I
thought it strange that where a moment ago there was the magnificent
panorama of the "smallest bit of Heaven", now there was
nothing. Or mostly nothing. As I gazed with increasing intensity, I
began to see more clearly (is that how everything works here?
I wondered).
At
a very great distance a sphere began to emerge, like a pale,
variegated marble. More than anything it looked like a gray-scale
rendering of iconic pictures of my home planet.
"Is
that Earth?" I asked. I sensed, more than saw him nod in the
affirmative.
"Why
does it look like that? I would have expected it to be in giga-pixel
color depth. You know, trillions-and-trillions-of-colors."
"You
are seeing it from the context of Heaven. Brother C.S. Lewis called
it Shadowlands. You can see why. In comparison to the reality of this
place, the fallen Creation is quite dull and drab. Of course, it
wasn't that way in The Beginning, nor will it remain that way
forever, but that is how it is now when seen in comparison to its
source."
There
were so many things I could have said, then. But what I ended up
saying is, "why would anybody want to go there?"
"Its
destiny is to be recreated as the New Earth, but seen at this time
from here, you are viewing its true appearance."
"It
looks dead."
"Yes,
but it's not. It is filled with life; life lived in the Shadows of
Death."
"It
is unpleasant to look at. What are those darker patches there and
there?" I asked, pointing to where I began to see them appear on
the planet's surface. Again, as I willed myself to look closer, the
Earth's image enlarged. I felt that if I wanted to, I could have
visually dived beneath its lackluster atmosphere.
He
sighed then, and it was the first hint I had gotten from him of
anything less than a vast, serene joy. I looked his way. He was sad,
and for some reason that shook me to my very core.
"Whoa,
whoa whoa!" I almost yelled. "I thought in Heaven there
would be no more tears or sorrow or pain!"
"We
are not in Heaven proper, nor anywhere near His throne, nor are we in
the Time of the Restoration of All Things. Those dark patches are
human souls dying in unbelief. We are witnessing the black gateways
of Hades opening up to consume them, where each one will remain until
they are cast into the Lake of Fire, along with Death, Satan, and the
rest of his minions at the at the end of history. And there in Outer
Darkness they will remain in torment forever and ever."
The
timbre of his voice as he spoke was full of a grief so profound and
ancient that it seemed to come from the beginning of time itself. As
I turned away and gingerly looked back over the edge, I saw an
increasing number of these blackened discolorations. Each grew larger
and appeared more frequently, as if the Gates of Hell itself were
multiplying and spreading like some kind of planet-sized malignancy
consuming all life and hope. I desperately wanted to turn away, to
look once more at the vastness and beauty of Heaven, but I could not.
I could only continue to gaze downward through my suddenly
tear-filled eyes.
But
then, a brief blaze of light! There on the surface below! Tiny
pinpoints at first, but still a stark contrast to the pervasive
darkness. While these did not obscure the black holes peppering the
fabric of the earth's drab surface, their appearance seemed
miraculous and powerful nonetheless; beacons of something, maybe
hope, or life, or I didn't know what, but something good in a
horrible sea of despair.
Then
I did know, as sure as I knew anything.
"His
children!" I cried excitedly, wanting to hug my counterpart in a
sudden ferocious joy. Instead I pounded him enthusiastically on the
back. "Yes! Yes!" I shouted. "It's not all darkness
and death and despair! There's…"
"Light!"
he finished for me. "And life!" His face was now as it was
before, but more… radiant. His smile returned, seeming to dispel
the crushing aura from the planet below. "Young and old. Alive
and ALIVE, although their outward shells are perishing, their inward
parts are being transformed from glory to glory. They are the ones
bought with a price. Saved from the gates of Hell by faith in the Son
of God!"
Although
he was merely speaking, it seemed like he sung a glorious ancient
hymn that reverberated throughout the Realm of Heaven, accompanied by
an invisible chorus of music and voices so sweet and so powerful that
my heart soared.
And
then a flash of light brighter than all the others, and more
sustained, like a sunspot or a brilliant, city-sized flare blazing
across the darkness.
"What
is that?" I asked, as if a two-year old seeing my first sunrise.
"Who
is that," he clarified.
© Bill Lilley 2011, 2013
