The Divine Conspiracy, page 48
Most important, this concerns the future of God’s own people, the children of light. Throughout history they often have been far less than what they should be. That is still true today. But “I will put My law within them, and on their heart I will write it…. And they shall not teach again, each man his neighbor and brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they shall all know Me, from the least of them to the greatest” (Jer. 31:33–34; cf. Ezek. 11:19–20; Heb. 10:16).
Incredibly, to fulfill his intention to be known by dwelling in his people, God chose to occupy a tent—a tent!—for decades of grubby desert camping. “I will consecrate the tent of meeting and the altar,” he said to Moses, “and I will dwell among the children of Israel and will be their God. And they shall know that I am the Lord their God who brought them out of Egypt, that I might dwell among them” (Exod. 29:44–46).
The picture of a community of people to be inhabited by God is carried over to the new covenant in many New Testament passages, none more beautiful than those in Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. There he says to the non-Jewish believers, who had previously been “nobodies”: “You are fellow citizens with the holy ones, you are God’s household, having been based upon a foundation of apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the stone around which the house is built. In him the entire building fits together and grows into a sacred gathering, becoming a dwelling place of God in the Spirit” (Eph. 2:19–22).
The purpose of God with human history is nothing less than to bring out of it—small and insignificant as it seems from the biological and naturalistic point of view—an eternal community of those who were once thought to be just “ordinary human beings.”8 Because of God’s purposes for it, this community will, in its way, pervade the entire created realm and share in the government of it. God’s precreation intention to have that community as a special dwelling place or home will be realized. He will be its prime sustainer and most glorious inhabitant.
But why? What is the point of it? The purpose is to meet what can only be described as a need of God’s nature as totally competent love. It is the same purpose that manifests itself in his creation of the world. Only in the light of such a creation and such a redeemed community is it possible for God to be known in his deepest nature. They make it possible for God to be known. And love unknown is love unfulfilled. Moreover, the welfare of every conscious being in existence depends upon their possession of this knowledge of God.
Therefore, after long ages of preparation, redemption came among us in the form of his Son, “so that through all the eons to come the illimitable stores of his grace would be clear to all in his kindness toward us in Christ” (Eph. 2:7).
This plan had long remained a “mystery” to human beings, and even to the people of the Old Covenant. They were drawn into the divine conspiracy that they themselves did not understand. “Mystery” means, in the language of the New Testament, something that had long remained hidden but then came to be known for the first time. The “mystery” of this kindness had been “hidden for ages in God who created all things” (Eph. 3:9). But it is gently brought to light through the gospel, “so that the multi-faceted wisdom of God can, through the history and destiny of the redeemed people, become obvious to those who, under him, are responsible in various capacities throughout the universe.” (3:10).
The Human Significance of God’s Future for Us
A human life or a human world is one that holds together in terms of the future. It essentially involves meaning. Meaning is not a luxury for us. It is a kind of spiritual oxygen, we might say, that enables our souls to live.9 It is a “going beyond,” a transcendence of whatever state we are in toward that which completes it. The meaning of present events in human life is largely a matter of what comes later. Thus, anything that “has no future” is meaningless in the human order. That is why we try to avoid it as much as possible. It stifles us.
This life structure is mirrored in language, where meaning and meaningfulness most clearly display themselves. Thus, if we hear only the word water or see it written down somewhere, we do not know whether it is a verb or a noun. Hence we cannot know what it refers to or what it is about. If the remainder of a sentence is given, however, it may be either one: as in “Water my plants while I’m away,” where it is a verb, or “Water is essential to life on this planet,” where it is a noun.
Events in a human life are like that, and so is a human life as a whole, as well as human life itself. They resemble the opening words in an unfinished sentence, paragraph, chapter, or book. In a sense we can identify them and grasp them, but we cannot know what they mean and really are until we know what comes later. Thus we are always seeking the meaning of events we live through and of our lives themselves. We wonder about the meaning of historical events and personages, or even of human history itself. And it is always true that meaning is found, when it is found, in some larger context.
From Jesus we learn of the ultimate context, God and his kingdom. In the future phases of that kingdom lies the meaning of our lives and, indeed, of the history of the earth of which we are a part. Jesus insisted, as we have seen, upon the present reality of the “kingdom of the heavens” and made that the basis of his gospel. But he also recognized that there was a future fullness to the kingdom, as well as an everlasting enjoyment of life in God far transcending the earth and life on it.
We are greatly strengthened for life in the kingdom now by an understanding of what our future holds, and especially of how that future relates to our present experience. For only then do we really understand what our current life is and are we able to make choices that agree with reality.
But it is not only Christians who have understood the importance of our eternal future. Other thoughtful people have seen it, though not the purposes of God in human history and redemption that are unique to the gospel of Jesus. Insight into the very nature of the human self has led them to it.
