On the difference between heaven and purgatory

I’ve read in many places that as a Bible-believing Christian, I’m not supposed to believe in purgatory. But allow me if you will, along with C. S. Lewis and more than a few others, a moment to contemplate that possibility in faith. If only as a theological exercise.

A story from my life as a pastor goes like this. When my daughter Betta, who is now 14 and can’t stand my guts, was between 6 and 7, I would take her along with me on hospital visits whenever I could.

I put myself in the shoes of the one I was to visit. Whom would I rather talk to: some guy with a beard and glasses, or a hippity-hoppity 6 year old lass who smiles from head to toe? Easy question.

Once upon a time, I took her to see a man who was on his deathbed. One of his daughters was a faithful, prayerful Christian, and she pleaded with me to visit her Dad because he was sick and about to die, though he hadn’t darkened a church door for decades or shown interest in God except in the usual sort of way just about everyone does.

Of course I said I’d go. I explained to Betta in the elevator as we went to his room, “The man we are going to see is very sick and about to die. We just want to spend some time with him, show we care, and pray with him.” Her deep brown eyes grew wide as I told her.

When we went into the room, Betta climbed up in bed with the man, took his hands, and asked him with glowing eyes: “Can you show me your ouwies?”

For the next 20 minutes, I was a perfect spectator. The man came alive as he had not been alive for months. They described each other’s ouwies to each other. They showed off their battle scars to each other. Betta’s were almost invisible, but she seemed to remember which toe she had stubbed, which elbow she had once bruised.

The man’s eyes sparkled. I realized that nothing that happened in those fleeting minutes changed his prognosis. But when the three of us held hands and prayed together, her little hands in our big hands, I sensed that some healing had occurred.

A moment like that is what I call “heaven on earth.” In this vale of tears, I’m not sure it gets better than that.

Now, if an experience like that is “heaven on earth,” what might purgatory be like? I see it this way.

It’s when two people who have treated each other badly – perhaps in the context of marriage, perhaps in the context of friendship or a religious community, perhaps in the context of a relationship with a 14 year old daughter – describe the hurt they have done to each other, and the other listens until they both understand.

That is purgatory on earth. It can lead to reconciliation, though that is far from given. In this life, some tears are never wiped away.

In purgatory with a capital “P,” if there is one, I imagine that we will have to learn of all the times and places we hurt someone else. We will have to hear of the harm we did from the mouth of our victims, relive it from their point of view, as we look in their eyes, and they look into ours.

I’m happy to say that I can now take Anna my five year old on visits. And I do. She also steals the show. As it should be.

I believe in purgatory. For the reasons C. S. Lewis indicates (see the link above).

Comments

[Iyov]

I hope that the ouwies keeping you in purgatory quickly heal, and you can get back to heaven. Or a plenary indulgence.

[JohnFH]

Thanks, Iyov.

If you have some yourself you are nursing, I wish the same for you.

[Claudia]

Thank you for the good word in the Carnival.

This article was well done. I very much enjoyed the story of your daughter visiting in the hospital.
I recently did a short post on the concept of a metaphorical limbo and was interested in a Christian take on purgatory. As far as redeemed believers though, "we are washed" a "new creation" and "he has paid the price" with his blood, and etc.

[JohnFH]

Thank you for your excellent blog.

I understand that "we are washed," etc., but that doesn't exclude the other. In the same way, our sin was judged on Calvary, but will be judged again on the Last Day; Jesus is our Balm of Gilead now, but the leaves of the tree of life will continue to heal for all eternity (Rev. 22:2).