Model Home of Heaven
A theology professor once asked his students to write a paper that described the Church using a metaphor.
The responses were mostly predictable.
The Church is a hospital for the sick.
The Church is a lighthouse for the lost.
The Church is a refuge from the storm.
One student offered something different:
The Church is a model home of heaven.
I have been thinking about that image since I heard it.
A model home is not the whole neighbourhood. It is a preview.
You walk through the front door and get a taste of what life there could be like.
You see the kitchen.
You sit in the living room.
You feel the light coming through the windows.
And before long, you begin imagining yourself living there.
A good model home makes something future feel present.
Perhaps that is something of what the Church is meant to be.
Jesus taught us to pray:
“Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”
There is a day coming when Christ will make all things new. But Jesus also announced that the Kingdom of God had already come near.
The future has begun breaking into the present.
Not completely.
Not perfectly.
But steadily.
Irreversibly.
And the Church is supposed to be one of the places where people can see it.
If heaven is a place where Christ reigns completely, then the Church ought to be a place where His reign is increasingly visible.
If heaven is marked by reconciliation, then the Church ought to be learning how to forgive.
If heaven is marked by truth, then honesty should be safe among God's people.
If heaven is marked by justice, then the vulnerable should find protection.
If heaven is marked by generosity, then Christians should hold their possessions loosely.
If heaven gathers every tribe, language, people and nation around the throne of Jesus, then the divisions that dominate the world ought to lose some of their power inside the Church.
A model home is not the finished community.
But it ought to show us something true about what is coming.
The same developer who builds the model home is also building the community around it.
The floorplans may differ. The neighbourhood may take years to complete. But there should be continuity of architecture and quality.
The same hands are at work.
The same design is present.
The same builder stands behind it all.
We are not building the Kingdom ourselves. Christ is the builder.
But the Church should already bear the marks of the Kingdom He is bringing to completion.
So here is the question:
When people encounter the Church, what kind of future are we showing them?
Jesus said:
“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”
The world is meant to recognize His disciples by the way they live together.
The credibility of our message is connected to the quality of our common life.
Which means discipleship cannot simply be about transferring information.
If God is the architect and Master Builder, then we are His apprentices, learning to build according to His plans.
A builder's apprentice does not learn only by studying blueprints.
At some point they step onto the jobsite.
They watch someone more experienced.
They learn how to measure, how to cut, how to recognize when something is out of square, and how to correct mistakes.
Over time, the apprentice begins to work with the instincts of the master craftsman who trained them.
And no apprentice gets to ignore the plans simply because they have their own ideas about how the building ought to look.
We learn the way of Jesus by practicing the way of Jesus, surrounded by people who have been walking with Him longer than we have.
And then we leave the model home.
The Church gathers, but the Church also scatters.
On Sunday we worship together, hear the Word, pray, receive correction and encouragement, and remember again who our King is.
Then on Monday we go back onto the jobsite.
Into classrooms, offices, hospitals, boardrooms, neighbourhoods, kitchens, actual construction sites and government buildings.
A Christian teacher asks what the dignity of every child requires.
A business leader asks what integrity and generosity look like in the marketplace.
A physician remembers that the person in front of them bears the image of God.
A politician asks what justice and neighbour-love require.
A parent practices patience and grace at the dinner table.
An artist creates something beautiful and true.
The goal is not for the Church to control every part of society.
The goal is for Christians to live faithfully under the lordship of Christ in every part of life.
There is no corner of creation in which Jesus stops being Lord.
And so the Church has two responsibilities.
When we are gathered, we should increasingly become a community that looks like the Kingdom.
When we are scattered, we should carry the character of that Kingdom wherever God has placed us.
Perhaps that is what a model home of heaven really means.
People should be able to walk among the people of God and catch a glimpse of the world God intends to make.
A place where enemies reconcile.
Where the lonely find family.
Where truth is spoken with love.
Where power is used to serve.
Where generosity overcomes greed.
Where forgiveness interrupts revenge.
And perhaps, after spending time among us, someone might begin to imagine:
“If this is what life under the reign of Jesus looks like, maybe I want to live there too.”
The Church is not heaven.
But it is being built by the same Lord who is making all things new.
And by His grace, perhaps we can become a little better at showing the world what His finished community looks like.
