On the shelf next to me is my passport. It has no stamps, though the information is correct. In a few weeks it will become an essential component of my belongings, allowing me to enter Italy without delay.
For the past six years since it arrived in the mail, it has been useless. No one has asked what the nine digit number is. My date and place of birth are of no consequence, and I am free to cross city lines, or state boundaries without being stopped. But for the next month, I will always keep track of where my passport is. Stern faced immigration officials will furrow their eyebrows while they assess its authenticity. Probably he or she will ask questions about my
intentions.
There are other documents whose value has faded. Exam results, and diplomas once held sway. Now they are insignificant. My resume was never impressive, though it did add some credibility when applying for jobs. Now it is meaningless. Car registration papers, bank statements, and insurance policies are crucial... until they aren't.
Perhaps one of the adjustments when we immigrate to heaven will involve letting go of things that were once of importance. Annuities, professional degrees, letters of recommendation will be meaningless.
There is a brief conversation between an angel and a newcomer to heaven
that I love. It was more succinct than any college exam. Plus it articulates a distinction that will never expire.
With the one who was in faith not separated from charity, the angel spoke as follows:
"Friend, who are you?" "I am a Reformed Christian." "What is your doctrine and the religion you have from it?" "Faith and charity." "These are two things?" "They cannot be separated." "What is faith?" "To believe what the Word teaches." "What is charity?" "To do what the Word teaches." "Have you only believed these things, or have you also done them?" "I have also done them."
The angel of heaven then looked at him, and said, "My friend, come with me, and dwell with us." Faith 43, Emanuel Swedenborg