A Moment Outside Space and Time

"He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world."  

Ephesians 1:14

When Dennis had his stroke, in the first ten minutes before the ambulance came, I had the strangest experience.  It seemed as if time were suspended, as if Dennis and I were alone together in the universe, with no awareness of any other place outside that spot on the bedroom floor where he had fallen, no awareness that anything existed outside our own present experience.  

I had no thoughts of the past or the future.  I was not yet grieving or even afraid.  I was suspended in shock, and obviously anxious, but not for what might be coming, only for what was happening right then.  My mind and heart were rooted in that present moment, in that present place.  

I believe in those few moments Dennis and I were existing, together, not in time, but in eternity.  We were existing in the state in which we had been chosen by God, before "time" and "space" were created--before "the foundation of the world."

The amazing Truth is that our identity, our calling, our reason for being is rooted in eternity.  That's when God chose us, when He determined that we would be born, that we would die, at a particular time, and in a specific place in history. 

In the same way, our destiny is rooted in eternity.  Jesus said, 

"Do not let your hearts be troubled.  Trust in God; trust also in me.  In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so I would have told you.  I am going there to prepare a place for you.  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am."  (John 14:1-3)

Jesus' statement is full of references to both place and time, but He is referring to a "place" and "time" that will be outside the realm of both.  He has prepared a place in eternity for us.  In that "place" we will exist in an eternal "moment" that will be full of a kind of bliss we can't even imagine down here.  

He's promised us that. In that "place" and at that "time,"  

"He will wipe every tear from their eyes.  There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." (Revelation 21:4)

In those few moments as I sat beside Dennis on the floor, holding him, waiting through what seemed like an eternity before the ambulance came, it was as if the veil were removed.  

All the barriers were down--all the barriers that we construct over a lifetime to protect us from the harshness of the broken world we are all born into--the barriers that separate us from each other--the barriers that separate us from our Creator and from heaven.

They were all gone.  

In that moment, Dennis and I existed, together, in the "place" and at the "time" when we had been chosen by God.  It was a moment of eternity, and, though it was an unbelievably anxious time, there was a sense of awe about it.  

Dennis stayed in that moment.  

I will be there one day as well.  

Joy will come to stay in that morning moment.  

A great hope!

Looking at the Invisible

"So we fix our [spiritual] eyes not on what is seen [with our physical eyes], but on what is unseen [invisible to the human eye], since what is seen [with the naked eye] is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."   2 Corinthians 4:18

"Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."   Hebrews 11:1

Nothing puts us so intimately in touch with unseen realities as the death of a loved one.  Dennis' death nearly six months ago has gently skewed my perspective toward heaven.  That's one of the many good things God has brought out of this great grief He has allowed into my life.

When our physical lives go on uninterrupted, day after day, it's easy to lose sight of what is ultimately real.  We become so focused on the present moment in our own small corner of the universe that we forget how small a sphere that blip on the radar screen really is.  It seems like the whole universe to us, but it's not.  And coming to terms with this reality is the only way to peace and joy while we're making our way through this temporary, alien world.  It's the only way to experience the life we were created to enjoy.

While Dennis was dying, my friend Sharon was facing her own mortality.  She has battled cancer and won, for the time being.  But she now lives with the side effects of her treatments and the realization that the cancer might come back.  Her perspective on ultimate reality has been an inspiration to me.

She says, If I look at my life and everything that happens with my lens focused too closely, it is easy to despair.  But when I step back, refocus, and look at it in the context of Scripture, of who I am in Christ and His promise that I will share in His inheritance and be with Him eternally, these other things become so small and temporal in comparison. 

What I mean to say is that the outcome is the same--my physical body will one day give out.  Whether that happens a year from now or 40 years from now, I am still going to a glorious eternal life!  Makes me wonder why we fight so hard to stay here (like the Israelites kept looking back to Egypt, rather than go on joyfully to the promised land).

My friend no longer lives for her life down here.  She realizes there is a better one ahead, and that reality shines out through her broken body with a clear, eternal light.

In February I wrote about our pilgrimage through the Valley of Baca.  My friend is on that pilgrimage and she has turned the Valley of Baca into a place of springs.  She is going from strength to strength, and strengthening other pilgrims on the way, because she is looking at the invisible.

If I had to choose one daily devotional to subscribe to it would be the one provided by Open Doors, the ministry organization that cares for persecuted Christians around the world.  Every day's message is a refreshing spring to my spirit, and a challenge to remember to look, every day, at the invisible.