This is my version of a familiar story about choosing between heaven and hell.

Luke 14:7-11

Joe Smith died and went to heaven. St. Peter met him at the gate. At first, Joe thought that was a good sign, but then he realized that St. Peter was looking at a file folder and shaking his head! And the file folder had Joe’s name on it!

For what seemed like an eternity, Joe stood there, waiting in silence, while St. Peter thumbed through the folder and continued to shake his head. Finally St. Peter spoke.

“Well, you’re here. You did make it this far. That’s a good sign. … BUT there are some problems here. This is a tough case. It’s hard to tell. It really could go either way. … So tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to let you make the choice.”

For a split second, Joe thought to himself, “Well, that’s a no-brainer! Why wouldn’t I choose to get into heaven?”

“So here’s the deal,” St. Peter explained. “Your record is not so good. The simple fact is, if I let you into heaven, I can’t let you in as a person. But I can let you in as a dog.”

“A dog?” The words came out of Joe’s mouth without thinking. But once they did, he added, “I didn’t think animals were allowed in heaven.”

“Well, they are,” responded St. Peter, in a bit of a huff. Joe worried that he had offended the good saint and ruined his chances altogether! But curiosity overcame his fear, and he asked, “What kind of dog?”

“A little crossbreed, according to your records. Part beagle and part Chihuahua.”

Joe grimaced. In his opinion, there was nothing worse than a yappy little Chihuahua. And throwing in a beagle’s baying wouldn’t make it any better! Do I want to be a dog? Even in heaven?

Before he died, he was a professor, well known and well respected. A few times in church, the minister had chosen him to preach the sermon on Lay Sunday.

“So, as I was saying,” St. Peter continued, “I can let you in as a dog. You obviously won’t get to sit at the feast table, but you can lick up the crumbs that fall under it.”

“That’s one choice. The other is somewhat different. Interestingly enough, I do have some pull with the devil. It seems he has a vacancy for a prime minister, a second in command. He needs someone to be in charge while he is going about on the face of the earth. And you have some excellent qualifications for such a job.”

“Prime minister of Hell?” Joe pondered. “Second in command? In charge while the devil is gone?”

Now obviously St. Peter knew what Joe was thinking, even though he was not saying the words aloud. But Joe didn’t think about that. He was thinking that he could probably do a lot of good things as the one in charge of Hell while the devil was gone. He could make life easier for a lot of people. He could wipe out some of the bad things that happen. He would, of course, have to be careful not to offend the devil, but … still, there was some merit in considering the offer.

St. Peter waited patiently. “No hurry in making your decision,” he said. “After all, you have all of eternity ahead of you.”

“So how would this work?” Joe finally asked.

“Well, obviously, I don’t have all the details, because that place is out of my territory. But Satan has sent us what he considers to be the necessary qualifications, and you do fit quite well.”

Joe jumped as though he had been struck by a surprise blow. “What am I thinking?!?” he almost yelled. “What am I thinking? All my life I have had just one goal, to live so as to be with God in heaven! To be with my loved ones in heaven! And if the only way to do that is to become a dog”–he scrunched his eyes as he considered it–“even a yappy little Chihuahua-beagle, …”

He paused as he considered what it would feel like to be such a little dog underfoot at the feast table. He wondered what kind of crumbs there would be. He hoped it wasn’t all vegetables!

“Even a yappy little Chihuahua-beagle. OK, St. Peter. Zap me and let me in.”

The pearly gate swung open and Joe looked around. All he saw was beautiful people. No other dogs in sight! Not even St. Bernards or Labrador Retrievers. No yappy little dogs, either. He would be the only little dog in heaven. And everyone would know that he had just barely made it in.

People might pet him. How would he feel about that? He supposed that those who did not like dogs might kick at him. But surely not. People in heaven shouldn’t kick a dog.

He looked around for a table. Not that he could sit in a chair, but what crumbs might fall?

Ah, there’s a table. The tablecloth goes clear to the floor. That might be a good thing, because nobody would see me scarfing up the crumbs. As a person, he had been very neat.

Probably the reason he hadn’t seen any dogs yet was that they were all under the tables inside the tablecloths.

 Starting for the table, he knew he was not hungry. He just wanted to look for other dogs.

He took two steps and stopped, slapping his forehead. He was in heaven! Dog or person, he had accomplished his life’s goal. Without thinking what it would sound like, he shouted, “Hallelujah!” And as he opened his mouth, he realized that it would come out like a cross between a beagle baying and a Chihuahua yapping.

Instead, he heard a clear, plain “Hallelujah!” That was not a dog sound! He looked down at himself. He was not a dog! He looked like one of those beautiful people!

“But,” he said aloud, “I thought I was supposed to be a dog!”

And a familiar beautiful person beside him responded, “That’s the way we all get in, my son. Welcome to heaven, Joe.”

Questions:

General Questions

1) How does this story follow its Scripture?

2) How does this story expand its Scripture for you?

3) What is the message of this story?

4) How does the message apply to us today?

Specific Questions

5) What are the similarities between Luke 14:7-11 and this story?

6) What human tendency does St. Peter test with the choice he offered Joe?

7) If you had to become a dog (or a cat) to get into heaven, would it be worth it?

8) What does the familiar beautiful person mean about getting in?