In my thoughts on Death I wrote of how when I was in elementary school, then in middle, then high school, then college, I had this silly hope that Time, Time imagined as a kind of substance, Time the Invincible Fact, would just “sort of stretch out” and never actually arrive at whichever of life’s milestones I did not particularly care to reach, a “desire, often unconscious or only half formulated … for a particular time in life never to end.” George MacDonald wrote in Cross Purposes (a story of his I don’t remember if I have read or not, but which I know C.S. Lewis published in his collection of MacDonald quotes): “[M]any things we never could believe, have only to happen, and then there is nothing strange about them.”
I turned 30 this month. To prove it to me, on the very day, I woke up and rose up on my elbows, and in the rising seem to have crunched a nerve in my upper back between two vertebra at the level of my shoulder blades. Moderate pain throughout the day twinged if I twisted wrong, catching my breath short. My “wind” was “knocked out” from the sudden seizing of the muscles around my ribs and lungs as they tightened to protect the nerve – the same feeling I often felt as a kid when climbing and then landing hard on my chest when falling out of the low-branched apple trees on our farm. In addition to my rebel back, my knees, for a few years now, have been practicing their hobby of imitating the sound of damp gravel being stepped on, whenever they bend, be it while doing squats or simply going up stairs – wet dirt and pebbles on the surface make that unique sound when they squish against the drier gravel in the lower layers. My family have also likened the audio of my knees to creaking wooden floorboards. “Wretched man that I am! Who will save me from this body of death?” (Romans 7:24). I imagine St. Paul had more in mind than his sinful “flesh” when he wrote those words.
I have very kindly received birthday wishes from many, saying things like, “30 is a wonderful time of life! Your 30s are a great decade, so much better than your 20s! I remember when I thought 30 was old!” Kind words, and I’m grateful for all of them. They promise much, and there is substance to them, I know … but I also know they are mostly empty, like a Russian Doll without any subsequently smaller dolls stacked inside. You’ve got the outermost shell and that counts for something, but its weight is off. It “feels” too light. No one wants to be 30. No one has ever earnestly, with all one’s heart, yearned or longed or desired to become 30. No one, that is, who is not already past 30. I wonder if anyone ever really wants to age past 25, or even 21? The name of that store – you know it, ubiquitous in every mall that exists – comes to mind.
Though not yet old, I am aging. Deep into these thoughts one day, and into the accompanying regrets of everything I had wanted to do – or worse, everything I only now am coming to realize I had wanted to do – but never achieved in my 20s, I suddenly found my mind recalling this quote:
It is simply no good trying to keep any thrill: that is the very worst thing you can do. Let the thrill go—let it die away—go on through that period of death into the quieter interest and happiness that follow—and you will find you are living in a world of new thrills all the time. But if you decide to make thrills your regular diet and try to prolong them artificially, they will all get weaker and weaker, and fewer and fewer, and you will be a bored, disillusioned old man for the rest of your life. It is because so few people understand this that you find many middle-aged men and women maundering about their lost youth, at the very age when new horizons ought to be appearing and new doors opening all round them. It is much better fun to learn to swim than to go on endlessly (and hopelessly) trying to get back the feeling you had when you first went paddling as a small boy.
— C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity
Well and well. This (mostly) cured me of my regrets (there is always some lingering residue, I find, even when regret is shown to be the waste of time that it is). There are, or will be – I have faith, may God make it so – as many of my birthday well-wishers said in different words – “new horizons … appearing and new doors opening” at this age, and at every age. Amen.
Still, it is not the mere number of our age – what’s in a number? – but rather the lost youth that vexes. And it is not even exactly what Lewis means by “lost youth” here in his critique of middle-aged “maundering” – meaning the thrills of life when you are young, the opportunities that have gone by. It is this: I wouldn’t care if I was 300, let alone 30, if only I could retain the health and strength and speed and vitality that I have known in my teens and 20s and, thankfully, largely still know now at 30. If I could have bodily youth, strength, and health forever, then would I not forever have opportunity for striding over “new horizons”? I could take life at my leisure, and let even decades go by without doing anything, if I wanted, and yet retain the ability to go on through the “new doors” – if only my body was not subject to the erosion of Time.
