“Dreadful, just dreadful.” That was the succinct response from a good friend of mine when I told her about the hopes and dreams of Cambridge University geneticist Aubrey de Grey who has stated publicly, “The first person to live to be 1,000 years old is certainly alive today …whether they realize it or not, barring accidents and suicide, most people now 40 years or younger can expect to live for centuries.”
This man is bringing together the best minds of biologists, genetic engineers, gerontologists and others to figure out a way to stop the aging process and keep people alive indefinitely. As in, “eternal life.” Seriously. That’s his hope and plan.
As my friend and I discussed the issue, we had similar conclusions: we live in a painful world. While we do have moments of real joy and delight, both of us walk in awareness that most of the world groans for redemption and freedom. Because both of us serve as pastors, I suspect we are particularly aware of sorrows and troubles, yet both of us wondered how anyone could live unaware of them. To want eternity in a world of such pain makes little sense to us.
Of course, should de Grey have his way, clearly it will be the richest of the rich who will take advantage of such technology. Perhaps they are indeed so buffered from normal challenges that they can envision lives of ease and comfort and eternal good looks, good health, good brains, well-formed and perfectly functioning bodies extending century after century. Perhaps.
Apparently, all we need to do is learn to maintain our bodies in the same way we maintain classic cars or historic buildings: keep replacing the parts that wear out and the structure can be indefinitely maintained.
So, once I got past my particular horror of the scenario of numerous very wealthy people living into perfect perpetuity, most than likely served by growing minions of “terminals,” i.e., those who can’t afford the necessary replacement parts, I started thinking more sanely for a moment of the drive for eternal life.
I want eternal life. I want to know that the essential me will find life again after physical death. I want to be able to keep on learning, playing and praying, living and laughing and to continue my journey into the heart of God, to know real, absolute Goodness and Grace.
I do not fear death, but am concerned about the way we die. From what I’ve read about de Grey, his own apprehension about the dying process drives him. He looks at those long, declining years and the deterioration of the self, and says, “Not for me.”
Again, I share his concern, but we part ways on the solution. To defy death appears to defy the nature of the created world. All death can and should be redeemed in resurrection; de Grey may think he can avoid fully the need for that resurrection–and the face-to-face encounter with God that will be required.
I keep thinking of the story in Luke where a very prosperous farmer, whose crops come in exceptionally well one year, decides to build himself a bigger barn rather than share the abundance with others. He does so with the expectation that he will make merry the rest of his life. Shortly after making that decision, God says, “You fool, this night your life is required of you.”
When the time comes that my life is required of me, I really hope that God will not preface those words with “You fool, Christy . . . your wasted life is now required of you.” Instead, as I have often said, I want to hear, “Well done, my good and faithful servant!!!!!” Well done–those are the words to usher me into eternality. I hope I will join the multitudes at that holy moment.
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