When Frodo sailed into the West, never to return to a Middle Earth that was itself slipping away, I got choked up. When Narnia was no more, I felt a longing of regret:
The spreading blackness was not a cloud at all: it was simply emptiness. The black part of the sky was the part in which there were no stars left. All the stars were falling: Aslan had called them home.
As a billion people observe the 40th Earth Day today and think about the noble goal of preserving (and for Christians, stewarding) the planet on which we live and move and have our being, I am thinking about heaven.
There's a reason the Bible promises us a new heaven and a new earth. This world, as seemingly solid and as breathtakingly beautiful as it is, is transient beyond our comprehension. And despite our best (and sometimes misguided) efforts, this pale blue dot in a sea of inky blackness is headed for extinction. That's not a world-denying premillennial eschatological perspective that cannot be verified. It's the latest ...
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