Except, were it so, I would even still be a sinner.
Then the LORD God said, “Behold, the man has become like one of Us, to know good and evil. And now, lest he put out his hand and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live forever” — therefore the LORD God sent him out of the garden of Eden to till the ground from which he was taken. So He drove out the man; and He placed cherubim at the east of the garden of Eden, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to guard the way to the tree of life.
— Genesis 3:22-24
I think it is true – at least it was for me – that when we first read these verses, we grow somewhat indignant. At the least, we are confused: Why would God do that? I think I had assumed infinite life would have made Adam and Eve, and all the rest of mankind, less sinful. Wouldn’t that have solved the problem? I had assumed that the fruit of life would have restored the goodness we knew prior to the first sin, as if the fruit of the tree of life was the antidote to the fruit of the tree of good and evil. But what right have we to assume that?
I hadn’t read those verses closely enough: Because mankind had learned not only the good but also evil, and that by committing evil — therefore God cut off our access to infinite life and bodily youth. Infinite life as fallen beings who knew both good and evil, that is, as sinners, would not have been good for us. Think of what we in fact, in reality, not hypothetically, do with our youth, strength, health, vitality: Do we not already waste them, short-lived as they are? Do we not squander them on drunkenness, and drugs, and all manner of immorality that only leads to disease and depression and hatred of others? It need not even be such “spectacular” or “big” sins, either. It could be laziness, apathy, satisfaction with small things, little finite pleasures, a desire, strange as it sounds, for a life of meaninglessness, of no responsibility, of inconsequential centuries drifting from bodily pleasure to pleasure – yes, until even these little things we seem able to enjoy in endless quantity lost their draw, and we found ourselves condemned to continue on – I will not say “live” – forever with nothing to look forward to, no fantastic ecstasies nor the little homely comforts. In fact, such a world and state of being would have been the beginning of Hell, not of Redemptive History – living Hell, because sin gives birth to death, and Hell is eternal death.
And yet, even so, even though I can see all this to be true, and affirm it with all parts of my mind I am able to bend to the task of affirmation – even so, I find in my soul some rotten thing that would actually prefer this state of infinite-yet-sinful youth, even though in time, eventually, at some point, I know, but perhaps do not believe, all such pleasure will have become dull and boring to me. I have all the evidence I need that this is what part of me – I do not know, but shudder to think of, how big a part – actually wants this. I know full well that I could get many years, decades, centuries, maybe even many millennia, of contented pleasure out of sleep, food, sex, drink, video games, movies, travel, reading, parties – finite thrills, without God, if only I never aged, never felt pain, and never had to reckon with death or the end of Time or the final judgment of God. “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?”
So thank God He limited our lives and let the curse of Time and aging fall on us, and on all the world!
For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it in hope; because the creation itself also will be delivered from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation groans and labors with birth pangs together until now. Not only that, but we also who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our bodies.
— Romans 8:19-23
Subjected in hope.
If we never aged – never saw those wrinkles at the eyes and mouth, never heard our knees crackle or woke up with muscle aches for seemingly no reason, never did a double-take in the mirror at the glimpse of a gray hair – we would never have to reckon with the inevitable meeting with God toward which we all are headed. If we never felt the boredom and pain of age, we might never turn to God. And that says nothing about the Physician, but everything about us, His patients – the condition of our souls is so wretched that the medicine required to get us to surrender our selves to God is pain, and age, and decay, and futility. If He could do it another way, He would – and sometimes does. Sometimes a revelation in our souls of God’s goodness and beauty and the infinite pleasures “at His right hand” (Psalms 16:11) work in us a cure. But His strongest medicine is pain.
