for the person that had been at my side; that I had shared a room with, fought with, traveled with — done everything with — to suddenly be there.

In the weeks that followed, I dove in to some books people had sent me, and spent a lot of time reflecting on my faith. It was then that I began to see God’s hand in the bigger picture. I thought back to that morning of October 26th. I had awoken suddenly around 3:00 A.M. for no apparent reason (not all that uncommon living in a fraternity, but this particular morning it was abnormally quiet). Knowing what I know now, I firmly believe it was Billy’s ‘goodbye’ as he left this world and continued home to “that place called Heaven” — one last gift that God had enabled. In the years since, the feelings of anger and questioning of why has morphed into gratitude for all that God has given me. In the midst of such loss, he’s opened so many doors, put so many incredible people in my life, and through it all, shown me the beauty in life. I’ve begun to see Heaven not only in my affirmed faith in its existence, but in the incredible people at my side, and in all of the acts of kindness of those around me.

So why am I sharing this? Maybe given the current state of affairs in our country, we could all use a positive message. Or maybe you recently lost someone you love, struggling with answers to the “why”, having doubts about where that person is and wondering how or why such traumatic loss could be allowed. In recent weeks and months, I’ve witnessed too many people I care deeply about endure the painful experience of burying a sibling, child or close friend, snatched from their lives at such a young age. I’d have to imagine that, like me, they’re wrestling with their own questions, wondering how such hurt could be a part of God’s plan. Perhaps the hope that’s gained in knowing they’ll see that person again is enough to get them through.

People sometimes ask me what I admire most about my brother. His caring spirit? His go-getting, positive attitude? His intellect and passion for finding a cure to some of the world’s greatest illnesses? His athletic abilities? These were all things I admire greatly about the life my brother led. But if I had to boil it down to one thing, one thing that made him who he was, that directed all other aspects of his life, it would be his faith.

That morning of October 26th, 2010, a light went out for many of us. But for Billy, the dawn had come. My brother’s address has changed to Heaven, and one day, ours will too.