I’ve been taking a bit of annual leave recently – to sit around hospitals and more recently to help my mother pack up all her belongings ready to move to a flat closer to my sister. Someone at work asked me how I enjoyed my holiday. Well, for a given meaning of the word ‘holiday’, I suppose it was (and is – I’m immersed in the packing this week). It isn’t my idea of a holiday – but then some people do marathons in their holiday. Some camp in primitive tents on lakeshores. Some run the bulls in Pamplona. Some give their time to build houses in storm, earthquake, or flood-torn third world countries. Some ride horses over the mountains from Middlemore to Cromwell. A holiday is, I guess, what works for you.
All this is by way of introducing a post by Bad Catholic. I was going to yield to Toad’s request for a post on Heaven, and begin my post with a quote from Lewis’s Last Battle. But Bad Catholic did it first and better, and even quoted from the Last Battle – although not the quote I had in mind. I was thinking of Aslan’s welcome to Heaven: “The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning.”
Without further ado, I invite you to join Marc as he explains: “Why Modern Man Wouldn’t Like Heaven (If He Had the Balls to Get There)”