As a Christian, I am supposed to aspire to an eternal “heaven,” a bliss, an unending perfection, right?  I don’t know if anyone really believes in the archetypal harp-and-clouds version, but the 72 virgins variation on the afterlife was quite motivating for some people.

I can tell you right now, I do not want to live forever.  The idea of any kind of eternity seems so exhausting to me.  Even if it were beautiful, 72 degrees F, with endless delicious food and non-awkward socialization and wonderful books and everything else.  That one commercial with 40 black cats peacefuly shedding on white furniture at first seemed like the closest idea possible, but no.  I am just too tired.

I don’t want to be reincarnated either, or to have another chance to right any wrongs (even being mean to my Japanese roommate after college.  I still feel bad about it, though, but it happened, and other people were way meaner to me in this life with no making of amends; life went on.).

I just want to be finally done.  I want to fall asleep in Jesus’ loving arms, and hear him say, “I cared about you always, no matter what you ever did; you did the best you could, and I forgive the rest.”  And that would be it.  No forever and ever, amen.  That would be it.

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