For example, Plato’s account of the last hours of Socrates has him saying,
If the soul is immortal, it demands our care not only for that part of time which we call life, but for all time: and indeed it would seem now that it will be extremely dangerous to neglect it. If death were a release from everything, it would be a boon for the wicked. But since the soul is clearly immortal, it can have no escape or security from evil except by becoming as good and wise as it possibly can. For it takes nothing with it to the next world except its education and training: and these, we are told, are of supreme importance in helping or harming the newly dead at the very beginning of his journey there.10
But, unfortunately, one of the least sensible and useful parts of current presentations of the Christian gospel is precisely where it concerns the future of individual and corporate humanity in God’s world. There are numerous reasons for this, not least the confused and unhelpful pictures of heaven and hell that have come down to us, as well as the presumably “scientific picture of man” that brands the very idea of continued existence beyond the body as whimsical nonsense.
In bringing this book on the divine conspiracy to a close, we must try to cast some light on what our future life in the kingdom will be like and to undermine some of the major hindrances to hearty confidence that the teachings of Jesus and his followers about our future really are true.
The Reasonableness of Preserving and Restoring Humanity
And first of all, is it truly reasonable to think that we will continue beyond the demise of our bodies? In the light of God and his kingdom, once again, it very definitely is. As John Hick, one of the most widely known Christian thinkers of our day, has nicely put it,
If we trust what Jesus said out of his own direct consciousness of God, we shall share his belief in the future life. This belief is supported by the reasoning that a God of infinite love would not create finite persons and then drop them out of existence when the potentialities of their nature, including their awareness of himself, have only just begun to be realized.11
In other words, given the reality of God’s world, it would actually be unreasonable to think we would simply drop out of existence.
We must be sure to add, however, that our continued existence is not primarily for our benefit, but God’s. It is not just because we would like to continue to be that he decides to continue to put up with us. Rather, he has made a great, often terrifying, investment in individual human beings as well as in corporate humanity. Needless to say, it is something he regards as well worth the effort. And he is not about to lose the result by permitting human beings to cease to exist. “He shall see the travail of his soul,” the ancient prophecy says, “and be satisfied” (Isa. 53:10–11).
We exist and will continue to exist, then, because it pleases God. He sees that it is good. This is how the Twenty-third Psalm is to be understood. “Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death,” death looming over me, “I fear no evil!” How, really, can this be? It is not just a frightened person whistling in the dark. It is experience-based knowledge of the reality of God’s rod (protection) and staff (correction) that comfort me. “His goodness and mercy dog my steps through the days of my life, and I shall reside in his house forever.” How does the psalmist know this? Because he knows God. He knows him in regular interactions in the real world. Those interactions show who God is, and what God, therefore, will certainly do! That is what the Twenty-third Psalm says.
And the Possibility
Thus the existence of the God of Jesus simply dissolves any problem about whether “survival” is to be expected. Moreover, his own being proves that personal existence is not, as such, dependent upon matter. Instead, matter depends on him. He did quite well without a physical universe before he created it. He undoubtedly has the very highest quality of consciousness—and all this without a brain!
God, many are now shocked to realize, does not have a brain. And he never misses it. This is something one must never forget. Body and brain come from him, not the other way around. And in him our own personal being will be as secure without body and brain as it now is with body and brain. In fact, much more so.
Those who do not understand this, or for various reasons reject it, often speak as if believing in a future for human beings beyond the demise of their current body were a matter of emotional “needs”—really, of moral deficiencies. What is meant is that people who do not believe in survival are brave, while others are cowards. But if you approach this issue with an open mind, and on a case by case basis, you will discover that bravery and cowardice are about equally distributed among those who do and those who do not believe in survival. Those who do not believe in an afterlife are not noticeably braver than those who do.
But in any case this is a thoughtless and childish way of approaching things. It reminds me of a lady I know who refused to talk about life beyond death with her children because, she said, she didn’t want them to be disappointed if it turned out not to be there. Well, now…. If there is no afterlife they certainly won’t be disappointed. If there is, they may find themselves badly prepared. The only possible way they could be disappointed is if they do continue to exist.
If, indeed, what happens at physical death is the cessation of the person, then approaching death is, at worst, like going to the surgeon. It is unpleasant, but at least it will be over soon, and there will then be no pain, no suffering, no regrets. No you. No anything, so far as you are concerned.
The truly brave person is surely the one who can cheerfully face the prospect of an unending existence. Suppose you are never going to stop existing and there is nothing you can do about it—except possibly make your future existence as desirable an existence as possible? That would call for real courage.
Accordingly, relief at the thought of the cessation of being is a theme commonly expressed throughout the ages. One of the great world religions presents it as the condition most to be desired. The ancient Epicureans were famous for stressing it. And in the words of the poet Swinburne,
From too much love of living,
From hope and fear set free,
We thank with brief thanksgiving
Whatever gods may be,
That no life lives forever;
That dead men rise up never;
That even the weariest river
Winds somewhere safe to sea.12
This poet goes on, in a characteristic manner, to celebrate “only the sleep eternal in an eternal night.” But of course there will then be no one to enjoy that sleep. It will not be sleep.
