Chapter Twelve: The Hope of Glory—Resurrection, Reunion, and the Renewal of All Things
“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.” —Revelation 21:4, KJV
We have written about your birth.
We have written about forty-two days in the NICU.
We have written about the love of the church and family.
We have written about your smile.
We have written about the sound of the piano.
We have written about your birthday.
We have written about thirteen days in the PICU.
We have written about 4:44 p.m. on August 21, 2024.
We have written about the final embrace.
And we have written about the traces you left in the lives of others.
Having come this far, a father naturally lifts his head and asks:
What, ultimately, is our hope?
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We Do Not Overcome Death by Imagination
After losing someone we deeply love, it is natural to imagine heaven.
We wonder:
Where is he now?
What is he doing?
Is he free from pain?
Is he singing?
Is he waiting for us?
I have imagined these things too.
In the earlier “A Father's Message,” I preserved these images that genuinely belong to a father's heart.
But now, as we come to the final theological resting place of this whole book, I want to distinguish more clearly:
Imagination can comfort us, but imagination cannot become the foundation of faith.
Scripture has not given us a documentary about the details of Little Wheat's life at this moment.
Therefore, we will not say:
“We know he is now sitting on the Father's lap singing a particular song.”
We will not say:
“We know he is now waiting in heaven for Daddy and Mommy.”
We will not say:
“We know how he is now watching us.”
These can be tender imaginings in a father's heart.
But they are not revelations we have the right to claim.
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What We Truly Know Is This: Christ Has Risen
Christian hope was not created after we lost Little Wheat.
It had already been written into the gospel long before we were born.
Jesus died.
Jesus was buried.
Jesus rose on the third day.
Therefore Paul says:
“But now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the firstfruits of them that slept.” —1 Corinthians 15:20, KJV
This is where we can truly stand when we face death.
Not:
“I can imagine a very beautiful place.”
But:
Christ's tomb is empty.
Christian hope, therefore, is not a denial of death.
It is the declaration:
Death is real, but it does not have the final authority.
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Our Hope Is Not Merely That “The Soul Went to Heaven”
The original manuscript had already expressed a very important direction:
“We believe not only that the soul goes to heaven, but also in the future resurrection of the body.”
This direction must become central to the canonical edition.
Because the Bible's final hope is not merely:
“After death, a person leaves the body and goes somewhere else.”
The final hope is:
Christ returns.
The dead are raised.
The body is redeemed.
Death is destroyed.
All things are renewed.
Therefore, we will not write heaven as the place where the whole story finally stops.
Our eyes must continue looking forward.
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Intermediate State: Remaining Quiet Where We Do Not Know
Concerning the state after death and before bodily resurrection, the Christian tradition possesses a real hope of faith.
We entrust Little Wheat to the love and justice of God.
But we do not need to go beyond Scripture and fill in every detail.
Some things we can believe.
Some things we can only infer.
Some things we can only hope.
Some things we do not know.
This is not a failure of faith.
It is the humility proper to creatures.
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Concerning Our Child
One of the deepest questions for parents who have lost a child is naturally:
What about my child?
This book will not pretend to solve every theological question concerning the salvation of infants and young children through a simple formula.
What we truly can do is:
entrust Little Wheat to the God who has revealed Himself to us in Jesus Christ.
We know Him to be holy.
He is righteous.
He is loving.
He is not a God more indifferent than parents.
Therefore, our hope concerning Little Wheat is not built on what cognitive understanding, behavior, or religious performance the child himself completed.
It is built on:
the character of God and the grace of Christ.
This is our pastoral hope.
We do not package inferences beyond the range of revelation as absolute knowledge.
But with faith, we can entrust our child to God.
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I Hope to Meet You Again
So, Little Wheat,
Daddy is still willing to say:
I hope to see you again.
Not because I have already received a map from heaven.
Nor because I know every detail of what reunion will be like.
But because Christian resurrection hope allows a father, when facing death, still to look forward.
Of course I imagine:
Perhaps one day I will see your face again.
Perhaps I will hear your voice.
Perhaps I will truly hold you.
These are still pictures in Daddy's heart.
But now I know:
What truly matters is not whether these pictures happen exactly as I imagine them.
What truly matters is:
On that day, we will all belong to Christ.
We will all be in His renewed creation.
There will be no more death.
That is enough.
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“New Heaven and New Earth” Is Not an Escape from the Created World
The final hope in Revelation is beautiful.
It is not that human beings escape the world forever.
Rather:
God renews creation.
The holy city comes down.
God dwells with humanity.
Death passes away.
Crying passes away.
Pain passes away.
Therefore Revelation 21:4 does not merely tell grieving people:
“One day you will feel a little better.”
It declares a reality far greater than personal psychological comfort:
God will finally say “No” to death itself.
That is why we can weep before a grave without despair.
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We Still Live in the “Not Yet”
But today is not yet that day.
Hospitals still exist today.
Death still exists.
Parents still lose children.
People still cry.
We still miss Little Wheat.
So this book does not end in a tone that pretends we have already entered Revelation 21.
We are still waiting.
Christ has risen—this is the “already.”
Death has not yet been completely destroyed—this is the “not yet.”
The Christian life is lived between the two.
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Therefore, We Continue Living with Hope
The original manuscript said:
“We preach, sing hymns, comfort people, help people, and continue to ‘bear fruit’...”
I am willing to preserve this.
But our goal is not to live forever inside remembrance.
It is to continue carrying today's responsibilities in hope.
We still preach.
We still sing.
We still love people.
We still accompany those who are suffering.
We still serve the church.
We still eat, work, sleep, laugh, and we still cry.
Because resurrection hope does not cause us to stop living our earthly lives.
Quite the opposite:
It gives today direction.
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Little Wheat,
we will not forget you.
But neither will we make you the center of our faith.
Jesus is the center.
You are not our Savior.
You are our son.
Our “Little Wheat.”
A child who was deeply loved, is remembered, and has made us long more deeply for resurrection.
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So, as this book comes to its end, we do not leave our eyes fixed on a grave.
Nor do we leave them fixed on a heavenly garden imagined by a father.
We lift our eyes and wait for:
the return of the Lord Jesus Christ.
the resurrection of the dead.
the complete destruction of death.
God to wipe away tears.
the new heaven and new earth.
the true renewal of creation.
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What will that day be like?
I do not know every detail.
But Scripture has already told us enough:
Death will not win.
Christ will.
Therefore, Little Wheat is not a book declaring, “We have moved beyond grief.”
It is a book that still carries tears, yet walks toward resurrection.
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Because our hope is not in death.
Not in our imagination.
Not in Little Wheat.
Our hope is in Jesus Christ.
Amen.