In our efforts to live faithfully as disciples of Christ in the here and now, we often lose sight of the work in store for us when the King returns. In Miracles, C. S. Lewis gives us a glimpse of the resurrection life:
There is in our present pilgrim condition plenty of room . . . for abstinence and renunciation and mortifying our natural desires. But behind all asceticism the thought should be, “Who will trust us with the true wealth if we cannot be trusted even with the wealth that perishes?” Who will trust me with a spiritual body if I cannot control even an earthly body? These small and perishable bodies we now have were given to us as ponies are given to schoolboys. We must learn to manage: not that we may some day be free of horses altogether but that some day we may ride bare-back, confident and rejoicing, those greater mounts, those winged, shining and world-shaking horses which perhaps even now expect us with impatience, pawing and snorting in the King’s stables. Not that the gallop would be of any value unless it were a gallop with the King; but how else—since He has retained His own charger—should we accompany Him? (p. 266)
We do not use ourselves up for the sake of Christ, day in, day out, only to cross over into a state of dull relaxation. We should instead expect to be lifted up in a colorful, quickening breath to experience “true wealth” . . . the exhilaration of newness . . . the comfort of vague familiarity . . . the joy of utter completeness.
This earthly life is not a race to the finish line so much as it is practice in preparation for eternity, when we will know rest to be sure . . . but not inactivity. Get ready for “a gallop with the King!”