A little group of enthusiasts in
Worcester was putting on a display of medieval games, open to
the public. I went along out of curiosity and asked a string of
interested questions about the lives of people in those far-off days.
“Do remember,” I was informed, “that these were people just
like us.”
They meant me to go away thinking that
our forebears were not so very different in their outlook on life.
They might have fewer conveniences and the business of existing might
have been more of a daily struggle. Yet, for all that, we are part of
the same human family and they would have had feelings and responses
that we would recognise today.
Well, up to a point. Of course we have
a common humanity, but – just to take two topics among many – how
can we possibly enter into the mindset of those whose average
lifespan was barely half what it is today, and who lived with death
as a daily reality? And then how can we think like those for whom the
unseen spirit world, the domain of the after-life, was not just the
stuff of fantasy video games but a driver of the most intimate
details of their domestic routines? How did they feel about that:
were they prisoners of an invisible realm? Or did they in some way
experience a richness we can never now realise?
Moses in Psalm 90 verse 12 calls on God
to “teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom”
(ESV). If you expect a long life, you are not inclined to notch up
each day as one more day lent, and so may miss the wisdom that can be
derived from contemplating this.
November is a month for pondering the
brevity of life. During it, there falls the Remembrance season. (That
fact makes this time of year particularly poignant for me. My mother
died between Remembrance Sunday and Remembrance Day in 1997.) This
current November we mark the 50th anniversary of the day
when President John F Kennedy was gunned down. His time in office
held huge promise and brought high hopes – all crushed in an
instant of time.
Time, like an ever-rolling stream,
bears all its sons away;
they fly forgotten, as a dream
dies at the opening day.
Isaac Watts, 1674-1748
Borne away and forgotten most mortals
surely are – coming from an unseen world, returning to an unseen
world, out of human sight and generally speaking out of human mind.
But this is not the case in the mind of God, the Ruler of that unseen
world. He observes the fall of the smallest expiring sparrow. His
word, the Bible, unlocks something of the puzzle of the world beyond
as it relates to humans, both before we were born and after we are
physically dead. That world is laden with blessing for the believer.
“Blessed be the God and Father of our
Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual
blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before
the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless
before him. In love he predestined us for adoption through Jesus
Christ, according to the purpose of his will …” (Ephesians 1:3-5)
“... and raised us up with him and
seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in
the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in
kindness toward us in Christ Jesus” (Ephesians 2:6-7).
To those for whom Jesus Christ is of no
account, the unseen world is a primitive superstition. Yet to others
it is a realm of glorious fulfilment where the Rock of Ages reigns
supreme. So we can move on to the last triumphant verse of Isaac
Watts’ hymn:
O God, our help in ages past,
our hope for years to come,
be Thou our guard while troubles last,
and our eternal home.