Heaven is a Lake of Beer

I don’t know how much of this post will make sense to you.

Here is my heart:

I have never been happier. I love my life. I love the ocean (ah, the ocean). I love my wife and children. I love my coffee shop. I love my job. I love my study…

I am not satisfied…

Ah, how do I explain it, is it even possible? Some of you will offer me advice and thereby miss the point entirely.

Let me tell you about a cup of tea I had the other day: It was the greatest cup of tea I have ever had in my life. I felt sad when I looked down and found it half empty – this is going to end isn’t it? – Jesus Christ (aka the fulfillment of all desire) wasn’t in the tea.

Last Wednesday night I was body surfing in San Diego. The sky was a deep, magnificent red color as the sun sank into the ocean. Beautiful, beautiful – it hurts. Have you ever seen something so beautiful it made you sad? Of course you bloody have.

Two nights ago I was in Chicago. There was nothing else to eat besides Burger King (what they serve in Hell). Next to Burger King was a great heap of a building called “Heavenly Bodies.” Pain. There must have been men in there who also know this ache, this great surging yearning for – I know not what. They will not find life, as that neon sign insinuated, but only its opposite (Rom. 6:23).

Last semester while studying Philosophy of Nature I nearly fell out of my chair with delight as our professor explained Aristotle’s definition of change: “The actuality of potential as potential.” Immediately after the class I ran to the chapel and fell on my face in adoration. I caught a glimpse, it ravished me and left me aching.

Sum it up for me Lewis:

Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for these desires exists. A baby feels hunger; well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim; well, there is such a thing as water. Men feel sexual desire; well, there is such a thing as sex.

If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world (Mere Christianity, Bk. III, chap. 10, “Hope”).

erg, almost.

Upon my bed by night

I sought him whom my soul loves;

I sought him, but found him not;

I called him, but he gave no answer.

“I will rise now and go about the city,

in the streets and in the squares;

I will seek him whom my soul loves.”

I sought him, but found him not (Song of Songs 3:1-2).

That’s closer.

Oh right, the lake of beer thing: The following is a poem attributed to St. Brigid of Ireland:

I should like a great lake of beer for the King of Kings.

I should like the family of Heaven to be drinking it through time eternal.

I should like excellent meats of belief and pure piety.

I should like the men of Heaven at my house.

I should like barrels of peace at their disposal.

I should like for them cellars of mercy.

I should like cheerfulness to be their drinking.

I should like Jesus to be there among them.

I should like the three Marys of illustrious renown to be with us.

I should like the people of Heaven, the poor, to be gathered around from all parts.

ah, come Lord Jesus, Come my only satisfaction, the fulfillment of all my desires. Come, I want you, I want you, I want you.

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