To All Who Limp in this Life While Leaning into the Next

For centuries, the people of Spain proudly viewed their country and culture as the last frontier. Beyond them, so they thought, was nothing but the vast expanse of endless sea. They were so convinced of this that they imprinted their coins with a picture of the fabled Pillars of Hercules, those two stalwart sentries on either side of the Straits of Gibraltar. Underneath that image they inscribed in Latin ne plus ultra—nothing beyond. The dictum was even inscribed on their maps and eventually became Spain’s national motto. From their perspective, Spain with her famed pillars proudly marked the end of the earth.

Of course, there was only one problem. “In 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue” and discovered the boastful claim—ne plus ultra—was an illusion. The discovery of worlds beyond humbled the Spaniards to the point where they took the little negative “ne” off their coinage. Ne plus ultra (nothing beyond) became plus ultra (more beyond).

When it comes to the subject of death, many live with the perspective of ne plus ultra—nothing beyond. For others, there is the impression that something lies beyond death’s door, but just what that something is remains quite vague. The French physician and humanist Rabelais (1483-1553) once quipped: “I am going to the great perhaps.” The poet Edgar Allen Poe (1809-1849), who was never at a loss for words, simply said, “Rest, shore, no more.” (At least it rhymed!) The famed musician Beethoven (1770-1827) casually joked on his deathbed: “Clap now, my friends, the comedy is done!”

Such statements stand in stark contrast to that of the well-known nineteenth-century evangelist, D. L. Moody, who on his deathbed said, “Earth recedes . . . Heaven opens before me! This is my crowning day!” It is of that “crowning day” that James speaks when he writes, “Blessed [happy] is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him” (James 1:12).

James’ words immediately transport us beyond this life into the plus ultra. He wants to radically transform our myopic earth-bound perspective in the face of suffering into an expansive, expectant, faith-filled assurance of what lies beyond our limited, terrestrial existence. Such a perspective transforms our inevitable limp in this life into an opportunity to lean into God’s precious promises concerning the next life. And this brings hope—hope in our mourning.

Martin Luther once said, “There are only two days on my calendar: Today and that Day!” Since my son’s death, I’ve come to realize in a deeper way that the certainty of “that Day” must influence how I live today. Our son’s premature death has made me more aware of my inevitable death, as well as of the promise of what lies beyond. Moreover, his present life in heaven with Christ inspires me to live my present life on earth for Christ.

Reflecting on the transient character of our earthly existence, Moses reminds us, “For you, a thousand years are as a passing day, as brief as a few night hours” (Psalm 90:4). According to Peter, this fact must not escape our notice: “But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day” (2 Peter 3:8). That is why we should pray every day in the face of suffering: “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:12).

Today, in Valladolid, Spain, is a monument commemorating the discoveries of Columbus. The most striking feature of this memorial is the statue of a lion devouring the first of the three Latin words, “Ne plus ultra.” Jesus Christ, the Son of God, came into this suffering world in order that the ne plus ultra (nothing beyond) of our lives could become plus ultra (more beyond). For unbelievers, death begins the night that has no sunrise; but for Christ followers, death begins the day that has no sunset.