Life after Delivery

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”- 2 Corinthians 4:16–18

It’s hard to believe in what we cannot see.

We are creatures of the visible world, tangible, touchable, concrete. And yet, the Christian life calls us to trust in realities beyond our immediate grasp. A future we have not seen. A Savior we have never touched. A home we have never visited. At times, it can feel like we are being asked to believe in a dream.

But the Bible speaks of this life as a shadow of what is to come. It tells us that faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1). To help us grasp this, let me share a story—simple, imaginative, and quietly profound.

In a mother’s womb were two unborn babies. One turned to the other and asked,
“Do you believe in life after delivery?”

The other replied,
“Of course. There has to be something after this. Maybe we’re here to prepare for what comes next.”

“Nonsense,” said the first.
“There’s no life after delivery. What kind of life would that be?”

The second thought for a moment and answered,
“I don’t know. But perhaps it will be brighter than here. Maybe we’ll walk with our legs and eat with our mouths.”

The first baby laughed.
“That’s absurd. Walking? Eating? The umbilical cord supplies everything we need. And it’s far too short for that. Life after delivery is to be excluded. There’s nothing beyond this.”

The second replied softly,
“What if it’s just different? Maybe we won’t need the cord anymore.”

The first pressed again,
“If there’s life after delivery, then why has no one ever come back? Delivery is the end. It’s final. It’s darkness.”

The second said quietly,
“Maybe—just maybe—we’ll meet Mother. She’ll care for us.”

“Mother?” scoffed the first.
“You believe in Mother? Where is she?”

The second smiled,
“She’s all around us. We live in her. Without her, we wouldn’t be here.”

The first said,
“I don’t see her. So she can’t be real.”

And the second whispered,
“Sometimes, when we are quiet... and really listen... you can sense her presence. You can hear her voice. Calling from above.”

This little story is not scripture, but it reflects something deeply true about the Christian life.

We live now in what C.S. Lewis might call the "shadowlands." The world we see is real, but it is not final. Like those unborn children, we are being prepared for a world we cannot yet imagine. Scripture tells us there is a glory coming that will make all present sorrows seem “light and momentary.” There is life after this life. There is a Father who surrounds us even now, though we do not yet see Him face to face.

We are not home yet. This life is the womb. Glory is the delivery. And God, our Father, is all around us.

Don’t lose heart.

If today feels dark or uncertain, if the world around you seems only to confirm the doubts and not the promises, remember: what is seen is passing away. What is unseen is eternal. The cord that seems to supply everything here will be cut one day. But we will not die. We will be born.

So fix your eyes on Jesus. Walk by faith, not by sight. And when it’s quiet, and you’re still, listen. You may hear His voice, as He reminds you of the sacred Scripture and warms your heart with its promises.