An exploration of God, time, creation, and the possibility that everything is connected.
A word of caution: This is not a sermon, a scientific paper, or an attempt to establish some new theological doctrine. It’s simply an invitation to spend a few minutes inside my head. You’ve been warned.
It Started With a VCR
When I was younger, I had a habit of taking things apart to see how they worked. One of those things was a VCR.
For those too young to remember, a VCR was a marvelous piece of technology that allowed us to watch movies on rectangular plastic objects called videotapes. Occasionally, it also ate those tapes, requiring a degree of mechanical intervention that wasn’t covered in the owner’s manual.
Naturally, I wanted to know what made the thing work. So I took it apart. Getting it apart wasn’t particularly difficult. Putting it back together was another matter entirely. But I did get it back together, and it worked.
What I didn’t realize at the time was that I was developing a way of thinking that would follow me throughout my life. I don’t simply want to know that something works. I want to understand why it works, what makes it work, and how its individual components interact.
One question leads to another. One answer produces another question. Eventually, the pieces begin connecting. And somewhere along the way, I went from taking apart a VCR to trying to understand the universe. Unfortunately, the universe doesn’t have screws.
Everything Has a Connection
I’ve always approached things through cause and effect. Something happens. What caused it? That cause produces an effect. What does that effect produce? And what caused the original cause? Follow that process long enough, and you begin recognizing connections between subjects that initially seem completely unrelated.
To me, theology, physics, human behavior, history, and philosophy aren’t necessarily separate subjects. They’re different ways of examining the same existence. I believe God is intentional. He doesn’t wake up one morning, look around heaven, and decide He needs something to occupy His afternoon.
God doesn’t improvise. He doesn’t discover problems He didn’t anticipate. He doesn’t develop emergency solutions because something happened that caught Him by surprise. If God is omniscient, then He has always known everything that would happen. Every cause. Every effect. Every decision. Every consequence.
That doesn’t mean I understand every reason behind every event. Far from it. But I believe there’s a purpose behind creation, and that purpose didn’t begin when humanity appeared. Which brings me to a question I’ve spent considerable time contemplating.
What Was There Before the Beginning?
Genesis 1:1 states: “In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.” I’ve always found that opening statement fascinating. Consider what it introduces.
Time: In the beginning.
Space: The heaven.
Matter: The earth.
Three fundamental components of our physical existence, introduced in the opening verse of Scripture.
Now, I’m not suggesting Moses was writing a physics textbook. Genesis wasn’t written to explain Einstein’s theories thousands of years before Einstein existed. But I do find the relationship interesting. Modern physics describes a universe in which space and time are intimately connected. Matter and energy interact within that framework. And Genesis begins by declaring that God created the heavens and the earth.
Here’s where my thinking begins wandering into territory that occasionally causes people to look at me as though I’ve arrived from another planet. If God created time, then God cannot depend upon time for His existence. If God created space, then God cannot be confined to space. And if God created matter, then His existence cannot depend upon matter. God is eternal.
We humans have a relatively easy time imagining something that never ends. We struggle considerably more with imagining something that never began. Everything in our experience has a beginning. Except, according to Scripture, God.
He didn’t come from somewhere. He wasn’t created by something else. He simply is. And if God created the framework within which we experience existence, why should we assume that His experience of existence is identical to ours?
What If Time Isn’t What We Think It Is?
Here’s where science becomes particularly interesting to me. Einstein demonstrated that time isn’t absolute. Gravity affects the passage of time. So does relative motion. A clock operating in one gravitational environment can accumulate a different amount of elapsed time than a clock operating in another. This isn’t science fiction. It’s measurable physics.
Near a black hole, gravitational time dilation becomes extreme. To a distant observer, processes near the event horizon appear increasingly slowed. That doesn’t mean time actually stops for someone approaching the black hole. Their own clock continues operating normally. But it demonstrates something remarkable.
Time is real, yet the amount of time experienced isn’t necessarily the same for every observer.
Now consider the theological implications. If time behaves differently under different physical conditions within our universe, why should we automatically assume that heaven operates according to the same temporal conditions as Earth?
I’m not suggesting heaven exists inside a black hole. Nor am I suggesting that Einstein proved the existence of God. I’m simply asking whether our understanding of time might be considerably more limited than we realize. And that question leads me back to Scripture.
A Day Is as a Thousand Years
Second Peter 3:8 tells us: “One day is with the Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day.” Psalm 90:4 expresses a similar comparison.
I understand that these passages emphasize God’s relationship to time rather than explicitly providing a mathematical conversion formula. Nevertheless, I’ve long believed there may be a prophetic significance to the thousand-year-day relationship.
