When I get to heaven I'm going to keep my eye out for someone. I figure he'll be about six-foot-four, with shoulders so broad that the first question you'll ask will be, "I wonder how much he can bench?" Impressive as his frame is, though, it will be nothing compared to his smile and the utter joy and deep gratitude that will sparkle  forth from his smile and eyes. Knowing Burton, he'll greet me before I have a chance to say anything to him. Even though I'm preparing myself, I figure I'll be awed by the voice. I'm guessing it will be so rich, melodious, strong, and compelling, that one could be spellbound, listening to him read the New York phone book.
I don't know Burton really well. He is a kinda-sorta relative of Kathy's. On occasion he used to visit Kathy's folks. At least once he was a guest in my home. When I was a young teen I remember attending Bible Camp with Burton. He was really too old to be a camper, but the powers-that-were graciously let him join in. Burton's body wasn't shaped quite right. He looked like maybe he had emigrated from middle earth--the last representative of a race of ancient dwarves. His hands were stubby, and, as I remember, he didn't have all ten fingers. When he walked his misshapen feet, and joints that didn't work quite right gave him a gait that made him walk like an old man all his life. I always had to listen carefully to Burton, to tell what he was saying. It always seemed that he needed to clear his throat. His enthusiasm for getting his words out sometimes outran his ability to articulate.
So, when I get to heaven why will I be looking for a man with Hollywood leading-man looks and voice, when the last time I saw him he was a gnarled five-footer with cartoon character diction?
It's because, though I didn't know Burton real well, I knew him well enough to see the beauty of who he really was shine through. Burton prayed for people. No, I mean he really prayed for people and ministries, I was among them. He cared enough to carry on a fairly extensive correspondence with a number of relatives and friends. He had to work hard to write or type, but he did so with far greater faithfulness than most of us who have hands that work as they should. Long before it was common for churches to record their services, Burton--I think because of his compassion for shut-ins and his enormous respect for the power of the Word of God--started recording the services at his church and sending the tapes to people. He had trained his stubby fingers, how ever many there were, to play the piano. He sang with enthusiasm.
In short, Burton was a man who loved his Lord and served Him to the best of his ability.
I think heaven is a place where those who are redeemed by the great sacrifice of our savior will be fully redeemed. I heard various stories about why Burton was born with the deformities that he carried all his earthly life. All the explanations in one way or another have sin at the root. Either something was directly done to Burton when he was being formed in his mother's womb, or his was one of those inexplicable consequences of sin in general. Romans 8 gives the glorious account of the ravages of sin being undone by the power of our redeeming Savior. We presently live in a world in which we, like the rest of creation, groan. We are eternal, image-of-God creatures trapped in a marked-by-sin, time-bound existence. We long to be set free.
I received news that last night, Burton was set free. The beauty that is the wonder of who he is, is no longer hidden and marred by sin. That's why I'll be looking for a tall, handsome gentleman, with kind ways, and a melodious voice.
Welcome home, Burton.
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