Everything temporary. Everything eternal.
Why nothing matters and everything matters all at the same time.
Does your life matter? Full stop.
I mean, yikes. If that doesn’t make you want to stop reading this, then I don’t know what will. What a bunch of existential bullsh*t.
Before you bail on this email, stay with me a little longer because that question leads to some better, and, I think, more thought-provoking ones. Like, what does it mean for a life to matter? Do some lives matter more than others? Do we have control over the significance of our lives? Do any lives matter? Do questions about lives that matter make your palms sweat because of the political undertones that are clearly there but remain unaddressed?
Maybe.
I know. It’s heavy. But I also know I’m not alone in having these thoughts.
If you’re like me, you’ve probably found yourself at the top of a personal podium and thought, “Is this it?” You’ve taken your hundredth dose of the achievement and accomplishment drugs and found that they just don’t hit the same anymore.
Or you’ve knelt at the foot of a mountain you knew you’d never get over and thought, “Does life not get better?” You’ve sat in the valleys of grief and shame and hurt and pleaded that there be more to this world than pain.
Somehow, both extremes of the human experience leave us wanting. The lowest lows are too low and the highest highs aren’t high enough. No matter where we sit on that spectrum today, we’re moving toward one kind of disappointment or another. Disillusionment awaits behind every door.
There’s something in us that knows this isn’t quite right. When we near one of life’s extremes—or even in moments where the mundane feels extra dull—we have alarm bells in us that start to sound (or at least tinkle), letting us know that something is awry. For me, this often feels like a sudden and strong desire to get outside and do something different (whatever “different” may mean). It’s the same sensation you would get if you decided to go for a walk in a nearby park but after a few minutes you looked down and realized you had unknowingly started walking on your treadmill instead. It’s a silent voice in your head that says, “Am I going in the right direction? Am I even moving at all?”
I have a theory that those alarm bells mean something. I have a theory about why we feel dissatisfied in the one world, one life, one body, we’re capable of occupying. And it has to do with death. With the idea that if there’s something past our final breath (and that’s big “if”), then that something has a say on what we do right now.
Let’s look at both options. If we believe that life ends at death, then what we do today is remarkably simple. If death is really the end, then our one job is to enjoy the time we have here while we still have it. The logic is sound. Unfortunately, this ambition, while attractive in its simplicity, offers zero satisfaction for the highs and lows we’ll face along the way. Those things are just how the cookie crumbles or whatever.
Ironically, if we believe there is life after death—either nominally because we were raised in a religious household or legitimately—our current task for today is actually less clear. While an afterlife inherently offers an answer to the current state of dissatisfaction, it doesn’t necessarily tell us what to do until then. Because if the most meaningful and substantive aspects of life occur after death, then we’re really just here to kill time (pardon the pun) and wait for what’s next. Which still leaves us with cookie crumbs in our lap wondering what to do with our here and now as well as why our here and now exist at all if something else, something better, exists as well.
Either way, whether we embrace the Christian teachings on the afterlife or not, it can still seem like what we do today is inconsequential. Either we die and it’s over, or we live forever and forget most of it. Now, we’re back at the start. Do our lives matter? Or, to ask this another way, do our beliefs about the afterlife affect the way we live today?
The Christian answer to this question is often murky. When asked, “Does my life really matter?” a trained theologian will respond with a resounding “Yes, but…”
Yes, your life really matters, but at the same time, your life isn’t about you. Yes, your life really matters, but only insofar as it goes to serve the work of God, which is, in its simplest terms, all about bringing people into an eternal relationship with him. Yes, your life really matters, but that is primarily because you still have the opportunity to tell others about Jesus and invite them into that relationship.
For the record, I believe all those things. But those answers only serve to raise more questions.
Is every moment we spend in a non-evangelistic state time wasted? Also, if our only role in this temporal world is to invite people into the eternal, then why are we even bothering with the temporal at all? What’s preventing God from coming back and putting us before the pearly gates right now?
Again, the theologian has a response. Every day the Lord tarries (no one other than a theologian would use the word “tarries”) is a day of new grace where he is allowing even just one more soul to turn to him. Each moment is a new mercy.
I believe that too. That is, yet again, a beautiful picture. God sitting on his throne, giving each of us another chance to turn to him. Sounds nice. Yet at the same time, and I don’t mean to sound rude, but…is that it? Is that the only reason he’s waiting?
I hate to point this out, but for every soul that turns his way today a thousand new ones are born, so is God going to wait on them too? Or, of course, I almost forgot—we’re still here as his evangelistic tool, so it’s our responsibility to give these people, both new and old, their invitation into eternity. But wow, we are way behind and falling evermore behind with every passing second.
If you’re a Christian, the harsh truth is that at one point in your life you sat on a plane next to a stranger and you didn’t tell them about Jesus. And you felt guilty. That is, after all, your one job. If we only have one purpose (evangelism) and we routinely fail at fulfilling that purpose (which we do), then we are stuck in a frustrating cycle that only (theoretically) ends when we die.
But I have one more question. This is the Big One. Is it possible that God is waiting for something else?
Is it possible that something about our current, temporary existence has eternal significance? Is it possible that God wants to do something in us, through us, and around us today? Is it possible that what we do with our lives, including the things that aren’t outright evangelism, matters...I mean, really matters?
I don’t think I’m alone in wanting more. And by “more” I mean, I want who I am and what I do to mean something, to contain importance, to have value. I want this world and the lives that comprise it to possess a little more, oh I don’t know...substance.
Let me close with some good news. This is the whole thing: God has not abandoned us to live a meaningless, waiting-period life in his beautiful and glorious creation. Neither has he given us a life of unfulfilled, unrealistic evangelical expectations. How that works is something I plan to continue writing about.
For now, I just want you to consider that the line between the world we experience today and the world we were made for isn’t all that thick. That the veil between these two worlds is even thinner than we thought. Or maybe that there’s no veil at all.
Maybe everything we do matters.
Maybe nothing we do matters.
Maybe both of those things are true at the very same time.
Thanks for reading this far.
-jd
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What do you think?
I know this is a long one, so I’m not going to drag out this second section. Instead, I want to hear your thoughts on what you just read. Do you agree? Do you disagree? Do you feel similarly? Do you feel differently? Are you tired of questions? What other questions would you like me to ask? What’s your favorite color? Does something like that even matter? Does my life even matter? Oh no, what do I do now that we’re back where we’re started?
The people who read this monthly email are smart and capable individuals. I know that because I know most of you. So, you’re invited into the conversation. Challenge what you just read above. Show me where I’m wrong. Show me where to double down on what you think is right. Did anything you just read make you feel uneasy? Did any of it put words to something you’ve wondered about or felt before?
My fascination with the line between eternal/temporal isn’t going anywhere. Hit reply and let’s learn about it together.
This is the second "Paper" I've read. Joel, whom I've known for over 65 years, sent me a previous one. I liked it so much I signed up for your monthly writings. You're doing a great job writing very thought-provoking subjects. Keep up the good work.