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Ad Infinitum
by JD Stark
For Sale



The idea of infinity is hard for the finite to imagine. Not
surprising. Mathematically we can represent it and even use it
in equations. It's beyond us yet useful. But a representation
of an object is not the object itself. We can only use symbols.
We cannot show the thing.

No one on earth has experienced it and, by definition, one
would think that no one will. No one will come and say, "I've
been through eternity, I can tell you what it is." By its'
nature no one can return from enduring it since it is not a
thing to be completed. For us it remains abstract. Even at
that, we commonly use it only in the future tense. To make
something eternal means to allow it to continue from now on,
forever. Actually, eternity covers both directions. Eternity
refers to both no beginning and no end. It seems since we are
confronted with such a monstrous concept we've tried to limit
eternity to just what will happen. We cut it in half (if that's
even possible) and almost begin to understand the portion that
would just continue from where we are. It seems to be about as
much as we want to handle.

The idea of immortality for humans, or continuing from this
point on, is somehow less abstract. We can almost picture
ourselves always being since we can picture ourselves alive
right now. If we exist, we believe we can continue to exist and
we can imagine continuing to exist, ad infinitum.

When speaking about the promise of Heaven and life with God
eternally, we are speaking about eternity in this future tense,
not eternity in its true definition of no beginning and no end.
That act of eternity we leave to only God Himself. We are
promised a place in Heaven for the rest of eternity. It's too
late for us to have the whole of it.

So let's limit it to that much and see if we can get a picture
that helps us understand what we're offered. Being the male,
task oriented, project undertaking type person that I am, the
concept of eternity is best pictured by me as a thing to do.
Now right there I seem to be going against the definition I've
defined, but it's the best figment I can produce. I've pictured
a project as endless as I can imagine and cling to that much
understanding. It's not a monotonous existence nor is it
tormenting. On the contrary, my view of eternity lies in the
hope of eternal life and livelihood. My imagination sees an
eternity of peace and beauty unequaled. My spirit sees how to
realize it. Through faith that is lived out now, I have a
future in the rest of that eternity.

And this image... He awoke again. The bed held him softly in rest so tenderly it
seemed he could forget it was under him, as if he were just
laying in the air. It was like a tiny hand in awe of some
trusting butterfly that had landed on its palm. All it desired
from now on was to remain still and not disturb the beauty it
was graced with. For a moment, he didn't want to disturb the
peace either, but then he remembered what it was he could do

The cabin was simple and perfect. No rooms and nothing
crowded. The bed, the fire, the tool chest. All things were
where they were supposed to be. The floor was one piece of
hard, hand smoothed wood. No seams, no planks. Just a solid
surface to walk on. Walls kept the cabin enclosed without
cutting it off from the outside. Around it all there was some
distant memory of wanting more than what was here. But now the
memory was just salt that made the least seem all the more

There was something to do. Get dressed and comfortable, of
course, but there was a duty outside somewhere. There is a key
to be found. He didn't know why he had to always look for it
after using it so often. It seemed to be all part of it. Find
the key, get the tool, do the job, go to bed knowing everything
is as it should be and always will. The key. On the chest
where it's used is a good place for it, and there it is.

From a distance the tool chest looked dusted with an ancient
glow but up close it sparkled brand new. The key turned over
easily letting the lid lift up from the latch. A sweet breeze
puffed out with the sound of a cloud landing on the ground.
There were the tools. Better said, there were lots of the tool.
They were needles. The small chest now seemed to be bottomless
with the tool. He took the one he had been using for longer
than he could remember. Looking at it he thought that he may
have to chose a new one. That is, if he continued to use this
one as long as he already had. It was just starting to get
dull. A new one will be needed eventually.

With the tool in hand he was ready for his calling. It was
always so refreshing to step out to do the work that was correct
for him to do. He walked with satisfaction to the door, as if
he was already confident that the work would be productive. The
door had no locks nor even a closing latch and took no more than
a reaching out to open.

There was everything. Everything needed for the assignment was
laid out row after row. Tiny cubes were spread out in perfect
spaces on hill after rolling green hill. The horizon oozed over
the edge of the farthest cube and blurred the rest into a white
haze. He knew there were more hills and more cubes and more
cabins on more places with different horizons and hills and
tools and business to be done. That was correct for the job to
be what it was.

One clear path lead down the lone mountain his cabin sat on.
No stones, no pits or patches of weeds. One pure path that lead
to completeness of the job. As he walked down, the tiny cubes
raised up to show their true size. Closer and closer became
larger and larger. Coming nearer revealed growing bigger. What
was tiny now towered. What looked as if it could fit in a
pocket now boomed in size beyond sight from end to end, from
bottom to top. Row upon row of incredible mass beyond reason.
Walking down the path he approached the cube assigned.

One tiny tool, pressed into black and white granite, made one
barely noticeable scratch. When all the tools were dulled and
all the cubes were turned to dust on all the hills, on all the
places, with new cabins and horizons, and all the other places,
with hills and cubes that even he didn't know about, were
fulfilled with his duty, the measure would be made.

Knowing his production was sufficient for the duty, he walked
back up the path, to his cabin on the mountain, ready to be held
again by the loving hand of rest.

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