Daydreams of the city square

I suspect that we underestimate the burden of sin on our relationships with one another. Some aspects of this burden are obvious; when we are in seasons of strife with brothers and sisters in Christ, the weight of sin is undeniable. Bitterness between brothers drags us down in our fellowship with God, it robs us of sleep and dampens our delight in the work God has given us to do.

But sin weighs down our relationships with others even when we are not experiencing strife. Even the closest and most intimate relationships are hindered by the effects of sin in our bodies and in this fallen creation. These are not so obvious to us—in fact, we would take them for granted as “normal” or “natural” if it were not for the Bible’s promises of extreme, unending, perfect, intimate fellowship with one another in the new creation.

For example, we all get tired. In spite of our best efforts to push through physical exhaustion for the joy of fellowship, eventually our weak and dying bodies demand sleep. Because we are frail and fallen and cannot go without sleep, we must end our time together to close our eyes and stop our mouths. I once stayed up until 3:00 in the morning with a group of other women, fervently searching the Scriptures together. But I paid for it.

However, that indulgence was a taste of the coming new creation. In that place of eternal day, of undying bodies, and of unwavering delight in God, we can talk as long as we want, until our souls are satisfied, because our fallen flesh will not drag us away.

We also get sick. Sickness alienates us from one another as we try to prevent the spread of germs and stay home, away from each other, to rest and heal. “Don’t get too close—I’m sick,” we tell those we love. “I’m not really up for a visit today.” Sickness hinders our fruitfulness, sucks the life out of us, and makes us unable to really care about much of anything. In the new creation, there will be no reason to avoid one another, no fear of hurting one another, nothing to keep us apart.

Death, of course, is the ultimate burden of sin which ends even the most intimate of relationships. When someone we love dies, there is no more being together, no more delighting in one another. All of that ends at death. Death ends relationships.

But not forever.

The gospel is in effect all over the world. Ephesians holds up the church—more precisely, the church’s unity—as the ultimate proof of the wisdom and victory of the gospel to the powers in the heavenly realms. Yet we see this victory, this unity, dimly now, because it is now still veiled by our flesh. Like a radiant light that shines inside a dusty clay pot, the love and fellowship that Christ is making new among us is beyond our flesh’s capacity to fully reveal. So why doesn’t God give us new flesh along with our new spirit so that we can perfectly embody the gospel?

The answer is, he will. For now, it is his pleasure that we learn the obedience of love in our weak flesh, just as Christ did. But in our future is the promise of perfect fellowship, not only with God, but with one another. Just as we underestimate the burden of sin on our relationships now, I think we also underestimate our own desire for intimacy with one another and the intense satisfaction that fellowship will bring, when sin and death are not constantly getting in the way. Only God knows how much joy is in store for us.

God will provide all the time and resources we need in the new creation to build fellowship together as his children. Never-ending years and infinitely charged energy in our bodies will allow us to become fully acquainted with every one of our spiritual siblings. Imagine the stories we will hear! Imagine the delight of hearing the gospel from the perspective of an Ancient Israelite, a martyr of the Middle Ages, a tribal native from South America. Part of Christ’s own great joy in the new creation, I believe, will be to sit back and watch all of his brothers and sisters enjoying one another for unending hours, reunited in joy to those who had once been dead, working together in love for his glory, never tiring of one another, never divided, never parted. The love we will share with one another then—and the unity that we strive for now, in spite of our fallen, selfish, tired flesh—this is the outcome of his labor and the perfect vindication of his wisdom and power to the rulers in the heavenly realms.