The human spirit will not even begin to try to surrender self-will as long as all seems to be well with it. Now error and sin both have this property, that the deeper they are the less their victim suspects their existence; they are masked evil. Pain is unmasked, unmistakable evil; every man knows that something is wrong when he is being hurt. … And pain is not only immediately recognisable evil, but evil impossible to ignore. We can rest contentedly in our sins and in our stupidities; and anyone who has watched gluttons shovelling down the most exquisite foods as if they did not know what they were eating, will admit that we can ignore even pleasure. But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pain: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.
— C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain
God gives purpose to the pains of our life, however much we might wish them away. That is good news!
But! In a moment of what I can only think of as J.R.R. Tolkien’s term, coined eucatastrophe, “the sudden happy turn in a story which pierces you with a joy that brings tears,” (The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien), the Bible also goes beyond even this unexpected good, and reveals that our pains and sufferings are doing more for us than just serving as God’s megaphone:
The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs — heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with Him in order that we may also be glorified with Him. For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us.
— Romans 8:16-18
For all things are yours: whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas, or the world, or life, or death, or things present or things to come — all are yours. And you are Christ’s, and Christ is God’s.
— I Corinthians 3:21-23
For all things are for your sakes, that grace, having spread through the many, may cause thanksgiving to abound to the glory of God. Therefore we do not lose heart. Even though our outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day. For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory…
— II Corinthians 4:15-17
Paul is not talking only of religious persecution and spiritual or emotional suffering, the loss of loved ones, the plans that never came together, the good desires unfulfilled – though these surely are a more noble kind of suffering, “provided we suffer with Him” – but he also states unequivocally: “even we ourselves groan within ourselves, eagerly waiting for the adoption, the redemption of our bodies” (Rom. 8:23). It is not wrong to want to be healed, then, or to want to have new bodies not subject to the futility and suffering of this present creation. This is beyond good! How can my back pain be of such consequence? What will the creaking ache of my knees become for me in my “exceeding and eternal weight of glory”? What could it possibly mean that “all things” are mine, even the world, life, and death? How shall I own death, and how shall it work for me?
He ended; and thus Adam last repli’d:
“How soon hath thy prediction, Seer blest,
Measur’d this transient World, the Race of time,
Till time stand fixt: beyond all is abyss,
Eternity, whose end no eye can reach.
Greatly instructed I shall hence depart,
Greatly in peace of thought, and have my fill
Of knowledge, what this vessel can contain;
Beyond which was my folly to aspire.
Henceforth I learn, that to obey is best,
And love with fear the only God, to walk
As in his presence, ever to observe
His providence, and on him sole depend,
Merciful over all his works, with good
Still overcoming evil, and by small
Accomplishing great things, by things deem’d weak
Subverting worldly strong, and worldly wise
By simply meek; that suffering for Truth’s sake
Is fortitude to highest victory,
And to the faithful Death the Gate of Life;
Taught this by his example whom I now
Acknowledge my Redeemer ever blest.”— Paradise Lost, Book XII.552-573
For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.
— Philippians 1:21
“O Death, where is your victory?
O Death, where is your sting?”— I Corinthians 15:55
“Suffering for Truth’s sake …”
For this is a gracious thing, when, mindful of God, one endures sorrows while suffering unjustly. For what credit is it if, when you sin and are beaten for it, you endure? But if when you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God. For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in His steps.
— I Peter 2:19-21
Provided we suffer with Him …
Suddenly I am stopped cold. I remember several paragraphs up my confession that there is a part of me that would rather have eternal youth and health without God. But the requirement is I must suffer with Him.
Am I? How can I know?
John Piper’s sermon “A Spectacular and Scary Promise” has the answer: We can know we are suffering with Christ and have the Holy Spirit in us if we are living according to the Spirit and by the Spirit are actively, sincerely, putting to death our sins.
For if you live according to the flesh you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, these are children of God.
