On Eternity

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also He has put eternity in their hearts…” Ecclesiastes 3:1

When I was a little girl, eternity seemed so close. I could picture it, if I closed my eyes and focused very hard, an unending line stretching out before me with golden streets, Jesus and joy as companions along the way, and gates of pearl at the end. Only there was no end. The line went on and on, to the end of the world and all time, and over the edge and around and forever. Somehow, my child’s mind was able to SEE it, an unwavering line that never turned, and it made my little heart so full of joy.

As I grew older, the moments when I could grasp that image grew fewer and farther apart. I had to struggle harder to find it, to tug the curtain aside for a taste into the beyond. I can’t remember the last time I glimpsed it. It’s probably been over a decade. I’ve tried endlessly, remembering that I was once able to picture it, to no avail. I often wondered why. What happened to me? Is a child really that much closer to the things of heaven?

I recently concluded that the problem is noise. Our lives are filled with the ceaseless clanging of THINGS THAT MUST BE DONE, our days heavily framed by little grids of what to do and when. We have become so bound in time that there is no room for eternity, for eternity has no kinship with time. Yes, structuring our days is necessary to live a fruitful life. We are called to do all things “decently and in order,” after all. But when we cannot see beyond the world’s cacophony of clatter, we lose touch with eternity, the true reality, the forever that is the “real thing”.

Peel away the grimy layers of noise. Bare your heart to the silence of the presence of God. Be still and know Him, and set all else aside. “Touch grass,” as they say. Put down your phone. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll taste the weight of eternity’s glory on your tongue. He is good, and His goodness will never end. He is forever, and every day with Him is “better than the one before”.

Goodbye for now, friends. I’ll be outside pulling weeds and talking to God.