If Christ Is Not Heaven to You Now

“If Christ be not heaven to you now,

He shall not be hereafter.”

— John Owen

There is a quiet but piercing weight to this statement. John Owen is not speaking about salvation by works, nor is he denying grace. He is exposing a truth many would rather avoid: our relationship with Christ is not merely about destination, but affection.

Heaven is not simply a place we go when we die. Heaven is the fullness of God’s presence. And if the presence of Christ does not draw us now—if we find Him burdensome, distant, or merely theoretical—then we must honestly ask what it is we think we are longing for.

This is not condemnation. It is an invitation.

Jesus Himself voiced this same ache when He stood over Jerusalem:

“O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing.

Look, your house is left to you desolate.

For I tell you, you will not see Me again until you say,

‘Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.’”

(Matthew 23:37–39)

This passage is not the cry of an angry God, but of a grieving Savior.

Jesus is lamenting a people who knew Scripture, practiced religion, and defended tradition—yet resisted intimacy. They wanted the benefits of God without surrendering to His heart. They honored God with their lips, but their affections were guarded, distracted, and divided.

And so Jesus says something devastating: “You were not willing.”

Not unable.

Not uninformed.

Unwilling.

That is where Owen’s words land with such force. If Christ is not our delight now—if He is not our refuge, our desire, our joy—then the issue is not heaven later. The issue is our hearts today.

I have found this to be deeply personal. When I get weighed down with worries—when my mind fixates on what could go wrong or what I cannot control—peace does not come from telling myself that someday relief will arrive. Peace comes when I fix my eyes on Him now. When Christ becomes my everything in the moment, rather than just a distant hope for future relief, His perspective begins to settle my soul. In that very moment, His presence allows peace to flow—not because circumstances have changed, but because He has taken His rightful place.

We often imagine heaven as relief from pain, freedom from sorrow, or escape from suffering. And while those things are true, they are not the center. Christ is the center. Heaven without Jesus would not be heaven at all.

So when Owen says, “If Christ be not heaven to you now, He shall not be hereafter,” he is not threatening the believer—he is awakening the sleeper.

Jesus stood ready to gather Jerusalem. Arms open. Wings spread. But love does not force itself. Christ still gathers, but He gathers the willing.

This forces us to ask:

• Do we want Jesus, or do we want control?

• Do we desire His presence, or just His provision?

• Do we long for His nearness, or merely His approval?

There is still hope in Jesus’ words. He ends with a future promise:

“You will see Me again…”

The door is not closed. The invitation remains. But it requires a confession:

“Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord.”

That is the cry of surrender.

That is the posture of worship.

That is the heart that finds heaven in Christ—now.

And when Christ becomes our heaven now, eternity is no longer a distant reward. It becomes the continuation of a relationship already begun.