As previously noted, Mom and I played “Mansion Over the Hilltop” last Sunday on our accordions. The song title comes from the King James version of John 14:2: “In my father’s house are many mansions….I go to prepare a place for you.” The American Standard Version also talks about mansions.

But Jesus told a different story to other translators:

• NIV: “In my father’s house are many rooms.”
• New American Standard: “In My Father’s house are many dwelling places.”
• The Message: “There is plenty of room for you in my Father’s home.”
• New Living: “There is more than enough room in my Father’s home.”
• CEV: “There are many rooms in my Father’s house.”

So it’s not clear if we have a mansion, or just a room in God’s mansion. But let’s assume we do have our own private mansion.

• Does it have a bathroom? Is one needed? If so, where does the waste go? And more importantly: Is there reading material?
• Is there a kitchen? Do we need to eat? (If we have a kitchen, I guess we need a bathroom.)
• Do we even need bedrooms in heaven? Do we sleep there?
• What do we put in the closets?
• What do we do in the mansion? If we don’t sleep, eat, or watch TV–why hang out there, rather than in God’s presence?
• Does each individual have a mansion, or are mansions distributed on a family basis?
• Will Pam and I share a mansion? What if I die and Pam remarries? Will both husbands occupy the mansion with her?
• Is there a garage? A yard? Curtains on windows? Skylights?
• Are there locks on the doors?
• Does each person who dies in infancy get a mansion? (Or each unborn child, assuming life begins at conception?)

If heaven is one big mansion–God’s house–and we just have a room there, then you still have to wonder: why do we need a room?

Heaven will, of course, be totally different from anything we can imagine. Even different from what Jesus could imagine? Hmmm. Jesus knew he was divine, but I’m guessing he didn’t have “memories” of heaven. He grew up as a human, subject to all those limitations. I’m sure the reality of heaven was far more fathomable to Jesus than it is to me, yet still largely unfathomable, because he–Jesus the man–hadn’t been to heaven.

I realize I could be unwittingly committing all kinds of heresies and incredibly shoddy theology. So I’m a dufus.

From Chris Elrod, a church planter and former Christian comedian in Florida: “I could care less what the ‘experts’ or books say about small groups. We’ve read them…been to the conferences…and they’ve ALL been wrong for us.”

Here are two thoughts from Gary Lamb, whose blog I just started following. He’s a church planter in Canton, Ga., a town of 20,000. He has a heart for small towns. His church is starting a new church in a town of 7,000, and is looking at three other towns of less than 15,000.

“Why does everyone want to only go to white-collar suburbs or college towns to plant churches? We would rather plant where there are 20 others churches as opposed to going to urban and rural areas. Romans 10:14 haunts me here.”

Since you’re wondering what Romans 10:14 says, here it is: “How then shall they call on him in whom they have not believed? and how shall they believe in him of whom they have not heard? and how shall they hear without a preacher?”

I occasionally harp about the evangelical lovefest for the suburbs (like here and here). We want to go where there is growth, and that always means those former corn fields on the city’s edge being turned into tree-less housing developments for the middle class.

This ties in nicely with this next thought from Lamb:

“It can’t be all about numbers. Trust me, I am a number freak but it has to be about community impact. A church of 500 in a town of 16,000 will have a stronger community impact than a church of 5,000 in a city of 250,000.”

It’s the big fish, small pond deal. Anchor is a church of 100, and we can kick our low-esteemed butts all the way to Timbuktu for being so infinitesimal. But the number 100 in no way represents the number of people whose lives we’ve influenced during the past ten years. We’ve made a difference in our urban community, and our presence makes that community better.

Meanwhile, a bunch of megachurches ring the city, with multi-million-dollar facilities, well-groomed kids, amazing Sunday services, and other good things. And people drive for an hour to get there. But quite often, these churches are regional. There is no community. No town they are making better. They’re still doing good work. But I wish The Church could see the value of going into poorer parts of the city, as opposed to trying to attract those people to our suburban cathedrals.