My father died recently. Even though he was 92, lived a long and fruitful life, and was declining in health (and thus his death in many ways was a relief), Dad’s death still hit me fairly hard. Here is a person I’ve known and loved literally my whole life, whom I will never see again this side of heaven. No more deep theological discussions, no more listening to his fascinating reports on how a humming bird’s wings work or some new insight into the human brain, no more just sitting quietly together by the fire. As much as you try to prepare for a parent’s passing, you never really can be quite ready.
Dad’s passing has got me thinking quite a bit this past week about some deeper issues: The purpose of our lives, the reality of death, the nature of heaven, the shortness of life, and so on. I’m struck by how little, it seems, most of us think about these things. We rush from activity to activity, from deadline to deadline, and in our goal-setting we so often fixate on the more immediate and temporal.
I wonder how differently we would live out each day if we knew that we were going to die, say, within the next three years? Or if we spent ten minutes each day in concentrated reflection on heaven (what a quick blip on the screen a 70 or 80 year life is in comparison to eternity!)? Or if we occasionally took a “big picture” inventory of our whole lives, rather than just thinking about the next few months?
There is a very strong current at work in today’s pop culture that pulls us away from regular meditation on heaven. If we don’t intentionally work against it, we’ll find ourselves—usually unconsciously—concerned more with being caught up more with the latest fashions, movies and technology, the status of our favorite sports team, and lots of near-future goals, than with heaven and hell. We’re conditioned to treat earth as our permanent home. C.S. Lewis is so insightful here:
You and I have need of the strongest spell that can be found to wake us from the evil enchantment of worldliness which has been laid upon us for nearly a hundred years. Almost our whole education has been directed to silencing this shy, persistent, inner voice; almost all our modern philosophies have been devised to convince us that the good of man is to be found on this earth.
Of course, the Lord wants us to live fully engaged in the present, not idly trying to live in the future. And there’s nothing wrong with enjoying God’s good gifts that are found in this physical, time-oriented world. But there’s a difference between being obsessed with the near-future versus living in light of heaven. Again, Lewis to the rescue. The devil, Lewis tells us, would like us to devote our primary energy either to the past or to the immediate future, whereas God would have us focus on the present (meaning: today) and the eternal future.
I’m not sure, but I can guess what a couple practical ramifications might be in our lives were we to live more regularly and self-consciously with eternity in view, where heaven, not earth, was our primary and most permanent home.
First, I think we would take more risks in life. So much of our energy (in a low-grade sort of way) goes into self-protection and personal security. The subliminal goal is to avoid suffering at any cost, and just constantly “play it safe” in life. And yet the reality is that our lives come and go so very quickly. In the grand scheme of things, what’s the big difference between living for 50 years versus 80 years? Why not make that extra effort of personal sacrifice that truly serves someone else rather than always “being careful” with preserving our lives? I long to live life with a little bit more wildness, walking more by faith, believing that God will take care of me as I take risks of obedience. For what’s the very worst thing that can happen to us if we choose to live more faith-filled, risky lives? Death? Well…so?!
And then, second, I think we would put more energy into big picture, long-term goals rather than immediate ones. We’d be more content with living our lives in secret rather than in a showy, flashy kind of way, where the accolades from others are more immediate, yet superficial. I think we’d give more attention to our own personal character, even though this isn’t seen right away in a sparkly way by others. As I’ve studied Augustine, I’ve been struck by how much emphasis he puts on the future rewards that God offers us in Scripture (and these really are mentioned fairly often in the Bible), as a motivating stimulus for our daily obedience. One reason God does this is to help channel our energy and motivations more toward the eternal-future rather than toward the superficial-immediate. One Day all the books will be opened and we’ll see what our lives truly consisted of—how much of our whole characters were aimed towards immediate praise of others or temporary glories versus that cosmic, “Well done!” from our Father who sees in secret.