The Greatness and Littleness of Human Life

“Our earthly life gives promise of what it does not accomplish. It promises immortality, yet it is mortal. It contains life in death and eternity in time, and it attracts us by beginnings which faith alone brings to an end. I mean, when we take into account the powers with which our souls are gifted as Christians, the very consciousness of these fills us with a certainty that they must last beyond this life. That is in the case of good and holy men, whose present state is to them who know them well an earnest of immortality. The greatness of their gifts, contrasted with their scanty time for exercising them, forces the mind forward to the thought of another life, as almost the necessary counterpart and consequence of this life, and certainly implied in this life, provided there be a righteous governor of the world who does not make men for naught.

The very greatness of our powers makes this life look pitiful; the very pitifulness of this life forces on our thoughts to another; and the prospect of another gives a dignity and value to this life which promises it. Thus, this life is at once great and little, and we rightly condemn it while we exalt its importance.

And, if this life is short, even when longest, from the great disproportion between it and the powers of regenerate man, still more is this the case, of course, where it is cut short and death comes prematurely. Men there are, who, in a single moment of their lives, have shown a superhuman height and majesty of mind which it would take ages for them to employ on its proper objects, and, as it were, to exhaust; and who by such passing flashes, like rays of the sun, and the darting of lightning, give token of their immortality, give token to us that they are but angels in disguise, the elect of God sealed for eternal life and destined to judge the world and to reign with Christ forever. Yet they are suddenly taken away, and we have hardly recognized them when we lose them. Can we believe that they are not removed for higher things elsewhere? This is sometimes said with reference to our intellectual powers, but it is still more true of our moral nature. There is something in moral truth and goodness, in faith, in firmness, in heavenly-mindedness, in meekness, in courage, in loving-kindness, to which this world’s circumstances are quite unequal, for which the longest life is insufficient, which makes the highest opportunities of this world disappointing, which must burst the prison of this world to have its appropriate range. So that when a good man dies, one is led to say, ‘He has not half showed himself; he has had nothing to exercise him; his days are gone like a shadow, and he is withered like the grass.’

Such being the unprofitableness of this life, viewed in itself, it is plain how we should regard it while we go through it. We should remember that it is scarcely more than an accident of our being; that it is no part of ourselves, who are immortal; that we are immortal spirits, independent of time and space, and that this life is but a sort of outward stage on which we act for a time, and which is only sufficient and only intended to answer the purpose of trying whether we will serve God or no. We should consider ourselves to be in this world in no fuller sense than players in any game are in the game, and life to be a sort of dream, as detached and as different from our real eternal existence as a dream differs from waking; a serious dream, indeed, as affording a means of judging us, yet in itself a kind of shadow without substance, a scene set before us, in which we seem to be, and in which it is our duty to act just as if all we saw had a truth and reality, because all that meets us influences us and our destiny.

Let us then thus account for our present state: it is precious to us as revealing to us, amid shadows and figures, the existence and attributes of Almighty God and his elect people. It is precious, because it enables us to hold intercourse with immortal souls who are on their trial as we are. It is momentous, as being the scene and means of our trial. But beyond this it has no claims upon us. ‘Vanity of vanities,’ says the preacher, ‘all is vanity’ (Eccl 1:2). We may be poor or rich, young or old, honored or slighted, and it ought to affect us no more, neither to elate us nor depress us, than if we were actors in a play who know that the characters they represent are not their own, and that though they appear to be superior one to another, to be kings or to be peasants, they are in reality all on one level. The one desire which should move us should be, first of all, that of seeing him face to face who is now hid from us, and next of enjoying eternal and direct communion, in and through him, with our friends around us whom at present we know only through the medium of sense, by precarious and partial channels which give us little insight into their hearts.

These are suitable feelings towards this attractive but deceitful world. What have we to do with its gifts and honors, who, having already been baptized into the world to come, are no longer citizens of this? Why should we be anxious for a long life, or wealth, or credit, or comfort, who know that the next world will be everything which our hearts can wish, and that not in appearance only, but truly and everlastingly? Why should we rest in this world, when it is the token and promise of another? Why should we be content with its surface, instead of appropriating what is stored beneath it? To those who live by faith, everything they see speaks of that future world: the very glories of nature, the sun, moon, and stars, and the richness and beauty of the earth are as types and figures witnessing and teaching the invisible things of God. All that we see is destined one day to burst forth into a heavenly bloom and to be transfigured into immortal glory. Heaven at present is out of sight, but in due time, as snow melts and discovers what it lay upon, so will this visible creation fade away before those greater splendors which are behind it, and on which at present it depends.

These are the thoughts to make us eagerly and devoutly say, ‘Come, Lord Jesus, to end the time of waiting, of darkness, of turbulence, of disputing, of sorrow, of care.’ These are the thoughts to lead us to rejoice in every day and hour that passes, as bringing us nearer the time of his appearing and the termination of sin and misery. May he grant his grace abundantly to us, to make us meet for his presence, that we may not be ashamed before him at his coming! May he grant us the full grace of his ordinances; may he feed us with his choicest gifts; may he expel the poison from our souls; may he wash us clean in his precious blood and give us the fulness of faith, love, and hope, as foretastes of the heavenly portion which he destines for us!”

~John Henry Newman (from Waiting For Christ: Meditations for Advent and Christmas)