Martin blinked a few times, trying to clear his eyes. He felt a little confused, out of sorts. A moment before, he had felt cold and was struggling for breath. Now all was well, yet he wasn’t where he was before. This was not his bedroom in his home at Eisleben.

“This must be heaven,” Martin thought to himself, although he had to admit it didn’t quite look like he’d always imagined heaven to be. Yet, it felt right, everything felt right.

Off in the distance, he could see a solitary figure walking towards him. Although the man bore a face unfamiliar to him, Martin had no doubts who it was and he smiled.

“Greetings and welcome, Martin Luther.” Said Jesus. “You’re home.”

Martin looked about again, “I made it.” He admitted with a hint of surprise. “I was never quite sure.”

“No one is.” Said Jesus kindly.

“Was I right?” asked Martin, his voice betraying a hint of urgency.

“About some things.” Admitted Jesus. “But that’s not what brought you here.”

“No, I suppose not.” Said Martin. “That would be your doing.” To which, Jesus simply gave a slight nod.

Luther frowned for a moment. “I thought…This is not quite what I expected. When a man reaches the end of his mortal life, he wants to know if anything that he did made a difference. I thought I would know, now that I’m here.”

Jesus smiled. “Patience, my friend. You’re brand new to this eternity thing. The answers to your questions will soon be revealed. It’s why I’m here.”

“Surely, Lord, you have more pressing matters than to help this old German with his discouragement.”

To that, Jesus gave a hearty laugh. “You really are new to eternity. I have all the time in the world. Come, let me show you something.”

With a wave of his hand, an image formed in front of the two of them. It was of a small church nestled on a mountaintop somewhere in the world. “Do you remember, Martin, what happened in the world when you but a small boy of 9?”

Martin did some quick calculations in his head. “That would be the year 1492, correct? There was that Italian guy, or was he Spanish, who discovered a new continent far to the west.”

“Columbus, yes.” Said Jesus. “Uncovered a portion of my creation that was as yet unknown to you and your people. The world got a whole lot bigger very suddenly.”

Martin nodded. “Yes, it did.”

“My church traveled with those explorers. And while Columbus and many of the other explorers were Catholic, it was not long before some of your ideas also came to these new lands.

“This church that you are seeing,” With another wave, the image of the building dissolved to reveal the faces of the people within. “lies within that new world. Here, my Gospel is proclaimed. Here, the hungry are fed. Here, there is fellowship among the believers. Here, the stranger is welcomed.

“These are your spiritual descendants, Martin, living, worshipping, praying in a land you’ve never seen and barely know anything about.”

“From the West, we go East as far as the sun is from the moon.” Another wave of Jesus’ hand and the image changed again, to a vast city of steel and glass.

“What wonders are these?”

“What you consider to be your future, Martin. The place I show you is 500 years from the time of your life. Science, technology, knowledge, continue to advance. Just as those explorers were unlocking the secrets of the world I created, so too were scientists unlocking the secrets of how it worked. Physics, chemistry, all these came to be known to humankind. What you see is centuries of development upon those very ideas.” There was a hint of pride in Jesus’ voice as he spoke.

“How can man do such things?”

“How is not important. But look in the midst of this steel jungle. What do you see?”

“I see the church.”

“Indeed. Even here, in the midst of the wonders of the humanity’s advancement, my church remains. But look within. Look at their faces. Hear their voices.” Another hand wave and image shimmered to reveal the faces of hundreds of young Chinese at worship.

“They speak a language I know not. But there is something familiar about all this.”

“There should be.” Said Jesus. “They are Lutherans. Lutherans in the land of China. The city of Hong Kong, to be specific. Here again, in the midst of land you do not know, my Gospel is being proclaimed. The hungry are being fed. There is fellowship among the believers. The stranger is welcomed. Hope for my people thrives.”

Martin nodded, his mind swirling with amazement and awe.

“One more image.” Said Jesus and with another wave, the image changed. Here now, it was of a single man, his dark hands rattling away at drum. “It is one thing,” said Jesus,” to see buildings and institutions and the success of the church throughout the world is to be celebrated. But it is a far different thing to see how it matters to a single life.

“The man before you lives in Africa. He is a drummer, a leader of his tribe. It was the calling I gave to him and he embraced it with enthusiasm. But in a time of war, fighters came into his village. They killed his wife. They killed his son. They smashed his drums and for 16 long years, this man made no music. His grief was too great.

“But as it happened, he came to the church. He lived with them, worked with them. One day, he happened upon a classroom where the people of my church were teaching students how to drum. He watched for a time and felt the music swell with him. Soon, he could bear it no longer. He stood up, went to the front of the classroom, took up a drum, and began to teach. His grief left him and hope returned. The church and the school where this healing took place were Lutheran.”

Jesus paused to let Martin take it all in. “I could show you,” he continued after a moment, “thousands more such images. Stories of lives that were changed because you heard my voice, accepted the calling I set before you, and spoke the truth, proclaimed my Gospel, and granted hope to untold numbers of my people who you have never seen and never met.

“I can tell such stories about every Christian who passes this way. Most of them are not nearly so famous to history as you are, Martin, but that does not matter. Every one of them, be they Protestant, Catholic, Orthodox, or whatever, planted seeds and many of them never knew what difference their words and their actions made. But I know. I see all the world and I see my church, hidden in places often unexpected, telling the story of how much I love the world. Of how I lived on it, died for it, and then rose again on the third day.

“Of all the stories in all the world, that is the one that matters most. You say you want to know if your life made a difference, Martin. You told that story, you told my story, in words and in deeds. And anyone who does that makes a difference.”

Amen.