Mansions in Heaven?

Jesus said: “In my Father’s house there are many mansions.” Wait a minute. Did I say “mansions?” Scratch that. He didn’t really say “mansions.” What do you mean “he didn’t say ‘mansions’"? I know He did because I memorized it in my KJV from the time I was a toddler.” Well, sorry, He didn’t say “mansions.” He said “dwellings” or “rooms” in the Greek. That’s all --no more, no less. Now, God may still choose to give us a mansion, but if I were you, I wouldn’t be counting on it. He hasn’t promised us one.

My suspicion is that some translators got a little carried away with the dream of some middle class Americans to have the biggest house in the neighborhood. So, once again I say: “erase that idea from your memory bank.” I mean, why would God want to give us “mansions” in heaven? So we can brag about a big house we never built or paid for?

I have wrecked my brain trying to think of reasons why God would want to give us mansions. But I can’t come up with a single one that makes sense. Jesus never lived in a mansion. He was born under the most humble of circumstances. When one of the disciples told him he wanted to follow him, he said that “the birds of the air have nests but the Son of Man does not even have a pillow to rest His head on.” [My translation].

It stands to reason then that if the Messiah didn’t need a mansion, neither do we. Most people around the world don’t live in mansions. Here in Bangui there are many different types of dwellings. A few people live in nice and spacious rooms that need 24-7 security to keep the bandits out. But most people live in humble dwellings. From the Pygmies with their makeshift huts to the mud brick houses and their upgrades built with real bricks and cement.

I can’t say that I have been inside a mansion in Bangui, but all the houses I’ve been to have one thing in common: tons of people live in them. From a U.S. perspective, you would say that these folks don’t have any privacy. A 10x15 dwelling may easily be home for 10-15 people. You do the math. It can be suffocating. It’s the kind of place where you go to lose your individual identity.

Yet the people find harmony in the midst of this apparent chaos. Families become a close knit unit. Work revenue is shared and this does not seem to be an obstacle to meaningful living. I see Christians here who have nothing of the material stuff we’ve grown accustomed to in the West, yet they exude a contagious joy as I’ve only rarely seen the wealthiest parts of

this universe.

This is something we all need to reflect on. But perhaps the reason I think about this stuff so much is because of my own background. Most people haven’t been as fortunate as I am. I was born to a family of 9. Up until the age of 8 I lived on a little island in one of the tributaries of the Amazon. My house was a little hut, built on stilts. I could jump from my window into the river and my grandfather would take me fishing with him from time to time.

So, as I think of heaven, I don’t think of mansions. I think of my little hut on the Amazon. So at times when the demands of the earth seem just a little too unbearable, it is not the vision of streets of gold or the big house with a heavenly SPA that help to keep me going. It’s the thought that maybe I will get my little hut on the Amazon when I go to heaven. Minus the mosquitoes, the bad water and the parasites, of course.

Pastor Ivanildo C. Trindade
ivtrindade@woostergrace.org