April 29 2023

DAY WITHOUT END.

Introduction. 

You most likely will not believe it, but, have a look at ARCTIC NEWS anyway. It offers the strong possibility that our global humanity, all living entities, actually, could vanish from the earth in 2026, that’s less than three years from now. 

Think about that: the scientists at Arctic News know the score there, know how our world’s weather depends on the North Pole region, its vanishing ice, and especially its buried methane, 87 times more lethal than our very own CO2. 

I suspect, however, that you will shrug it off as unimportant. After all, there are other matters to talk about, such as in Canada, hockey, in the US, baseball, and in ROW, the Rest of the world, soccer, of course.

But is anything more important than universal extinction? And Life Eternal? If, as I believe, our current life is just a trial run, shouldn’t we prepare for ‘real life’? Or has the present phase no purpose at all? Life ends, and that’s it? 

No. An emphatic ‘no’. I sincerely believe that it is the task of the church, and, especially our very own duty to prepare for ‘the real life to come’, which I, falteringly and, yes, totally inadequately, have tried to imagine. 

So, what is real life? For that, go back to my book. Oh, yes, look at the first chapter, to assure continuity.

DAY WITHOUT END

CHAPTER TWO

Now with the apple eaten, my body invigorated, my mind pristine, I sit up and it seems to me that my body movement has a double effect, because the fog around me and also within me has gone. Light is shooting out from everywhere, illuminating my surroundings. Within me it generates a strange, new power which seeps through me and makes my body sparkle and glow from top to toe. How wonderful.

My mind starts to race, catching up on lost time. My thoughts go in overdrive, and I close my eyes for just a minute to slow down. My goodness. First confusion, then too much speeding. What’s the matter with me? I tell myself to find a proper balance and take it easy, but that is easier said than done. My entire system is still too much possessed by my former self, but it does not worry me. I actually welcome it, because I know that all things will work out.

And they do. Of course. I now sense that the process is complete, that both body and spirit are in balance. I feel it in the tip of my fingers and in the hairs on my head. I feel it in the nails on my toes, in the crevices of my brain. What a fantastic feeling. I stretch my arms and straighten my legs so that, fully extended, I lie on the warm soil. One last yawn, and I find myself laughing, still oblivious to the presence of that mysterious man. In a flash my thoughts go back to the first day when I was conscripted into the army, trying to adjust to an atmosphere where every minute was regulated, a world of uniformity, of unconditional obedience. What a contrast! Instead of regimentation then, freedom now; instead of learning the vice of destroying then, building and beautifying here.

The association of ‘beauty’ reminds me of Jesus’ words about the flowers of the field, making the meadows more beautiful than Solomon in all his glory. What about me? A garland of flowers on my head and some figs leaves, perhaps? No, not that, but yet, nakedness is somewhat monotonous, even though my skin is a marvel to look at.

I sit up. I see the flowers and they see me. I know they do. I feel an urge to talk to the flowers and tell them about myself. What has gotten into me, I wonder. I never in my life have talked to flowers before. I glance at Cornelius, whom, I think, knows exactly what is going on. Never mind, here things are different. I tell the flowers that I would like to look more festive, and they understand. Unbelievable. Stretching and bending and turning they seem to say, “Pick me, pick me, I am beautiful, my colors suit you. God will love me on you, we are here today and gone tomorrow, so, why not use me?”

They, too, are full of joy, liberated from the dirty air that made them sick and caused many to disappear. Touched by their spontaneous generosity, I carefully and selectively accept their self-sacrifice, gathering flowers and grasses and weaving a skirt and a necklace, Hawaiian fashion.

Confident in my new aromatic dress, I stand up, ready to show myself. The effort is energy-less. I take a step and feel like I’m floating in the air. Wow! I marvel at my fluid movement and love the elasticity of my limbs, so lithe, so flowing, my muscles are so resilient, my joints like well-oiled links. My entire body operates like a perfectly adjusted instrument, tuned to a tautness I never before experienced even at my most physically fit. I dance and leap and jump and run and zigzag just to try out my new body. What an instrument! Unequalled quality! Superb mastery! The soil feels spongy, cushioning my steps, as if the earth gives each step a tiny boost.

