Among the strangest of all phenomena is this, that life’s most important question is rarely asked. Even among the unregenerate, it would seem that circumstances should make them stop and ask themselves the question. But that there should be comparative silence in the Christian Church on so important a matter is a staggering enigma!
The question is: “Where will you spend eternity?”
In view of the fact that the Church has the answer, why do we so rarely hear this question asked us from the pulpit?
We are confronted with the inevitability of death, with its visible effect all around us—in the slowly moving funeral processions, in the newspaper obituary notices, in the stories of violence or the slow toll of disease recounted for us daily. Why, then, is the question of questions so infrequently heard?
Is it because the query is foolish? Only to those whose hearts are insensitive to the eternal.
Trivial? Only to those who live in a realm little removed from the lower animals.
Unimportant? Only to those who fail to understand man and his need of God’s redeeming love.
Rejected as lacking relevance? Yes, but only by those who have believed “another gospel,” who ignore the clear teachings of Holy Scripture, and who have envisioned for themselves and for others a man-made device to bridge the chasm that Abraham spoke of in our Lord’s parable: “Beside all this, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed: so that they which would pass from hence to you cannot; neither can they pass to us, that would come from thence.”
Let us suppose that from every pulpit in America there should come a message on the same day, “Where Will You Spend Eternity?” What a shock might result, what consternation in some minds, what searching for the answer on the part of many!
The calendar of every denomination is filled with different “days.” Almost every Sunday commemorates some anniversary, the stressing of a particular cause, even the glorification and undergirding of some secular movements.
What would happen if in many sermons during the year the all-important question was raised, even if only by inference?
Some years ago I had the first of two coronary episodes. It was an experience for which I am deeply thankful. Confronted then (and constantly since) with the most important of all questions, I knew where I would spend eternity, and I knew who had made this possible.
When one is face to face with the reality and inevitability of death, things should assume their proper perspective, for it is this world that distorts and the next that brings this life and eternity into focus. Here we are confronted with the vital versus the trivial, the spirit versus the flesh, the things that are unseen versus the tawdry things that are seen.
Again it may be asked why, in view of the eternal import of this matter, so little is ever said about it. Even more amazing is the somber fact that within the Christian Church the overwhelming emphasis is on secondary things, on programs that can never be properly implemented until participants have met the issue of the eternal.
One of the most familiar passages in the New Testament is our Lord’s parable of the Prodigal. Suppose that in the case of the Prodigal Son the emphasis had been on renovating the “far country,” on disinfecting and perfuming the swine, on providing a banquet for the wayward boy, or on making him comfortable and happy where he was?
That is what today’s church often tries to do. Rather than working to bring the sinner back to his Heavenly Father through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ, we spend much time trying to make him comfortable and happy in a dying world order—yes, and in trying to make him act like a Christian.
This unfortunate situation is the result of ignorance, unbelief, neglect, or personal timidity. Why should we hesitate to ask an unsaved friend or acquaintance: “Where will you spend eternity?” Perhaps we hesitate because we ourselves have a lingering uncertainty about it.
Once the question is settled, all other things begin to fall into their rightful place. The fear of death is no longer with us. Christ becomes a living reality, and we can look forward with joy to being in his presence. Prayer becomes a matter of supreme practicality, a form of spiritual respiration that diffuses into our hearts the oxygen of divine companionship. The Bible becomes a living Book to us that speaks to our hearts and minds and makes us sensitive to God’s love, will, and purpose.
In addition, those persons with whom we come in daily contact realize that we have a hope from which nothing can separate us. Paul’s affirmation becomes a living reality, and we know all things are working together for our good because we love God and are his.
One of the most pitiful sights I ever saw was an old man, on the verge of death, studying and gloating over a long list of stocks and bonds that he owned and commenting gleefully on their increase in value since he had first purchased them.
“How much did he leave?” is a question we frequently hear. There is only one answer—“All”—but still we are tempted to evaluate men by their wealth and remember them by their achievements.
The Christian approach is as different as death from life. Christ came to give eternal life to all who believe in him. Even success in a good cause is secondary. Some of our Lord’s disciples returned from a missionary journey gloating over the fact that evil spirits were subject to them through his name. To the exuberant disciples our Lord replied: “Notwithstanding in this rejoice not, that the spirits are subject unto you; but rather rejoice, because your names are written in heaven.”
A Christian should not set his mind on eternity to the point that he forgets or ignores his earthly duties. But the gateway to Christianity is the narrow door of faith in the Son of God, and the vital question is never answered rightly until we know him whom to know is life eternal.
