The Everlasting Kingdom

When I came to be born, my parents placed my cradle atop the ancient wooden table that I might see out the window as they worked. For the first year of my life, that window was like a frame through which I watched the world: two maple saplings on either side of the window swayed in the slightest breeze, my parents labored bent over in the field, and the wide river beyond the field flowed swiftly past as it sparkled in the sun. Beyond the river, in the craggy mountaintops of The Everlasting Kingdom, lay the Glittering Palace.

Even as a young child I perceived that everything on our side of the river had clear outlines and distinct colors while The Everlasting Kingdom was a blur of gray rock, golden towers, pearlescent turrets, and precious gems on spires that reached beyond the clouds.

When my parents put down their rake and hoe to sit with me for a lunch of bread, dried wild fruit, and tomatoes or squash from our field, they would point to the enigmatic brilliance on the other side of the river and speak of our true home. Our true home won’t require the toiling we endure here. In our true home abides only love and peace; no fear, pain, or sorrow is held within its golden gates. Our hovel here is not our true home; that – they’d point, smiling, across the water – is where we shall live for each and every tomorrow, without end.

“Have you been there?” I asked once.

“No,” they replied. “But our King is there. And He has written us letters telling us what He and His Kingdom are like. If we believe what He says, and abide by His good laws, then we will see it for ourselves one day and forever.”

At night as we’d sit by the fire, Father would read these letters which were collected in the Book of the King. The Book told of the King’s love for His people, His many sacrifices and acts to win them over, and how His people were to live.

One cool autumn day, Min met me under the oak tree which grew on the border of her family’s field and ours. Leaves the color of sunshine and freshly plowed soil drifted lazily down upon us as we braided the long stems of poppies and spoke of our years ahead.

“I’m going to marry Johann the governor’s son and move into his big house, eat gobs of delicacies, and wear fine clothes every day. I’ll even wear fancy dresses to bed!” Min said, holding out her long, faded skirt as if it were a satin gown worthy of showing off.

I laughed and put a braided crimson crown upon her head. “And I will marry the miller’s son and move into his big house, eat all the berry pie I want, and wear ten purple silk sashes in my hair at once!”

We giggled and lay back on a bed of leaves and grass, looking up at the dazzling blue sky through the half-naked branches of the oak.

“We must make the most of this life,” she said suddenly, leaning up onto one elbow, “for it is all we have.”

At first I laughed. But when I saw that her young, smooth face was serious, I grew solemn, too. “No, my friend. You know what the Book of the King says. This life will be short, and hard. This life is not about chasing our pleasures and whims. It’s about serving the King no matter how hard the task becomes. And when we are finished with this life, we gain entry into The Everlasting Kingdom! There, it will all have been worth it.”

Min gazed across the river through squinted eyes, then looked at me. “I’ll never understand why your family believes that hogwash. What we see over there is just a mirage. It’s not real. It’s insanity to fashion your life around something that doesn’t exist. Live for happiness, live for pleasure, live for yourself. We work so horribly hard – we deserve it!”

We were nine years of age that day. I watched as a bee meandered across Min’s floral skirt, flitting from printed flower to printed flower, trying to collect nectar where nectar did not exist. Was I like that bee? Was I looking at The Everlasting Kingdom like the bee looked at the flowers, expecting something beautiful, wonderful, and life-giving to flow out when in reality no such source existed?

No, I was sure The Everlasting Kingdom was real. The Book of the King contained real letters from the real King. I knew without a doubt, like the bee which had suddenly discovered a patch of clover and began siphoning sweet nectar, that the joy, the peace, the purpose that I had already found in my short life had its source in something very real. My duty was to make Min believe it.

When I came to be married, my husband and I worked the fields my parents bequeathed to me. We toiled in the sun and the cold, the wind and the rain. Our meals came from our land. I only ate pies when the wild bushes brought forth blueberries and strawberries in their season.

I did not own a single ribbon of purple – or any hue; my hair was tied up with a spare strand of thread from which our clothes were woven. I rested less, ate less, and dressed less prodigally than my nine-year-old self imagined my adult self would.

Each morning I gently placed my son in his cradle atop the ancient wooden table so he could see out of the window as Nathan and I plowed, planted, watered, tended, and harvested. The maple saplings on either side of the window had grown taller than the house.

By the fire each night Nathan read aloud from the Book of the King. Love the King. Love others. Undertake no unwholesome or selfish activity. Live worthy of being a future and eternal citizen of The Everlasting Kingdom. If you find yourself living in contradiction to these statutes, immediately repent and return to them.

Min forbad my son from all mention of The Everlasting Kingdom in her son’s presence. “It’s wicked,” she’d say, “and it’s made-up.” I had once asked her with sincerity, “How can something that doesn’t exist be wicked?” She clicked her tongue in repulsion and called for her son who had been playing marbles with my son under the enormous oak that straddled our two fields.

