What is your idea of heaven? If asked to draw an image of it, what would you come up with? I’ve found that people may often be unwilling to either say exactly what they think heaven is like, or to create their own image of it. And then they seem held back by ideas of “eternal rest” or heaven as static and changeless – something we cannot relate to in this world at all.
Back in December last year, during a Quiet Day at my local retreat house, Offa House in Offchurch, Leamington Spa, we were invited by our leader, Revd. Ruth Tuschling, to “draw a picture of heaven”. I went into the garden room – my favourite room in this retreat house, which has a tranquil, spiritual atmosphere – to find art materials laid out. I took up oil pastels and watercolour paper and began to draw sweeping lines, not quite sure what they might reveal.
To me, heaven is not heaven if it is not dynamic and creative and vibrant. I’ve heard it said that heaven is a place where God “holds our lost dreams safe for us”. My dreams involve communicating, entertaining, captivating… a rushing wind would more closely represent them. Notice these are all verbs. They are all about activity, about “doing”. Is there no “doing” in heaven?
In the past I’ve thought of heaven as if it was a celestial version of Switzerland – snow-capped peaks, waterfalls, and alpine meadows bright with flowers. I’ve imagined glorious fragrances – pine, lemon, lavender, and have seen waves of golden gorse and purple heather, and heard the tumbling water of a mountain stream, birdsong, the music of the spheres… Further back, when I was younger, I visualised heaven as a reunion with my dog who had just died, Kimmings (a miniature silver poodle). He would come running to meet me, barking gladly, his tail wagging. But now, what image would I depict? Certainly not angels with harps on clouds. And dare I even make a representation that somehow limited this most inexpressible of subjects?
So instead, I began a sketch that, to my delight, I later found echoed by an art installation at the “Lost in Lace” exhibition at the Birmingham Art Gallery: “a thin line between space and matter“. I created something that conveyed, however obscurely, how I felt about being in heaven, what kind of experience it might be, in terms of sensation and consciousness. And when my curving lines had caught me up and swept me into the space at the centre, I added a few words – any quotation at all that I could remembe, about heaven – because, as a writer, I believe there must be words in heaven too, as words have given me as much joy as images.
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