In the sweet by and by, we shall meet on that beautiful shore
I’ll fly away, oh glory, I’ll fly away
When the role is called up yonder, I’ll be there
Across Appalachian hills, western plains, Midwestern cornfields, the palms and pines of the Deep South, and countless places in between, the faithful gather each week in little, white, steeple-topped churches. They then sing, with the help of an old organ or piano, about the world to come.
When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be.
A quick survey of their hymnbooks will reveal an oversample of songs that express a longing for heaven.
I’ve got a mansion, just over the hilltop.
Why does this particular strain of hymn feature so prominently in the rural corners of the Christian world? Furthermore, isn’t it problematic to be focused on the world to come, considering the problems, challenges, and mission down here?
To understand the conviction in which a small gathering belts out “We’re marching to Zion, beautiful, beautiful Zion,” it may help to put yourself in the shoes of an early pioneer in Oregon territory, a late 19th century coal miner in East Kentucky, a logger’s wife in northern Maine or Michigan, or a dust-bowl farmer staring at dry, cracked soil. In each of these roles, you likely would have experienced the death of at least one child, pain all across your overworked body, and the uncertainty of an occupation determined by forces outside of your control.
I’m pressing on the upward way,
New heights I’m gaining every day,
Still praying as I’m upward bound,
Lord, plant my feet on higher ground.
When I moved to Southern Appalachia a few years ago, I was hit with the full bleakness of what life is like here for so many. Poverty, drugs, prison, domestic violence, and a lack of hope are the norm for many families, often generationally. But in the midst of the bleakness, there remains a robust hope for the future – but often it’s the eternal future, not one on this earth.
It would be very easy to criticize and critique these people and others like them for being so “heavenly-minded.” While they are singing about the world to come, many of their own communities fall into disrepair and ruin. Jobs are offshored, drugs invade, and cultural erosion amplifies.
When life is wracked with pain and difficulty, it’s natural to long for something better.
Awhile back, I was working in a rural Tennessee school during the annual testing period. I was assigned as a proctor to a number of students who were given small-group testing, and I also did make-up testing for students who had been absent. On one of the last days of testing, I was giving a test to a young girl around 9 or 10 who had missed a test the week before. Because of the testing rules, even if she finished her test in 15 minutes (which she did) she still had to sit in the room for a full 75 minutes. Rather than sit awkwardly for the full period, I tried to engage her in conversation. I asked about what she liked about school, what classes she preferred, and what books she liked to read.
About 20 minutes into our conversation, she started to tell me about a book that she loved, but that had been “burned up in the fire.” I asked what she was talking about, and she spent the next 45 minutes telling me about how her family had all died in a fire two years before on New Year’s Eve. She had been sick and was resting at her grandparents’ house when the family, dogs, and cats included, had all perished.
She had on a t-shirt with the words “Jesus saves” blazoned on the front. I asked about how she was dealing with the loss and how her relationship with Jesus helped her. I’ll never forget her words, the words of a girl not yet in her pre-teen years: “I feel like I’m excited because I know that one day soon, when I die, I’ll get to see them again.”
Getting Christians to act where and when they are is incredibly important. For far too long, especially in the US, there’s been too much complacency and much ground has been lost to the erosive forces of sin and secularism. But it’s also prudent to balance “Onward Christian Soldiers” with “Soon the pearly gates will open, we shall tread the streets of gold.”
Like a farmer, we plant, we till, we weed, and harvest, but we keep our greatest hope fixed on the horizon.
