Every year one of my students asks me a version of this question:
“Deacon… will my dog be in heaven?”
I smile when I hear that because that question isn’t really curiosity about animals. It’s much deeper. What people are really asking is: What will heaven be like? And even more honestly: Will it be worth it?
Most of us carry some idea of heaven in our minds. Clouds. Angels. Being reunited with loved ones.
But if we’re honest, many of those images don’t get us excited the way we hope they would.
Maybe that’s because heaven isn’t meant to be imagined as simply a better version of this life. Today’s readings point us somewhere deeper — and once we begin to glimpse that deeper meaning, another question emerges:
Does my life reflect where I’m choosing to go for eternity?
Because whether we admit it or not, our entire life, in fact our whole eternity, is shaped by what — or whom — we choose.
In the first reading, Sirach, a wise man who lived in Jerusalem around 200 years before the birth of Christ, says: “I set before you life and death, blessing and curse. Choose life.”
Not “life will happen automatically.” Not “God will force life upon you.”
But Sirach says choose. We get a choice.
In the Gospel, Jesus takes that even deeper. He tells us the real battleground’s not only in our actions, but in our desires, our intentions, and our hearts.
Because God doesn’t merely want outward obedience. He wants our love. And love can’t be forced.
Love must be chosen.
And the choice to love or not has eternal consequences: heaven and hell.
Father Mike Schmitz once put it in a way I have never forgotten. He said that at the end of our lives, God doesn't send us to heaven or to hell.
He simply gives us what we have chosen..
In my life here on Earth, if I choose God, I get God. If in my life, I choose not-God, I get not-God.
St. Augustine wrote,
“God created you without you, but He will not save you without you.”
And if that's true, and it is, that changes everything.
Because suddenly heaven’s not a prize God dangles in front of us. Hell’s not a punishment God delights in.
They are the final confirmation of a direction we’ve been choosing all along in our words, actions, and thoughts here in this life on earth.
God honors our freedom that much. He will never force Himself or his love upon us.
Love forced isn’t love. A forced relationship isn’t relationship.
So God gives us what we truly desire — even if that desire is tragic.
That’s why Sirach pleads, “Choose life.” That’s why Jesus speaks so directly to the heart.
Because the stakes are real. Heaven and hell are real.
But don't you sometimes wonder what eternity will be like?
The truth is we tend to limit what heaven really is.
St. Paul tells us, “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, nor has the human heart conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him.”
In other words, heaven’s not simply a better version of this life. It’s not just our favorite things, favorite people, favorite comforts, or our dog — extended forever, although those things might be included.
Heaven is something far deeper.
Heaven is to be in the presence of, and completely surrounded by, pure, total, undeserved love.
God is love. Not just loving. Love itself.
And heaven is living inside that love with nothing blocking it, nothing distorting it, nothing weakening it — for all eternity.
p[The closest I can come to describing that in a way we might relate to now is something very simple and ordinary.
One time, I was watching one of my grandsons play. He was just a toddler and was running around, busy with toys.
And suddenly, without being asked, without needing anything, he stopped what he was doing, walked over, climbed into my lap, buried his head in my chest, and hugged me.
No reason. No request. No condition. Just love.
And in that moment, time seemed to stand still. I became aware of nothing else.
Bills didn't matter. Problems didn't matter. Worries faded into the background.
There was just love given and love received. Pure, undeserved, self-giving love.
Now multiply that beyond anything we can imagine.
Remove every trace of insecurity. Every fear of losing it. Every limit of time. Every distraction. Every ache.
That’s a glimpse — a tiny glimpse — of what heaven is.
To be caught up forever in the love of God. To be known completely and loved completely. To rest in that love without end.
That’s what God wants for us.
But if that’s heaven, then hell’s the exact opposite.
Hell’s the complete absence of love.
No warmth. No mercy. No communion. No giving. No receiving.
Only isolation. Only one’s self. Only the echo of one’s own decisions away from God forever.
And here’s the sobering truth: God doesn’t send anyone there as an act of revenge.
Hell is what happens when a person spends a lifetime saying, “God, I don’t want You. I don’t need You. Leave me alone.”
And in the end, God honors that request. He gives us what we choose.
That’s why Jesus speaks so directly in today’s Gospel. He’s not just interested in whether we technically follow rules.
He’s forming hearts capable of receiving and giving the love of heaven.
Because heaven’s not about following regulations. Heaven’s about relationship.
Every act of forgiveness, every prayer, every moment of humility, every quiet turning toward God in this life are choices toward heaven.
And every persistent refusal, every hardening of heart, every closing in on oneself are choices in the other direction.
But there's hope:
Salvation isn't about being perfect.
It’s about direction.
The good thief on the cross is an example of that.
Even a weak turning toward God is still a turning toward life.
Even a faltering prayer, “Lord, help me,” is a step toward heaven.
God doesn’t wait for us to become saints before He loves us. He loves us first — so we can become saints.
He died on the cross for our sins, rose from the dead, and opened heaven in his Ascension all so we would join him in heaven.
And so the question returns today, gently but clearly:
What do you really want?
Not what you say in passing.
Not what you assume.
But what will your daily choices reveal.
Because in the end, God will take our freedom seriously. He will give us what we have chosen.
And with all the love of a Father, He longs — more than we know — for us to choose Him.