Chapter 3 - Who art in Heaven

The heaven which is the abode of God is not the visible, material heaven where the stars shine. That dome was created for our use; and before it existed, as after it shall be destroyed, God was and will be forever in the heaven which belongs to Himself; that is to say, in His own immensity. He has no other place than Himself. He exists nowhere, neither in the manner of any body, nor in that of other spirit. The Scriptures have represented heaven as the dwelling-place of God only to accommodate itself to our imperfect manner of thinking, to help us understand that His abode is where light, order, and purity reign; but it is a light, an order, and a purity that surpass all our imaginations and conceptions. Whatever may be our notion of the true heaven, where we hope one day to live, our Father is in heaven, and we are upon the earth. Heaven is then our true country; that is, the region where our Father dwells: and the earth is our place of exile, a foreign sojourn where we only stop in passing, and where we have no fixed abode. Our Father does not appear to our sight; we know Him only by His works, and by what faith reveals concerning Him: consequently, we can never be happy till we shall be where we can see Him as He is.

Heaven, the dwelling of our Father, is the assemblage of all true, substantial, immutable, eternal good. The good which the world offers has nothing real, except as it concerns the present life, which is only a dream, a vapor which vanishes as soon as it appears. Its good is only a vain appearance; it has no consistence; it is passing away, and will some day be destroyed. At the moment of death, it will exist for us no longer. This being so, as we cannot doubt, what folly to attach ourselves to earth, for which we were not made, and which was made only for our bodily needs during the time of our exile! What folly to seek an establishment here, an enduring fortune, or true happiness, as if we could find them; to have a longing desire for these things, to be eager and anxious for them; to form projects, the success of which often only tends to torment us! What greater folly than to sacrifice conscience and eternal salvation to the acquisition and possession of this false wealth! How can we be so blinded by our passions? Where is our reason? Where is our faith? Even though all were to be ended with us at death, even though we should die without any hope of life beyond the grave, without any hope of heaven, ought we not, even for our own comfort, to be moderate in desire, and in the use of worldly goods? Oh! how is it that we can so debase ourselves? That we can forget, disdain, and trample under foot, our high destination? Our Father has created us only for Himself and for heaven. All that is not God is too small for the vast capacity of my soul. I carry in the depths of my heart a desire for immortality. The very idea of annihilation horrifies me. My dearest and constant wish is to be forever and forever happy. Faith shows me heaven as the place of my eternal felicity; it shows it to me as the heritage which our Father has promised, which His only Son has acquired at the cost of His blood; to which I have a right by my title of Christian and child of God; of which I cannot be deprived except by my own fault: yet I do not turn all my thoughts and affections towards heaven; I do not sigh incessantly after it; I do not march to my country by the way Christ has marked out; I do not remove all obstacles, and surmount all the difficulties which lie in my path. I pause, I turn away, I recoil; I make little effort to recall to mind the thought of heaven. Too often, alas! I am occupied only with the world; I incline towards it like the animals. I become attached to it; I lose myself in it. I should even be tempted sometimes to sacrifice heaven, if I might remain always upon earth, although assured by constant experience that I am not, and cannot be, happy here. Is this conceivable? Yet this is what most Christians do; perhaps what I have done, what I may do again. Though I may not have carried things to this excess, have I not at least cause to reproach myself for esteeming and loving this world too much; for taking pride in my wealth, or being ashamed and wretched because of my poverty; for preferring myself to those who are more lowly born, who have less wealth, less honor, less power, less influence, than myself; or for envying those who are superior to me in all these vain advantages; for thinking more of preserving and increasing them, than of amassing a treasure of grace and glory for heaven? Notwithstanding all this, I still say every day, "Our Father who art in heaven;" but in saying it, I have much difficulty in raising my thoughts and my desires to heaven. I aspire very feebly to the happiness of seeing and possessing my Father. I do not languish like the saints in expectation of the moment which will unite me to Him. On the contrary, I am tempted to fear that moment, and to banish it from my remembrance. Is it that I do not love my Father enough? Is it that I feel too far removed from the holiness necessary to enjoy His presence? Is it that I do not make sufficient effort to acquire this holiness? Oh, how I should humiliate myself and be confounded! But, O God, let me not remain in this state! Let me rather change my heart and conduct. I wish it, and it is Thou who makest me wish it. Continue and finish in me this work of Thy grace; and if necessary, plant so much pain and bitterness over the few days I have to pass on earth, that, in spite of natural desire, I may be compelled to sigh incessantly after the blessedness of eternity!

- from The Christian Sanctified by the Lord's Prayer, by Father Jean Nicolas Grou