THOUGHTS OF ETERNITY are terrifying if we believe that this life only exists in the time bookmarked between birth and death. The first welcomes us into existence before consciousness begins; the second develops a grinding inevitable sense of terminus as we age. Time becomes short, and the shadow becomes long. This not so for people of faith, in particular for those of faith in the God of the bible.
The eleventh of Hebrews is known as the faith chapter. It begins with the bible’s definition of this attribute. “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.” (Heb. 11:1) It immediately follows with a value statement according high honor to that virtue, one worthy of practicing ourselves, in the example of those whose memories live on in the collective conscious. “This is what the ancients were commended for.” (Heb. 11:2) Beginning with Abel, and leading up to and beyond Abraham, the ancients are named and their faith is described by the actions they took to honor God in the face of adversity.
Abel’s offering of sacrifice pleased God. “By faith he was commended as righteous, when God spoke well of his offerings.” (Heb. 11:4) It came not from the work of his hands, like that of Cain, but from what God had supplied. It was a foreshadowing of a kind of first-fruits acknowledgment of God’s sovereignty, provision, and favor. In this litany of praise of the ancients, of particular note is the praise given Abraham, who is known by Jews and Christians alike as the father of faith. God promised not only an heir in his childless old age, but later a land for his descendants, “Abram believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness.” (Gen. 15:6) Both Abel and Abraham are declared as righteous in God’s sight—their faith has been proven by their actions. Through belief, not force of human will, they have done that which is in accordance with what God required of them, and he is pleased. In Abel, we begin to widen our discovery of the story of humanity, but it is in Abraham that we discover the story of people chosen of God, and who choose God. It is a story of Jew and Christian alike, and it is also your story and mine.
Perhaps we should start the story of faith, not with the recounting of Abel’s or Abraham’s in Genesis or Hebrews, but with this revelation of the mind and purposes of God found in Solomon’s thoughts on wisdom. “He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” (Ecc. 3:11) Here we discover an underlying universal tension in the human expression and enjoyment of life. It is achingly beautiful in it’s various seasons, from youth to old age for those whose senses are engaged in the present moment. But is also both sweet in its savor and bitter in its loss against the backdrop of eternity if this life is all there is. Something within us cries out, “This cannot be so—this expression of life through life experiences, this sense of self-identity and significance cannot end, and the universe go on without us!”
The beckoning door of eternity, according to the word of God and the testimony of the ancients, is a seed of faith that God places in each human heart. It is one that each of us has the responsibility of nurturing into hope through the process of establishing the steps of faith that take us through this life and through the doorway into the next. When we take these steps, God accords it to us as righteousness. It is God’s promise that is the sure foundation of our hope. It is our faithful actions that become the proof of our faith.
Abraham’s story becomes the story of a race of people overcoming all obstacles, including time, to enter the long-standing promise of a land of their own. In Abraham, the seed of that story is in his future vision. “For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.” (Heb. 11:11)
In our present-day story, faith and righteousness take on a new expression. Life does not end with the beginning; instead, there is no end. The separation of faith and works, first seen in Abel and Cain, have clearer distinctions. The Promised Land is no longer a set of geographical boundaries; it is the Kingdom of God, both present and future. And all of this becomes clear in the light of he who is light, Jesus.
The eleventh chapter of Hebrews is brought to exactly this revelation in the beginning verses of the twelfth. “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Heb. 12:1-2) In the testimony of the ancients, and in and through the life of the Messiah, we each find our sure foundation. Hope is indeed in one sense deferred, for the substance of our hope lies beyond this life. But it is even stronger for this—it is now an eternal, not a temporal hope. It is a hope no longer bound by time, just as we are no longer enslaved to the anxiety of a diminishing amount of sand in a figurative hourglass. We realize with surety that we are what we were when we began: eternal. Better yet, we realize our eternal destination: “The city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.” (Heb. 11:11)
Q. Do I know that I know that I know that there is a room prepared for me?
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