Now I am complete, come into my own. I start to sing, beginning a scale as low as I can manage and rising easily two, even three octaves. My voice is pure and beautiful, or so it sounds to me. But, then, perhaps, in my exalted state, am I prone to exaggerate? So what?

I suddenly stop singing, sensing that my voice has awakened the universe. As if shaken out of a deep sleep, I now hear the birds in the trees, the bees in the fields, the wind in the branches, the hum of the insects all tuned in a perfect harmony, singing to our God, Creator and Father.

I have always tried to look after my body because the Scriptures called it the temple of the Holy spirit.

Funny to think that the bible no longer has any significance here. Gone are the written testimonies of the saints of old. Soon I will be able to talk to them and hear from Adam and Abel and Abraham and Zachariah the full story of their lives.

What a change, really. Just as my body is like a feather in the air, like a bird in the sky, totally unfettered, totally at ease, so my mind is totally pure, totally de-tensed, un-fogged, un-burdened, un-spoiled. Eager are my eyes to embrace the excellence of my creator. My ears are attuned to all sorts of sounds and at once I can place their origin.

I hear the call of a bird and I know its shape and color, but not yet its name.

I feel the wind, and am conscious of its intention, whether it will bring a gentle rain or a refreshing breeze. I hear the call of an animal and know its form.

Look there, a deer is approaching me, not shy, not bold, his eyes glancing at me. He nods his head, as if in greeting. He nibbles some pure and succulent grass. I notice an antler shorn off or broken, from mating and carousing. How re-assuring. Their sex instinct is still intact.

Would this apply to humans as well? I had often wondered about the place of sex, of reproduction, in the new creation. If it applies to animals, as I assume, will it then not apply to God’s very image bearers?

Here I am, not even having met another human, and already my thoughts turn to sex and that is also re-assuring. I am still human after all. Would God, in eternity, deprive me of one of the greatest experiences I had in my former life? Of course not.

What shape will this take? I will find out. I am sure that many surprises will come my way. It will take some time to get used to the new me, to learn about myself. But then, what is time? With a smile I recall keeping track of my running time with that silvery watch bought at a Montreal flea market for ten dollars. Now I have all the time in the world. Whether I spend a second or a thousand years to look inside myself, it matters no more. How about this new body of mine? It feels fine now, but will it notice the difference between one hour without food and one year? Or sleep? The air is so pure here that my body probably can do without sleep. Sleep, after all, is a sort of death, a time to forget, a time for restoration, for sorting out in dreams the many conflicting messages we were bombarded with. No, sleep is out.

Light. The Light is everywhere. There does not seem to be a single source of light, but there are myriads of lights. What a treat to again walk in the bright daylight. No radio here to warn me about ultra violet rays. I look up at the sun, its light again like the eye of God, no longer a harbinger of evil.

A soft light encompasses all objects. The deep green trees sway in the soft breeze, their branches bobbing, birds happily hopping on them.

Birds. I’ve never seen so many different ones, some singing, some feeding, all colourful. I walk up to an unusually brilliant one and see a head of deep satiny yellow; at the throat a patch of irreverent green, the breast, the back, the wings a golden brown, and from under the wings long bright red plumes, fanning out behind a large ceremonial cloak. It must be a bird of Paradise, now no longer a waste of beauty, no longer living out its charms in wild, inhospitable areas. Now, unafraid, proud to show off its grandiose splendor, without fear of being caught and caged and sold at a high price. There I spot some sparrows: even these grey birds now shine in a silvery tint.

And then the apple came. I clearly recall it now. It just plunked into my hand as if from nowhere. Where did it come from? Is there an apple tree close by?