The Circle of “Eternal” Life

“Larry, please tell the congregation what you’re grateful for this morning.” Those were the words written in my copy of the morning’s order of worship.

When Joan reminded me, earlier in the week, that I was scheduled to be liturgist on Sunday, my first thought was, “Oh crap. I need to be grateful again?” I know that’s terrible. I’m just being honest. 

At our church, liturgists always introduce the offering by sharing a statement of gratitude. One Sunday, the liturgist said she was grateful for words and books. Katie teaches English and she’s not only grateful for words. She’s good with them. Her gratitude statement resonated with me. I like to read. I like to write. I am also grateful for words. But I couldn’t say that. Katie already claimed words. 

The week before, David said he was grateful for circles. Well, shoot. I am a former Geometry teacher. I love circles. I love squares, rectangles, triangles and all kinds of shapes. David’s statement also connected. David said more though. He talked about how life is filled with circular events and when they are completed, when the arc connects and actually forms a circle, the event is complete. Incomplete circles can be unsettling.

Our pastor had just returned from a three-month sabbatical. When the sabbatical ended, the circle was complete. We were all ready for that circle to be completed. We were eager to have our pastor back in the pulpit. Or think of baseball. I love baseball. But I like it when the game ends, especially when my team wins. A baseball game that never ends would be miserable. Or road trips. Loading up the car and heading down the road is one of my favorite things. It wouldn’t be quite as fun, however, if we never got to our destination. Circles that are not complete leave us anxious, unnerved. There must be closure. 

I talked with David after that service. We talked about circles. My thoughts were not coherent yet, but that didn’t stop me from verbalizing them to my friend. I mentioned eternity and how I had times of near panic when I thought of something never ending. “Eternity is like a circle that is not complete,” I told him. “It’s unsettling to me. Eternity sucks.”

David said he had never heard those two words in the same sentence, but he was intrigued by my thoughts, however incomplete they were. Fortunately Joan was there and came to my rescue. She said, “Don’t think of eternity as an incomplete circle. Think of it as an unbroken circle.” That helped. I was grateful for the wisdom of my roommate. 

When it was my Sunday to be grateful, I told the congregation about my conversation with David and how eternity was a bit scary because it never ended and seemed a bit disturbing to me. I went on to tell them about my parents. 

My mom and dad were both believers. Neither of them were overly expressive about their faith or spiritual things, but they attended church, they prayed, they lived lives of service and tried to be like Jesus. My mom died when she was 88. At that time, my dad was 90 and he lived for five more years. Covid hit during those years and Dad was a bit lonely in a retirement facility that insisted on frequent stints of isolation. It was hard on my dad to live like that, but he made the most of it. 

When Clarence Baker was 95 years old, we knew he was close to dying. We also knew he was ready. His siblings were all gone. His close friends had died. He was sick of being cooped up in that room. He was in New Jersey and I was in California, so we didn’t have the chance to see each other very often. I made phone calls on Sunday afternoons, though neither of us were much for phones. Our calls were usually brief and it helped when I made a few notes on a card before calling so I could keep the conversation going. 

“Dad, how do you feel about dying?” One week I thought we’d get right down to business. I followed up. “Are you scared? Maybe a little nervous? How are you doing?”

I never anticipated his answer. “No, Lar. I’m not afraid to die. And I’m not nervous at all.” He hesitated a bit, giving his next words some thought. “I guess, I’m mostly curious.” 

Who isn’t? 

What a perfect answer.

The conversation made me grateful. I shared with the congregation that I was grateful for the assurance I have of eternal life. The resurrection and ascension of Jesus assures me, like it did my dad, that I will also rise from the grave. The Bible gives us enough information to assure us of God’s love, His grace, our salvation, and an eternity spent with Him. 

But the Bible doesn’t tell us everything. There are lots of questions. It’s probably good that we don’t know everything about life after death; we would probably all want to get there sooner. But I’m grateful for unanswered questions, too. I’m grateful for the anticipation, for the waiting, for the wrapped gift that awaits me. 

I’m not scared. I’m not nervous. I’m grateful for what’s ahead. And I’m very curious.