A theology professor once asked his students to write a paper that described the Church using a metaphor.
The responses were mostly predictable.
The Church is a hospital for the sick.
The Church is a lighthouse for the lost.
The Church is a refuge from the storm.
One student offered something different:
The Church is a model home of heaven.
I have been thinking about that image since I heard it.
A model home is not the whole neighbourhood. It is a preview.
You walk through the front door and get a taste of what life there could be like.
You see the kitchen.
You sit in the living room.
You feel the light coming through the windows.
And before long, you begin imagining yourself living there.
A good model home makes something future feel present.
Perhaps that is something of what the Church is meant to be.
Jesus taught us to pray:
“Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”
There is a day coming when Christ will make all things new. But Jesus also announced that the Kingdom of God had already come near.
The future has begun breaking into the present.
Not completely.
Not perfectly.
But steadily.
Irreversibly.
And the Church is supposed to be one of the places where people can see it.
If heaven is a place where Christ reigns completely, then the Church ought to be a place where His reign is increasingly visible.
If heaven is marked by reconciliation, then the Church ought to be learning how to forgive.
If heaven is marked by truth, then honesty should be safe among God's people.
If heaven is marked by justice, then the vulnerable should find protection.
If heaven is marked by generosity, then Christians should hold their possessions loosely.
If heaven gathers every tribe, language, people and nation around the throne of Jesus, then the divisions that dominate the world ought to lose some of their power inside the Church.
A model home is not the finished community.
But it ought to show us something true about what is coming.
The same developer who builds the model home is also building the community around it.
The floorplans may differ. The neighbourhood may take years to complete. But there should be continuity of architecture and quality.
The same hands are at work.
The same design is present.
The same builder stands behind it all.
We are not building the Kingdom ourselves. Christ is the builder.
But the Church should already bear the marks of the Kingdom He is bringing to completion.
So here is the question:
When people encounter the Church, what kind of future are we showing them?
Jesus said:
“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”
The world is meant to recognize His disciples by the way they live together.
The credibility of our message is connected to the quality of our common life.
Which means discipleship cannot simply be about transferring information.
If God is the architect and Master Builder, then we are His apprentices, learning to build according to His plans.
A builder's apprentice does not learn only by studying blueprints.
At some point they step onto the jobsite.
They watch someone more experienced.
They learn how to measure, how to cut, how to recognize when something is out of square, and how to correct mistakes.
Over time, the apprentice begins to work with the instincts of the master craftsman who trained them.
And no apprentice gets to ignore the plans simply because they have their own ideas about how the building ought to look.
We learn the way of Jesus by practicing the way of Jesus, surrounded by people who have been walking with Him longer than we have.
And then we leave the model home.
The Church gathers, but the Church also scatters.
On Sunday we worship together, hear the Word, pray, receive correction and encouragement, and remember again who our King is.
Then on Monday we go back onto the jobsite.
Into classrooms, offices, hospitals, boardrooms, neighbourhoods, kitchens, actual construction sites and government buildings.
A Christian teacher asks what the dignity of every child requires.
A business leader asks what integrity and generosity look like in the marketplace.
A physician remembers that the person in front of them bears the image of God.
A politician asks what justice and neighbour-love require.
A parent practices patience and grace at the dinner table.
An artist creates something beautiful and true.
The goal is not for the Church to control every part of society.
The goal is for Christians to live faithfully under the lordship of Christ in every part of life.
There is no corner of creation in which Jesus stops being Lord.
And so the Church has two responsibilities.
When we are gathered, we should increasingly become a community that looks like the Kingdom.
When we are scattered, we should carry the character of that Kingdom wherever God has placed us.
Perhaps that is what a model home of heaven really means.
People should be able to walk among the people of God and catch a glimpse of the world God intends to make.
A place where enemies reconcile.
Where the lonely find family.
Where truth is spoken with love.
Where power is used to serve.
Where generosity overcomes greed.
Where forgiveness interrupts revenge.
And perhaps, after spending time among us, someone might begin to imagine:
“If this is what life under the reign of Jesus looks like, maybe I want to live there too.”
The Church is not heaven.
But it is being built by the same Lord who is making all things new.
And by His grace, perhaps we can become a little better at showing the world what His finished community looks like.
