I ate oatmeal this morning even though I’m not usually an oatmeal person; I think it was the sermon I heard on Sunday.

Pastor Tim Harris gave an illustration in which he described a large, steamy bowl of oatmeal covered in butter and brown sugar. Just listening to him talk about it made my mouth water.

An elderly woman had fixed that amazing bowl of oatmeal for our pastor. After he savored every bite, he thanked her for her hospitality and the delicious breakfast.

“What?” she said, “That’s not breakfast! That’s just oatmeal.”

Pastor Tim described how she then proceeded to pull one platter after another from the oven, platters full of bacon and biscuits and pancakes and sausage.

That, he said, is an illustration of our lives versus Heaven. Often, we are so content with the oatmeal that we fail to realize there is a feast awaiting.

I think a lot about Heaven since Brandon’s death. I wonder what it looks like, what Brandon is doing, and what I will do when I get there. I’ve always considered myself a creative type of person. I always thought I have a good imagination. But when it comes to Heaven, it’s just hard. No matter how many images I try to conjure in my mind, I am simply unable to imagine what Heaven is really like. I am not alone.

1 Corinthians 2:9 tells me, “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.”

Once, when Brandon was in junior high school, he brought a Japanese friend home to spend the night. At breakfast the next morning, I heard Brandon trying to explain to Kosuke what he was serving for breakfast.

“It’s oats,” he said, “like the stuff you feed horses.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I imagined this poor boy going home to tell his parents that we fed him horse food.

Part of the grief of losing Brandon has been grieving all the things that he missed out on earth, the dreams he had and that we had for him, the things he will never get to do or experience. Sunday’s message helped remind me that in this present life, we are living for the oatmeal.

Sometimes the oatmeal is a creamy, sugary, bowl of bliss, topped with butter and blessings. But, let’s admit it, sometimes, it’s nothing more than horse feed.  Either way, we cling to it because it’s what we know, and, at it’s best, it’s pretty good.

Whether we are enjoying the blessings of this life right now or struggling to be satisfied, we can be certain. If we know Jesus as Lord and Savior, this life is just the oatmeal. No matter what we experience—or don’t get to experience—on this earth, the best is yet to come. The real meal has yet to be served.

Once, when Brandon was young, he watched as Ian prepared bacon. As he finished cooking each piece, Ian would put it on a plate next to Brandon. As fast as Ian would put a piece down, Brandon would eat it. “More chicken!” he said. “More chicken!”

Brandon may have called it by the wrong name, but he loved the taste.

Pastor Tim’s sermon was a wonderful reminder that Heaven is going to be so much more—more than we have ever seen, more than we have ever heard or heard about, more than we can ever even dream. His message has also given me a new way that I imagine Heaven.

I imagine Brandon sitting at a table, elbow to elbow with people he loves, some he knew in this lifetime, and some he is just beginning to get to know. The air is filled with the sounds of laughter and thick with the scent of sugary sweets and fried yummies.  A Heavenly light pours in through the big bay window, warming and illuminating the room with a golden hue. And at the head of the table, across from my son, sits Jesus, smiling fondly as He passes around one especially large plate of bacon.

To listen to Pastor Tim Harris’s complete sermon at Woodburn Baptist Church, click here.