“Eternity” a fear greater than death
I remember my first exposure to Christian theology. I was six, seven perhaps. I remember how difficult it was learning about death.
But afterwards, someone, I don’t remember who, possibly my mother, told me about heaven, a place where one could live forever. And while it was nice that this solved the death problem, I distinctly remember how baffled I was by the concept of “living forever.”
I remember sitting out on the front steps of our family home and contemplating what, in my mind, seemed a kind of madness, living forever. No, I didn’t want to die, and I was glad that someone had a solution, but logistically, I was dumbfounded. There on the front steps, in attempt to reconcile and understand, I’d imagine a great tunnel where the mass of the deceased followed behind God, a tall bearded man in beige robes. His beard was brown, not long, but moderately tailored, God in his prime I suppose, a child’s God. So we, the dead, followed behind him and he, God, continually slammed fist after fist against the wall of time, making more of it open up for us, through and beyond and then some against the very bedrock of eternity. And we just followed on behind, holding faith that God would continue forever to exhaust his energies on our behalf.
It troubled me, as a child, this eternity.