Heaven’s Attractions by Nevins

The Seventh-day Adventist Publishing Association · Battle Creek, Michigan · Jan 12, 1864

Heaven’s Attractions.

By Nevins

I HAVE been thinking of the attractions of heaven—what there is in heaven to draw souls to it. I thought of the place. Heaven has place. Christ says to his disciples, “I go to prepare a place for you.” It is a part of the consolation with which he comforts them, that heaven is a place, and not a mere state. What a place it must be! Selected out of all the locations of the universe—the chosen spot of space. We see, even on earth, places of great beauty, and we can conceive of spots far more delightful than any we see. But what comparison can those bear to heaven, where

every thing exceeds whatever eye has seen or imagination conceived? The earthly paradise must have been a charming spot. But what was that to the heavenly? What the paradise assigned to the first Adam, who was of the earth, earthy, compared with that purchased by the second Adam, who is the Lord from heaven? It is a “purchased possession.” The price it cost the purchaser every one knows. Now, having purchased it, he has gone to prepare it—to set it in order—to lay out his skill upon it. Oh what a place Jesus will make—has already made—heaven! The place should attract us.

Then I thought of the freedom of the place from the evils of earth. Not only what is in heaven, should attract us to it, but what is not there. And what is not there? There is no night there. Who does not want to go where no night is? No night—no natural night—none of its darkness, its damps, its drowsiness—and no moral night—no ignorance—no error—no misery—no sin. These all belong to the night; and there is no night in heaven. And why no night there? What shines there so perpetually? It is not any natural luminary. It is a moral radiance that lights up heaven. “The glory of God doth lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.” No need have they there of other light. This shines every where and on all. All light is sweet, but no light is like this.

And not only no night there, but “no more curse.” Christ redeemed them from the curse of the law, being made a curse for them. And “no more death.” The last enemy is overcome at last. Each as he enters the place, shouts victoriously, “O death—O grave!” “Neither sorrow.” It is here. O yes. It is here—around, within. We hear it; we see it; and at length we feel it. But it is not there. “Nor crying”—no expression of grief. “Neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.” And what becomes of tears? Are they left to dry up? Nay, God wipes them away. And this is a sure sign they will never return. What shall cause weeping, when he wipes away tears?

I have not said there is no sin in heaven. I have not thought that necessary. If sin was there, night would be there, and the curse, and death, and all the other evils—the train of sin. These are not there. Therefore sin is not. No, “we shall be like him; for we shall see him as he is.”

What is there then, since these are not? Day is there—and there is the blessing that maketh rich—and there is life, immortality—and since no sorrow, joy—“fullness of joy—joy unspeakable”—and smiles where tears were—and there they rest, not from their labors only, but from cares, and doubts, and fears. And glory is there, an “exceeding and eternal weight.”

Then I thought of the society. It is composed of the elite of the Universe. The various orders of angels who kept their first estate—as humble as they are high—not ashamed of men. Why should they be, when the Lord of angels is not ashamed to call us brethren? The excellent of the earth also will be there—all the choice spirits of every age and nation—the first man—the first martyr—the translated patriarch—the survivor of the deluge—the friend of God, and his juniors, Isaac and Israel—Moses, the lawgiver, and Joshua the leader of the host—the pious kings—the prophets—the evangelists and apostles, Paul, John—the martyrs—the reformers—the Puritan fathers—the missionaries, Swartz, Brainerd, Martyn—Carey and Morrison.

Is that all? Where will be he who used to keep “father, mother,”—thy child? Passing out of your hands, passed he not into those of Jesus? Yes, you suffered him. If any other than Jesus had said, “Suffer them to come unto me,” you would have said, No. Death does not forever quench those recently struck sparks of intelligence. Jesus is not going to lose one of those little brilliants. All shall be in his crown.

Perhaps thou hast a brother, or a sister who will be there; that should draw you toward heaven. Perhaps a mother—she whose eye wept while it watched over thee, until at length it grew dim, and closed. Took she not in her cold hand, thine, while yet her heart was warm, and said she not, “I am going to Jesus. Follow me there?” Perhaps one nearer, dearer than child, than brother, than mother—the nearest, dearest will be there. Shall I say who? Christian female, thy husband, Christian father, the young mother of thy babes. He is not. She is not. Has heaven no attractions? Heaven is gaining in attractions every day. True, the principal attractions continue the same. But the lesser ones multiply. Some have attractions there now, which they had not but a few months ago. Earth is losing. How fast it has been losing of late! But earth’s losses are heaven’s gains. They who have left so many dwelling places of earth desolate, will be in their Father’s house in heaven. What if they shall not return to us? We shall go to them. That is better.

But the principal attractions I have not yet mentioned. There is our Father—our heavenly Father, whom we have so often addressed as such in prayer. He that nourished and brought us up, and has borne us on—he that has watched over us with an eye that never sleeps, and provided for us with a hand that never tires; and who can pity too. We have never seen our heavenly Father. But there he reveals himself. There he smiles; and the nations of the saved walk in the light of his countenance.

And there is he, to depart and be with whom Paul desired, as being “far better” than to live. There is his glorified humanity. If not having seen, we love him; and in him, though now we see him not, yet believing, we rejoice with joy unspeakable and full of glory, what will be the love and the joy when “we shall see him as he is?” There is he.

Heaven has attractions—many, and strong—and yet who would think it? How few feel and obey the heavenly attraction! How much more powerfully earth acts upon us! How unwilling we are to leave it even for heaven! — Nevins.