Years passed. Nathan, Theo, and I spent our days bent over in the fields, occasionally straightening ourselves upright and shielding our eyes from the blaze of the sun to gaze into the distance. The sight of The Kingdom, and the words of love that emanated from the King’s heart over the distance of forests and fields, brought a peace and hope to our days that nothing this side of the river could bring. Through sickness, labor, exhaustion, drought, and floods, what kept our spirits brimming with joy and laughter was the anticipation of knowing the King would call us to his Kingdom once our days on earth were completed.

Min’s husband fell ill. Nathan and Theo worked Min’s family’s field while I prepared meals and canned their harvested crops for the coming winter. Min cried in gratitude for what she called our extravagantkindness. I opened the Book of the King and read to her the letter wherein the King tells of his immense and unending love for those who make themselves His subjects: once when a terrible beast threatened to destroy the entire world, He sent His Son to do battle. Both the beast and the Son died.

“That is extravagant kindness, Min. We try only to emulate our good King.”

She scoffed weakly, “He’s imaginary. His Book has never made any difference in my life.”

I laid my hand on hers. “It will if you let it.”

She shook her head and said quietly, “It’s all a mirage.”

“Min, would you find hope today if you knew John would be healed tomorrow?”

She looked at me with bright, expectant eyes as though I really could cure her husband in an instant. “Yes!”

I nodded. “The King never promises us tomorrow. We know this life will be hard. But He does promise us eternity – in His Kingdom, forever without pain. That should afford more hope than knowing only tomorrow is promised.”

She gazed out the window in the direction of the Glittering Palace nestled among the rocky mountaintops. “I wish I had your faith.”

“You don’t have to wish. It’s yours for the taking.”

When I came to old age, Theo put the bed next to the window so Nathan and I could look out as he and his wife worked the fields. The maple saplings of my youth had grown to immensity, bringing cool shade to cover our crumbling little cottage.

We had no money in our pockets, no more clothes than what we wore on our backs, and I never did get to wear a silk ribbon in my hair. But tears rolled down my creased and weathered face as I realize I’d had a good little life – and that Nathan and I would soon embark on our journey to The Everlasting Kingdom, and Theo, his wife, and their child would one day join us there.

We had all become – freely and free of charge – subjects of the King. The King and His Kingdom had been the goal and hope of every part of our entire lives, and we knew without a doubt that He would call us to Him when our bodies lay down for the last time and our souls rose to begin anew.

One day Theo brought a letter from Min. Dear friend, I must bid you goodbye. I am on my death bed as are you. As I look over my life, I conclude that it was all for nothing – the toil, the suffering, the utter absence of comforts, the pursuit of pleasure to no avail. We worked so horribly hard, and for nothing whatsoever. My last hours are the same as the whole of my life: dismal and wasted. As for your mirage, has it brought you comfort? It seems that it has, for during all these years of privation, I beheld in your face a contentedness I sought for but never achieved. May it bring you peace now, as we lay dying. Yours, Min.

Later that night, by the light of the last moon I ever was to see, my beloved Theo delivered my letter to Min. Dearest friend, it is true that when viewed from the outside our lives were not very different – the toil, the suffering, the privation. But if you had had the chance to peer into my heart, you would have seen it full to the brim, beating every moment for others: for you, for Nathan, for Theo and his wife and child, and most of all for the King. I knew that my life on this side of the river was to be short and hard, but that my life in The Everlasting Kingdom in the presence the King was to be full of every good thing. I can say with utter sincerity that my life was full of joy, purpose, and hope. The King’s realm is not a mirage. It is an oasis. And it is waiting for me and for all who have served our loving King. Turn to Him. It is never too late so long as you are breathing. With true love, your neighbor.

When I came to die, I was eager to go. I embraced with weak arms the dear loved ones standing, sitting, and lying around me as we cried joyfully and told one another we’d see each other soon enough.

My heart, my lungs, and my mind finally ceased their toil while simultaneously my soul began to rise. It flew in an instant out the window, over the field in which I’d labored for so long, over the river and fields and forests beyond, through an opulent gate of pearl, down streets of splendid golden cobblestones, between enormous open doors encrusted with gemstones, and settled at once at the foot of an immense throne.

I looked around for a brief moment at the many pilgrims like myself, and winged creatures, who thronged the royal court. On each pilgrim’s head was a golden crown laden with brilliant jewels. I reached up and felt the crown atop my own head, and glanced down to see, woven into the braid draped over my shoulder, a fine purple ribbon.

My eyes were drawn irresistibly to the King. His countenance was like the sun itself – warm and astonishingly radiant – and His smile was the most compassionate, love-filled expression I have ever beheld. His Son, the one who slayed the beast – was sitting at the King’s side – alive! He rose from His throne to descend the steps, grinning at me all the while, and the glowing arm He put around my shoulders sent a shock of searing affection through my new, perfect, pain-free body. The hope, peace, joy, love, and contentment I’d experienced before were now brought to complete fruition.

“Well done, my good and faithful servant.” The Son’s words were spoken in a voice full of delight and satisfaction. “Come share my happiness and find rest for your weary soul.”

The assembly, their eyes on the Son and me, roared with applause and shouts of joy.

I was home.