When I attempted, a few minutes ago, to describe our spiritual longings, I was omitting one of their most curious characteristics. We usually notice it just as the moment of vision dies away, as the music ends or as the landscape loses the celestial light. … For a few minutes we have had the illusion of belonging to that world. Now we wake to find that it is no such thing. We have been mere spectators. Beauty has smiled, but not to welcome us; her face was turned in our direction, but not to see us. -CS Lewis, The Weight of Glory
Expanding on my recent post, consider the creation. In our yards, countless worms burrow every morning. Bugs fly around. Birds seek food. Perennials drop their leaves to hunker down for a long winter. All of it happens whether I exist or not. It happens whether I feel good or ill. No government program can stop it.
The world goes to work on Monday morning– without calling me first. My wife and family do countless things throughout the day that I never hear of. Our cat jumps on our table when we’re not in the room (she’s too dumb to know that the fur gives it away).
The point: none of it has anything to do with me. Or you. We’re not even in control of our own lives. All around us, economies rise and fall, elections and layoffs happen, people die, etc. Even in the things where it seems we are masters of our destiny, like where we work, upon a little reflection it turns out that our control is an illusion.
It’s all about Him. And when He returns, when the King comes, everything will vanish before His throne. The loftiest sports stars and politicians and nations will be as nothing– how could they ever have been a big deal? All will be clear. The eyes of all creation, which often seems robotic and yet waits with longing (Rom 8:17), will be on its Maker.
If we believe this, maybe it should inform how we live now.