About ten years ago, my dream was to retire by the age of 40 after earning enough money, move to California in the U.S., earn a Ph.D. in philosophy, and become a professor. I wanted to leave behind a philosophical work that would benefit humanity. The reason for California was that I couldn’t forget the sunlight I experienced during a summer semester at UC Berkeley as an exchange student in college. The reason for philosophy was that I had found great solace in Schopenhauer when my business, which I had invested everything in, collapsed due to a partner’s betrayal.
I thought it was a noble, meaningful, and humanitarian dream. Until three years ago, when I realized it wasn’t. At the time, my personal life was tainted by vanity, so my plans for studying abroad and retiring were naturally extensions of that. The grand plan of becoming a professor and writing a philosophical work to benefit others was, in truth, 80% driven by pride and a desire for self-glorification.
Looking back now, it was all just excrement wrapped in the fancy packaging of a “dream.” But thankfully, God allowed my detestable plans to fall apart at every critical moment. When all my plans crumbled and I was in complete despair, He came to me like spring. When the world felt like a lie, He showed me the one truth. When I lost my reason to live, He gave me a purpose.
Then one day, I suddenly realized that I was writing, just as I had wished ten years ago. My dream had already come true in an infinitely better way. I was allowed to write not for self-glorification or to prove myself, but to testify to the light of truth. This realization even filled me with fear.
Not long after, I realized that my other wish had also come true. The California sunlight I had always dreamed of under the gray skies of Seoul was now enveloping me as I walked through my neighborhood. I could feel California in the brightness and color of the sunlight falling on cars, building walls, people’s foreheads, and the asphalt. I didn’t go to California, but California came to me—in the impossible form of the sun growing brighter.
I first learned that the sun and moon were growing brighter two years ago. Late at night, after writing, I stood under the dark sky, smoking a cigarette, and asked, “When will You come?” Just a few days later, I discovered that the sun and moon were indeed growing brighter. I asked again in my heart, “I asked when You would come, but why are You showing me that the sun and moon are growing brighter?” A few days later, I felt compelled to read Isaiah and found this passage:
“Moreover the light of the moon shall be as the light of the sun, and the light of the sun shall be sevenfold, as the light of seven days, in the day that the Lord bindeth up the breach of his people, and healeth the stroke of their wound.”
– Isaiah 30:26 –
It was an answer to why the sun and moon were growing brighter and when the Lord’s return would be. From that day on, I began urging people to look up at the sky. Since then, on days when the sky isn’t hazy with chemtrails, I often take walks during the day. I pass by hunched elderly people, hurried young adults, and children holding their mothers’ hands, feeling an indescribable sadness. Then, I see the dazzling light falling on everything in the world and sense the approaching Kingdom of Heaven.
“The future is already here. It’s just not evenly distributed yet.”
Was that a line from the drama <Sisyphus>? I don’t know much about the writer, but it’s a line that could be called biblical. The future is both something created by countless “present” moments and something predetermined before creation that pours into us. From a human perspective, the future is something we must strive for through hard work and countless trials. But from God’s perspective, the future is like a past that has already happened. That’s why, whenever I walk, I see both Heaven and Hell.
Glimpse of Heaven.
Glimpse of Hell.
I see the hem of eternity. From the sunlight that grows brighter each day, I see the hem of Heaven, which feels like it doesn’t belong to this world. From the waves of sudden sorrow or the creeping mist of sadness that approaches people, I see the hem of Hell. And I feel a trembling reverence, beyond joy, knowing that I am heading toward a Heaven filled with truth and light. Everyone heading toward Heaven will see it if they pay attention. Glimpse of Heaven. Glimpse of Hell.
But those heading toward Hell see neither. What they see is a Strong Delusion.
“And for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie.”
– 2 Thessalonians 2:11 –
Now I feel that the curtain call for the 6,000-year-long play called “human history” is approaching. From Adam and Eve to the last martyr of Israel, everyone will stand on the same stage, greet each other, take off their costumes, and change into white garments for the after-party. But not all actors will attend. Most who did not embrace the love of truth will realize that the brief pain of the play on stage is nothing compared to the eternal pain they will truly experience. In that sense, we still don’t know true joy, true pain, true beauty, or true ugliness. Only the glimpse, the hem of eternity, is allowed.
What do you see? If you don’t see the sun growing brighter each day, you’re likely seeing a vain illusion. If you can let go of the desire wrapped in the fancy packaging of a “dream,” now is the best time to wake up from the illusion. From the strange pandemic, the surge of strange diseases and deaths, from those who risk personal loss to speak the truth, from strange disasters, from bizarre movies, dramas, and music videos, from the sun and moon growing brighter each day… Clues to wake up from soul-stealing illusions are more abundant than ever in history. If you can let go of the desire disguised as a humble dream, you can wake up. So today, as I walk and see the hem of eternity, I secretly pray for the strangers passing by.
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