My husband is a geologist. He was taught that the earth is billions of years old, a number nowhere to be found in the Bible. When we bought our home, the former owners left a few Christian books on the shelves, one specifically addressing the schism between geologists’ timeline and the Bible. I didn’t read it.
It’s not that I don’t have questions, sure I do. Not necessarily about the age of the universe, but about my personal experience. I wonder about my life, how God arranged the details, the things “behind the scenes” that I never knew. I would love to hear the story of how He drew me safely into His love and grace, how He wooed me as I went along my silly way, having to be wooed again and again,
I don’t know if all of my questions will be answered in heaven. I imagine it as an acquired awareness. Surely things will become exquisitely clear living in the blessed company of the Holy Trinity. And surely other things will become irrelevant and I won’t give them a second thought. Like: How old is the earth? What is a “day” to God and how does it compare to this 24 hour day of mine?
I have faith that God illumines and elucidates in just the measure He sees fit, as I wonder, ask and open to His truth. In the meantime, I take comfort in the words Jesus wrote to His disciples, You know the way to the place where I am going. It is through Him, the answers, the wonders and the way.
Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. 1 Corinthians 13:12
Meeting God at the Park 