— Romans 8:13-14
This is not “salvation by works,” but works coming out of our salvation – the Spirit is already in us, therefore we are putting to death the deeds of the body. So, if I find in myself a sincere desire to kill my sin, and I am having success – not perfect success, because sanctification is not complete until death, “Death the Gate of Life” – then I can know, for certain, that that desire is in me because the Spirit is already leading me to it! Amen.
Closer, but this is still not quite the full answer. I must ask, Why do I want to “put to death the deeds” of my body? Is it only practical? Do I merely no longer want to suffer pain, regret, and shame because of my sins? If this is all I am after, then I am not fulfilling the greatest commandment:
“Teacher, what is the great commandment in the law?”
Jesus said to him, “‘You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment.”— Matthew 22:36-38
I see that I must love God – but I don’t love God anywhere near like I ought to. Not with all my heart, and all my soul, and all my mind, and all my strength. I know I love a lot of other things and don’t often care if God is involved or not. I have found in me the desire that I might go on with my small pleasures and sins indefinitely … And yet at times, I have been pierced with the desire to see God, and really to know Him. How do I keep tottering back and forth? How can I be so divided? Would I really give up all my sins in order to gain eternal life with Christ? What if I don’t really love God, but only think I do? “Wretched man that I am? Who will save me from this body of death?”
And now I come to the greatest passage of writing I have found in recent memory, a quote that has given me life and joy since the moment I first read it:
Augustine uses a little thought-experiment … in his sermon “On the Pure Love of God”. He says: Imagine God appeared to you and said he would make a deal with you, that he would give you everything you wished, everything your heart desired, except one. You could have anything you imagine, nothing would be impossible for you, and nothing would be sinful or forbidden. “But,” God concluded, “you shall never see my face.” Why, Augustine asks, did a terrible chill creep over your heart at those last words unless there is in your heart the love of God, the desire for God? In fact, if you wouldn’t accept that deal, you really love God above all things, for look what you just did: you gave up the whole world, and more, for God.
— Peter Kreeft, Heaven: The Heart’s Deepest Longing
In that confession paragraph above, I also said that I knew I eventually would get bored of eternal-yet-sinful youth. Why? Because I knew I would not, in the end, be satisfied with this “deal.” Answering Augustine’s thought experiment truthfully, I say No. Never. Never. Only seeing God’s face is eternally satisfying.
“And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom You have sent.”
— John 17:3
Beloved, now we are children of God; and it has not yet been revealed what we shall be, but we know that when He is revealed, we shall be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is. And everyone who has this hope in Him purifies himself, just as He is pure.
— I John 3:2-3
Part of the purifying process is aging, growing old, suffering pains, feeling regrets, and looking through all these things forward into that “eternal weight of glory” awaiting us in Christ. Not one year of life, or twinge of the pains of age, is meaningless. It is only the first step into eternity with God, made righteous, with no more sin, shame, or pain, or sorrow, or regret any more, with Him for Whom we really do “give up the whole world, and more,” that we may be with Him face to face.
Behold I make all things new. Behold I do what cannot be done. I restore the years that the locusts and worms have eaten. I restore the years which you have drooped away upon your crutches and in your wheelchair. I restore the symphonies and operas which your deaf ears have never heard and the snowy massif your blind eyes have never seen and the freedom lost to you through plunder and the identity lost to you because of calumny and the failure of justice. And I restore the good which your own foolish mistakes have cheated you of. And I bring to you the love of which all other loves speak, the love which is joy and beauty, and which you have sought in a thousand streets, and for which you have wept and clawed your pillow.
— Thomas Howard, Christ the Tiger, (quoted from Peter Kreeft, Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Heaven)
But as it is written:
“Eye has not seen, nor ear heard,
Nor have entered into the heart of man
The things which God has prepared for those who love Him.”— I Corinthians 2:9
And I heard a loud voice from heaven saying, “Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people. God Himself will be with them and be their God. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.”
Then He who sat on the throne said, “Behold, I make all things new.” And He said to me, “Write, for these words are true and faithful.”— Revelation 21:3-5