Now if the self-revealing God of the biblical tradition is omitted or made hopelessly mysterious, in the manner of most modern thought and even theology, then we well might hope for an eternal night. Then we would not only have no regrets when we are “gone,” but shortly thereafter no one will have any regrets. For there will soon be no one. The career of our little planet is but a moment in cosmic time. From the human point of view, there would be little to lament—and very soon no one to lament it.
But from the point of view of “our Father, the one in the heavens,” it is quite another story. He treasures those whom he has created, planned for, longed for, sorrowed over, redeemed, and befriended. The biblical language expressing their relationship to him is so intimate as to be almost embarrassing. The psalmist cries, “Do not deliver the soul of thy turtledove to the wild beast; Do not forget the life of thine afflicted forever” (Ps. 74:19). You are never going to cease existing, and there is nothing you can do about it.
Again, Jesus’ special word for the Father, “Abba,” or “Daddy,” expresses a relationship of treasuring and being treasured that simply cannot conceivably be broken. The God of Jesus will obviously preserve the human personality within the eternality of his own life. Once you think it through, anything else is simply inconceivable. Not because of us, once again, but because of God.
What Will Our Future Life Be Like?
Now is it true, as many suggest, “that we know nothing concrete about the conditions of our existence after death”?13 Strangely, the same author from whom these words are taken goes right on to acknowledge that, in describing our life after the demise of our body, Jesus
used symbols pointing to eternal life as limitlessly enhanced life, as a state of being more intensely alive in an existence which is both perfect fulfillment and yet also endless activity and newness. If death leads eventually to that, then although we shall still think of it…with trembling awe and apprehension, yet it will not evoke terror or despair; for beyond death we…will not be less alive but more alive than we are now.
But to know “eternal life as limitlessly enhanced life,” in which we are “more intensely alive” in “perfect fulfillment and yet also endless activity and newness” is surely to know a huge amount “about the conditions of our existence after death.”
For example, we can be sure that heaven in the sense of our afterlife is just our future in this universe. There is not another universe besides this one. God created the heavens and the earth. That’s it. And much of the difficulty in having a believable picture of heaven and hell today comes from the centuries-long tendency to “locate” them in “another reality” outside the created universe.
But time is within eternity, not outside it. The created universe is within the kingdom of God, not outside it. And if there is anything we know now about the “physical” universe, it surely is that it would be quite adequate to eternal purposes. And given that it has been produced, which is not seriously in doubt, all that one might require of an utterly realistic future for humanity in it is surely possible.
Really Knowing—for the First Time
When we pass through what we call death, we do not lose the world. Indeed, we see it for the first time as it really is. Paul makes this crucial point in 1 Corinthians 13. His own experiences of various kinds had assured him of the utter reality of God and the spiritual realm.
His understanding was that in what we call our “normal” states and conditions we have in fact a very distorted view of reality. We are like little children, who really have no idea of what is going on around them (1 Cor. 11). But when we move through “death” we shall, in his words, “know fully, as I have been fully known.”
As we have been known by whom? Certainly by God, a myriad of angels, the spirits of just men perfected, and Jesus, as indicated in Heb. 12:22–23, or by the “great cloud of witness” mentioned earlier in Hebrews 12. They see and know things as they really are. And so shall we. That is the quality of consciousness and life we will have.
Paul, like other biblical figures, actually had stood in the visible presence of these beings, and he knew that from their point of view he was fully known. He understood that when we move out of this body and into God’s full world, we will have the same kind of fullness and clarity of experience as those beings now have of him and all things.
And that only reflects what is the standard biblical teaching: “There is no creature hidden from His sight, but all things are open and laid bare to the eyes of Him with whom we have to do” (Heb. 4:13). The spiritual realm is the realm of truth, not of distortion (John 4:23). Angels are understood in both Old and New Testament to be “watchers,” witnesses, of the scene on earth. No doubt they too see things as they are, unassisted and unhindered by a brain or a body.
In our present embodied position, by contrast, we always see things in distortion, “as in a mirror.” The mirrors that could be made in Paul’s day were quite unsatisfactory and never allowed one to see things in them as they really are. When we move beyond the body in its current form, it will be like turning from the distorted mirror image (our current “knowledge”) to the real things, or like moving from a child’s perception of things to the perceptions of mature adults.
Yet many who believe in this future condition treat it as a kind of dreamlike, drifting, hazy condition, or one in which we have no awareness of our selves or sense of our self-identity. One wonders why. Perhaps it is because of the often-drawn parallel of death with sleeping and its corresponding dream state. But that parallel applies only to the body, not the person. The person does not “sleep.” Or perhaps one thinks that passing through death we are in a shocked condition, as we are in a body that has been badly hurt. But when we pass through, we are, precisely, not in a body that is injured and dysfunctional.
