What Exactly Is "Heaven"?

The afterlife doesnt seem to be discussed much in terms of its actual qualities. What exactly is heaven? Some say it is being “with God”. At the same time, claim that God is incomprehensible.

Are we human like in heaven? Can we talk to God in heaven? Can I still watch NFL in heaven?

We’re going to be so busy singing and praising God that there won’t be any time for anything else. It’ll kind of be like Church, but without the sermon, and it lasts forever.

I wouldnt mind having eternally good health, the ability to forget something by pushing a button, and still be a human, wake up every day eat food do the naughty then go to sleep. Basically fulfill my animal instincts with no consequence. And have time, resources and health to do what I want. But that kind of power would be sort of terrifying. Being human is pretty cool when everything is going well

Why? We create this reality every day.

So when Jesus tell us that he would not drink of the fruit of the vine until he joins us drinking in his father’s kingdom he was just speaking metaphorically?

I’m in trouble. For me, the homily is something to which I very much look forward. And…I cannot sing. I much prefer the homilies over singing. Any chance of us being able to quietly listen to Jesus speak?

Why would we have human form? What age would we look like?

What kind of afterlife does a child who died at 6 months have? Does he stay 6 mo in appearance? What kind of mind would that soul have since it didn’t develop at all on earth? Do we choose what age we look?

You could always learn to play the harp. You would have enough time over the course of eternity.

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Sigh. I have had a small harp for years. The only songs almost recognizable are Row Your Boat and Jingle Bells. Hearing them makes my daughters giggle.

You have no idea what it is like. After the birth of my first child, I heroically sang her lullabies because I knew that is what good mothers did. As the little thing grew, I could hardly wait for her first words, as she always looked like she was trying hard to say something. She was. Her first words? Not ma-ma or da-da. They were, “Don’t sing.” When I told my husband, his response: “I’m surprised she knew that’s what you were doing.”