The gift of an end

I was scrolling on my social media feed yesterday when something very ordinary happened: my feed stalled.

Just for a second, my phone stopped loading. That tiny interruption was enough to bring me back to reality. I looked at the screen and realized I had been scrolling for quite some time....eek. Thankful for the disruption, I put my phone down. But that moment made me think.

I kept scrolling because the feed was endless. There had been no end. No indication of a finish, so I kept going.

It made me wonder if having an end or a finish line is a kind of mercy. Given an endless supply of something I enjoy, it seems like I will continue to do it.

Social media is an obvious example. But it isn't the only one.

When having certain foods I enjoy, I tend to eat more than what my body actually needs. I shudder to think of the implications to my health if I was incapable of feeling full (the 'end' signal that stops me from eating).

If I don't establish an end (read: boundaries) around my time, my attention, my work, or my commitments, I keep saying yes until I burnout.

It seems like good things without limits can become destructive things. This is where wisdom becomes so important. Wisdom helps me draw the line. It helps me recognize that more isn't automatically better. It teaches me that abundance without restraint isn't necessarily freedom. It shows me that an ending can be merciful.

Which brings me, rather unexpectedly, to reflect on the first few pages of Genesis.

After Adam and Eve ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, God sent them out of the garden. And then we're told something that has always struck me:

Genesis 3:22

And the Lord God said, “The man has now become like one of us, knowing good and evil. He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever.”

The cherubim were placed at the entrance to guard the way to the tree of life. I've often thought about this event as a tragedy and a consequence of humanity's fall. But I've started thinking about this part differently.

What if being denied access to the tree of life was also an act of mercy?

Humanity had chosen to reject God's wisdom. We had decided that we knew better. And God, in His mercy and wisdom, knew that it would be cruel to allow us to live forever in that fallen condition.

Because, imagine an eternity in which human beings, separated from God's wisdom, continued making choices that harmed themselves and one another. Imagine our selfishness with no end. Our greed with no end. Our pride with no end. Our brokenness with no end.

Death is an enemy. Scripture is very clear about that. But in this particular moment, I can also see something gracious about God putting an end to our earthly lives.

He didn't allow our rebellion to become an everlasting existence by giving our human lives an end.

And yet, wonderfully, that isn't where the story finishes. The Christian hope isn't simply that we die and that's it.

It is that death itself will one day have its own end.

There is another tree in Scripture, another garden, another picture of life without end. Revelation brings us back to the tree of life, and this time the way is open. The difference is that we are no longer talking about humanity trying to grasp immortality on our own terms. We are talking about life restored under the reign of Christ.

Life without end, but not life without wisdom. Eternity, but eternity with God. Abundance, but abundance within His good order.

But until Jesus comes again and redeems creation, perhaps we need the grace of an end.

Until that day, I think I'm going to submit to God's wisdom and learn, with His help, to recognize when enough is enough.