My understanding of biblical history follows a seven-thousand-year framework. The Creationist ideology. Approximately four thousand years from creation to Christ. Approximately two thousand years representing the Church Age. And then the thousand-year millennial reign of Christ, corresponding to the seventh-day Sabbath rest.
Six days of labor. One day of rest. Six thousand years of human history. One thousand years of millennial rest. This interpretation isn’t unique to me. Variations of it appeared among early Christian writers. And while I hold firmly to this general understanding, I recognize that biblical chronology and prophetic interpretation involve questions that sincere Christians answer differently.
But the framework raises another intriguing possibility. What if the thousand-year comparison offers an illustration of how differently time might be experienced in heaven? Let’s do some hypothetical mathematics. If one heavenly day corresponded to one thousand earthly years, then:
- One heavenly hour would equal approximately 41.7 earthly years.
- One heavenly minute would equal approximately 254 earthly days.
- One heavenly second would equal approximately 4.2 earthly days.
Again, I’m not claiming Scripture establishes these as literal conversion rates. I’m exploring a possibility. And that possibility once helped me offer comfort to someone who was grieving.
I’ll Be Right Behind You
A friend of mine lost a loved one. When someone we love dies, one of the most difficult things about grief is the separation. We count the days. Then the months. Then the years. And sometimes we wonder whether those who have gone before us are waiting, missing us, or wondering when we’ll arrive. I shared a thought with her.
What if time in heaven passes differently from time on Earth? What if the years we spend missing someone amount to only moments from their perspective? Using the hypothetical thousand-year-day comparison, one earthly year would represent approximately two and a half heavenly minutes. Ten years would represent roughly twenty-four minutes.
Imagine spending the remainder of your earthly life missing someone, only to discover that, from their perspective, you arrived shortly after they did. What if the reunion feels less like an eternity of separation and more like someone walking into the room just behind you? I cannot prove that’s how heaven works.
Scripture doesn’t tell us precisely how departed believers experience time. But it is a possibility I find comforting.
Perhaps the waiting is long for those who remain, but remarkably brief for those who have gone ahead. And that brings me to another interesting passage.
Thirty Minutes of Silence
Revelation 8:1 describes something unusual. “And when he had opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven about the space of half an hour.” Thirty minutes.
An extraordinarily specific observation in a book filled with prophetic imagery. John received Revelation while on the island of Patmos. Yet Revelation 4 describes him being in the Spirit and witnessing the heavenly throne room. John was a human being experiencing a spiritual vision. He understood time as humans understand time. Minutes. Hours. Days.
But was the reality he witnessed necessarily operating according to the same temporal framework he knew on Earth? We don’t know. And that’s what makes the question interesting. Under my hypothetical thousand-year-day calculation, thirty heavenly minutes would correspond to approximately twenty years and ten months on Earth.
Does that mean the silence in Revelation lasted nearly twenty-one earthly years? Not necessarily. John may simply have been describing approximately thirty minutes as he perceived them. Revelation doesn’t provide a conversion formula. But the passage raises an intriguing question about the relationship between human perception and spiritual reality.
John was describing something beyond ordinary human experience using the only language and measurements available to him. And perhaps that’s something we should remember whenever we attempt to describe eternity. We’re trying to explain a reality we haven’t experienced using concepts developed within the reality we know.
Why Did God Create Humanity?
Now we’re going to take another turn. Stay with me. I’ve asked other pastors a question over the years. Why did God create humanity? One common answer is that God wanted a relationship with us. I understand that answer. But it has never completely satisfied my curiosity. Why?
Because God didn’t need us. God was already complete. He wasn’t lonely. He wasn’t lacking companionship. He wasn’t searching for something to make His existence meaningful. Acts 17:25 tells us that God is not served by human hands as though He needed anything.
So I’ve wondered whether humanity’s creation served a purpose extending beyond humanity itself. And this is where my personal hypothesis enters. I believe the rebellion of Lucifer and the fallen angels may be connected to God’s purpose in creating humanity.
Consider the possibility. God eternally knew He would create angels. He knew some would rebel. He knew the consequences of that rebellion. He knew He would create the physical universe. He knew humanity would sin. And He knew redemption would come through Jesus Christ. None of this surprised Him. None of it required God to revise His plans.
What if humanity’s creation was part of God’s eternal answer to the rebellion of Satan?
What if human beings, given the ability to choose, would demonstrate something about God’s character, authority, justice, mercy, and love before the spiritual creation? Ephesians 3:10 describes God’s wisdom being made known through the Church to principalities and powers in heavenly places.
