Almost heaven: we pray for God's kingdom to come, but we need to be doing more to get it here.

DESCRIBE HEAVEN AS YOU IMAGINE IT TO BE. THIS was easier when we were children. Back then I was sure what my heaven would be like: a place near the ocean where it was never too cold to swim. The everlasting beach had a refreshment stand where the ice cream was free.

Heaven, in my earliest dreams of it, was a simple concept. It had nothing to do with God and everything to do with me. It was reduced to the best hour of my young life, played over and over again without interference from grownups. Heaven was a personal paradise in which I was free from school, blessedly alone, and without responsibility.

By the time I was an adolescent, "heaven" required substantial revision. The beach was still fine, but only if I had the slender body and trouble-free skin to go with the little bathing suit I had in mind. The ice cream stand now had to offer pizza, hot dogs, hamburgers, and fries--all without calories, naturally. And being alone would no longer do: I needed my heaven to come complete with loyal girlfriends and a few admiring fellows. A comfy indoor sanctuary with books and TV would be required to offset the inevitable boredom of eternity.

There could be no loneliness in this endless summer and no betrayals to wound the heart. If I entertained any thought of the beatific vision, it came without obligatory churchy apparatus. After all, if you had to do things in heaven, you might as well stay on earth. I intended to spend my heaven having an unqualified good time.

It would be a while before I stopped embroidering a heaven out of self-interest and started thinking of a time when the wrongs of history would be redressed, the last would be first, peace would reign, and Jesus Christ would be all in all. The longer we live in this world, the more we yearn for a place where evil cannot trespass and every tear will be wiped away. And any heaven worthy of the name must have its starting point beyond this world that proves so disappointing in the long run.

It may take half a lifetime to accept that the world we know cannot be fixed, juggled, or overhauled to make the present system work. Sin is the ghost in the machine, the pervading virus, and we must await a new creation where no one makes an original choice to institute the culture of death. The age to come is a world without end precisely because someone has made an original choice toward life, a choice that includes the forgiveness of sin and the restoration of hope.

Heaven, as we understand sooner or later, is a whole lot more than an endless summer. With evil, suffering, and death in the balance, our idea of heaven takes on an urgency born from the sadness and frustration of life as we know it. Heaven becomes the cure for what ails us, the solution to history's ongoing anguish, and the only answer to the questions that rise in our hearts.

So WHERE DOES THAT LEAVE US NOW? ARE WE CAUGHT between an entirely unsatisfying present and the perfect fulfillment of a world yet to come? The gospel, it would seem, has more to offer. Jesus announces the coming of a kingdom, the reign of God. This kingdom is not to be confused with a cosmic paradise at the end of the present age. The kingdom as Jesus announces it is "near," "at hand," and "among you," even "within you." This reality, we begin to suspect, is not the same as the idea of heaven we've grown used to. This kingdom is not something waiting for us on the far side of history. It's on the move and headed this way!

Compare this dynamic understanding of the kingdom with our traditional notion of the place with the pearly gates. Heaven, we've been told, can wait. It sits with everlasting patience for history to finish telling its story before sweeping up the mess and taking out the garbage, rescuing what is salvageable and shining it up for the showcase of eternity.

But the kingdom is not patient at all. It tries all the doors and windows of the present hour, pressing for admittance. The kingdom seeps in through the keyhole of every eager heart and makes its reality felt. If heaven's final resolution is too far off to provide relief in the hour of your need, then don't spend another minute hanging on for the end times. Embrace the reign of God now and welcome eternity into time right where you are.

THE IDEA OF "KINGDOM NOW" MAY SOUND AT FIRST LIKE one of those suspicious spiritual imports from California, but give it a little room to grow on you. Consider what Jesus has to say about the reign of God, particularly in Matthew's gospel. The mysteries of the kingdom are like a sower scattering seed on soil of varying qualities. Some of that ground is on a common footpath, trampled too hard to accept the seed before the birds snatch it away. Other parts are rocky or thorny. But some of that soil has the perfect conditions to bring the seed to life.

This is not a particularly difficult parable, but Jesus goes on to unpack it just in case his disciples have trouble figuring out that the soil represents the human heart in its various states of preparation for the Word of God. However you interpret each obstacle to grace, one thing is clear: When Jesus reveals these mysteries of the kingdom, he isn't talking about the hereafter. The ground of our hearts is being penetrated right now by the Word of God. We are not asked to store this seed for the world to come, but to bring it to bear on the life that presently engages us.

Jesus tells another parable about sowing seed in which he declares that the harvest is an image of the end of the age. But "the children of the kingdom," he points out, are the good seeds sown in the present generation. They are growing up among the weeds with which the enemy seeks to corrupt the harvest. Though the fulfillment of this scenario awaits a final reckoning, the kingdom itself is already at work in the good seed, producing its wheat under the warm sun of this world.

For more evidence of the kingdom's immediacy, consider the parable of the mustard seed. A tiny seed gives rise to a large bush capable of sheltering other lives in its branches. Such protection is certainly welcome in the world we live in but would hardly be necessary in the heavenly realm.

The kingdom is also like yeast, Jesus tells us. If you've ever opened a packet of yeast, you know that it doesn't look like more than a smattering of powder. Nothing could be less promising than yeast--and yet there's genuine life inhabiting those tiny grains. Under the right conditions a teaspoon of yeast can raise up enough bread to feed a family.

How many different ways does Jesus have to remind us to take responsibility for the word of life that comes our way? God's Word packs tremendous life in small places, but the environment has got to be right or nothing happens. Don't blame the seed or the yeast for not doing their job. The mighty potential is handed to us in every moment, but it's up to us to be properly receptive of the gift.

JESUS TELLS MANY MORE STORIES ABOUT THE KINGDOM, COMPARING it to buried treasure, a pearl of great price, and a net cast into the sea. In each story we hear of the imminent discovery of something wonderful--and yet we are also alerted to the danger that the discovery might well be overlooked. How often does buried treasure remain hidden for centuries, while many walk by the spot and don't know it? How many of us might hold a precious pearl and think it's of no more interest than a marble?

We recall the story of how Peter set out his nets all night and caught nothing, until Jesus told him to try one more time. What if he had refused? The final casting of the net led to such a large catch that it could hardly be drawn up. But Peter could just as well have gone home empty-handed that day if he had not trusted in a word from his Lord.

How sad it would be if we kept praying "Thy kingdom come" and failed to recognize its arrival. The kingdom comes every hour on schedule. All we have to do is claim it.

ALICE CAMILLE, author of Invitation to the New Testament, and Invitation to the Old Testament, both from ACTA Publications.