A theology professor once asked his students to write a paper that described the Church using a metaphor.
The responses were mostly predictable.
The Church is a hospital for the sick.
The Church is a lighthouse for the lost.
The Church is a refuge from the storm.
One student offered something different:
The Church is a model home of heaven.
I have been thinking about that image since I heard it.
A model home is not the whole neighbourhood. It is a preview.
You walk through the front door and get a taste of what life there could be like.
You see the kitchen.
You sit in the living room.
You feel the light coming through the windows.
And before long, you begin imagining yourself living there.
A good model home makes something future feel present.
Perhaps that is something of what the Church is meant to be.
Jesus taught us to pray:
“Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”
There is a day coming when Christ will make all things new. But Jesus also announced that the Kingdom of God had already come near.
The future has begun breaking into the present.
Not completely.
Not perfectly.
But steadily.
Irreversibly.
And the Church is supposed to be one of the places where people can see it.
If heaven is a place where Christ reigns completely, then the Church ought to be a place where His reign is increasingly visible.
If heaven is marked by reconciliation, then the Church ought to be learning how to forgive.
If heaven is marked by truth, then honesty should be safe among God's people.
If heaven is marked by justice, then the vulnerable should find protection.
If heaven is marked by generosity, then Christians should hold their possessions loosely.
If heaven gathers every tribe, language, people and nation around the throne of Jesus, then the divisions that dominate the world ought to lose some of their power inside the Church.
A model home is not the finished community.
But it ought to show us something true about what is coming.
The same developer who builds the model home is also building the community around it.
The floorplans may differ. The neighbourhood may take years to complete. But there should be continuity of architecture and quality.
The same hands are at work.
The same design is present.
The same builder stands behind it all.
We are not building the Kingdom ourselves. Christ is the builder.
But the Church should already bear the marks of the Kingdom He is bringing to completion.
So here is the question:
When people encounter the Church, what kind of future are we showing them?
Jesus said:
“By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”
The world is meant to recognize His disciples by the way they live together.
The credibility of our message is connected to the quality of our common life.
Which means discipleship cannot simply be about transferring information.
If God is the architect and Master Builder, then we are His apprentices, learning to build according to His plans.
A builder's apprentice does not learn only by studying blueprints.
At some point they step onto the jobsite.
They watch someone more experienced.
They learn how to measure, how to cut, how to recognize when something is out of square, and how to correct mistakes.
Over time, the apprentice begins to work with the instincts of the master craftsman who trained them.
And no apprentice gets to ignore the plans simply because they have their own ideas about how the building ought to look.
We learn the way of Jesus by practicing the way of Jesus, surrounded by people who have been walking with Him longer than we have.
And then we leave the model home.
The Church gathers, but the Church also scatters.
On Sunday we worship together, hear the Word, pray, receive correction and encouragement, and remember again who our King is.
Then on Monday we go back onto the jobsite.
Into classrooms, offices, hospitals, boardrooms, neighbourhoods, kitchens, actual construction sites and government buildings.
A Christian teacher asks what the dignity of every child requires.
A business leader asks what integrity and generosity look like in the marketplace.
A physician remembers that the person in front of them bears the image of God.
A politician asks what justice and neighbour-love require.
A parent practices patience and grace at the dinner table.
An artist creates something beautiful and true.
The goal is not for the Church to control every part of society.
The goal is for Christians to live faithfully under the lordship of Christ in every part of life.
There is no corner of creation in which Jesus stops being Lord.
And so the Church has two responsibilities.
When we are gathered, we should increasingly become a community that looks like the Kingdom.
When we are scattered, we should carry the character of that Kingdom wherever God has placed us.
Perhaps that is what a model home of heaven really means.
People should be able to walk among the people of God and catch a glimpse of the world God intends to make.
A place where enemies reconcile.
Where the lonely find family.
Where truth is spoken with love.
Where power is used to serve.
Where generosity overcomes greed.
Where forgiveness interrupts revenge.
And perhaps, after spending time among us, someone might begin to imagine:
“If this is what life under the reign of Jesus looks like, maybe I want to live there too.”
The Church is not heaven.
But it is being built by the same Lord who is making all things new.
And by His grace, perhaps we can become a little better at showing the world what His finished community looks like.