First Peter 1:12 describes angels desiring to look into matters concerning salvation. Those passages don’t prove my hypothesis. But they do indicate that God’s work through humanity has significance extending beyond humanity. There’s a heavenly audience.
And perhaps the relationship between angelic rebellion, human freedom, and redemption is more interconnected than we ordinarily consider. I don’t claim to know precisely when Lucifer rebelled or whether that rebellion preceded the creation described in Genesis. Scripture doesn’t provide a complete chronology of those events.
But I do believe God’s eternal purpose encompasses all of them. And I wonder whether we’re sometimes looking at individual events without recognizing the larger picture.
Science Doesn’t Frighten My Faith
Something else I’ve never understood is the assumption that science and faith must be enemies. Some people attempt to use scientific discoveries to argue against God’s existence. Others become uncomfortable with scientific discoveries because they fear those discoveries might challenge their interpretation of Scripture.
I don’t see the need for either reaction. If God created the universe, then the laws governing that universe are part of His creation. Gravity doesn’t exist independently of God. Neither does time. Neither does matter. Neither does energy. From my perspective, understanding the mechanisms of creation doesn’t diminish the Creator.
It gives us another opportunity to appreciate the complexity of what He created. Now, I recognize an important distinction. Science investigates the natural world through observation, testing, and evidence. Theology addresses questions concerning God, revelation, purpose, and ultimate meaning. A scientific discovery doesn’t automatically prove a theological conclusion. And we should never manipulate scientific findings to force them into a preferred interpretation of Scripture.
But neither should we assume that scientific discoveries must contradict faith. I believe truth is ultimately consistent. If we understand Scripture correctly and understand the physical universe correctly, I don’t believe genuine truth in one will ultimately contradict genuine truth in the other. Our interpretations, however, can certainly be wrong. Mine included.
That’s why I continue asking questions. I don’t expect science to reach some final discovery that forces everyone to acknowledge God. Human beings can examine the same evidence and reach different philosophical conclusions. Ultimately, I believe God will reveal Himself according to His own purposes.
And that brings us back to something fundamental to my understanding of life. Choice. Faith. And the responsibility each person has for what they believe.
The Puzzle Box
People who know me best will sometimes look at me as though they’re trying to figure out where I came from. I don’t always think the way they think. And I recognize that my explanations can be difficult to follow.
Someone asks a relatively simple question, and before long I’m discussing Genesis, Einstein, black holes, angelic rebellion, prophecy, and the nature of eternity. I can practically see the moment their eyes glaze over. The problem is that, in my mind, these aren’t unrelated subjects. They’re connected.
One question produces another. One possibility leads to another. And before long, I’m looking at something resembling a puzzle box. The individual pieces may seem unrelated when examined separately. But I keep looking for the relationships that connect them. That doesn’t mean every connection I identify is correct. It doesn’t mean every hypothesis I develop will withstand examination. And it certainly doesn’t mean I possess some extraordinary knowledge unavailable to everyone else.
It simply means I have difficulty looking at something without wondering what caused it, why it exists, and how it relates to everything around it. I suppose that’s the same curiosity that led me to disassemble a perfectly functional VCR. The difference is that the VCR eventually went back together. The universe is proving somewhat more complicated.
Someday, I’ll Ask the Manufacturer
Here’s what I find reassuring about all of this. I don’t have to understand everything. I don’t have to explain every mystery. And I don’t have to prove every hypothesis. My faith in God doesn’t depend upon my ability to construct a perfect explanation of creation. I believe God exists. I believe He created everything. I believe He is eternal, omniscient, and purposeful. And I believe His creation reflects an intentional design, even when I cannot fully understand that design.
The rest is my attempt to connect the pieces. Perhaps some of my conclusions are correct. Perhaps others are completely wrong. I’m comfortable acknowledging both possibilities. Because I believe there will come a day when the questions that have occupied my thoughts throughout this life will finally have answers.
And I suspect some of those answers will be considerably different from anything I imagined. Until then, I’ll continue examining the pieces. I’ll continue asking why. I’ll continue wondering how time, creation, eternity, and God’s purposes fit together. And I’ll continue believing that there’s a reason behind the existence we’re privileged to experience.
After all, when I was a kid, I took apart a VCR because I wanted to understand how it worked. Today, I’m trying to understand the universe.
And someday, I hope to have the opportunity to ask the Manufacturer a few questions.
I just hope He has a little time. Then again, considering everything we’ve discussed, perhaps time won’t be an issue.
These reflections represent my personal theological beliefs, interpretations, and hypotheses. They are offered to encourage curiosity, thoughtful discussion, and exploration—not to establish doctrine or suggest that speculative conclusions carry the authority of Scripture.
You Get to Choose.
