I’ve always been fascinated with time, and more specifically, the concept of time travel. That we live our lives, free to move within the first three dimensions of space, but are held captive in the fourth dimension of time, seems so frustrating. God is proof that movement is possible in the fourth dimension, for how else could He reveal to the prophets the secrets of the future. How could He write the Book of Life prior to most if not all of those listed having been born? So often we acknowledge that He is everywhere, but forget that He is every time as well. We are promised eternal life, but we are limited by the constraints of this world to imagine what that looks like. Eternal life heretofore has meant to me that we won’t die. Even that miracle, though, had limited appeal to me if it meant being captive in time and trudging onward from one moment to the next without end. They say that a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, but mercifully it ends with a single step as well. A Far Side mug I once had featured an angel sitting on a cloud with a harp, commenting to himself that he wished he had brought a magazine. Eternity can be a long time without a purpose – like living the children’s song Michael Finnegan, constantly having to begin again.
I’m coming to understand, though, that eternal life does not mean life without end, experiencing it moment after moment for eternity. No, I believe it means a life not only without end, but without imprisonment in the moment. I’ve often imagined the time tracks of our lives as a river, each of us floating at a constant rate. When we approach milestones in our lives, the ultra-sensitive among us can sometimes sense their impending approach by the small circular ripples they create with their splash. Historic moments that shock or traumatize an entire culture or nation create greater splashes with stronger ripples circling out from their epicenter. Eternal life means no longer bobbing down the river, but being able to stand on the riverbank; being able to experience the river without getting wet. Even as memory fades of some events and people from my past, I am confident that I will someday be able to see them all clearly once again without embarrassment or shame. Solomon tells us that to every thing there is a season1 and seeks to explain the nature of time when he writes “that which hath been is now; and that which is to be hath already been”2.
Life holds so much promise – God’s promise of eternal life is so much greater. Not only life, but purpose. More than we can imagine, until we come into that promise and then we fully understand.
1 Ecclesiastes 3:1 To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
2 Ecclesiastes 3:15 That which hath been is now; and that which is to be hath already been; and God requireth that which is past.
In a dry and thirsty land 