Living Backwards From the End
Day 20 — Unseen: Colossians 3:1-4, 2 Corinthians 4:16-18
Introduction
Yesterday you saw where the story is going.
A new heaven and a new earth. God dwelling with His people. Every tear wiped away. Everything broken made new. The homesickness finally over — not because you left, but because He came. The full life Jesus promised, finally experienced without interference or limitation or the long shadow of the enemy’s schemes.
That is the destination. That is what is coming.
And here is the question that changes everything about how you live between now and then: what would it look like to live today in the light of that?
Not to escape the present — but to inhabit it differently. To carry the weight of today with the knowledge of what is coming. To make choices, sustain relationships, face suffering, and spend your ordinary hours as someone who knows how the story ends.
This is what it means to live with eternity in view. Not with your head in the clouds — with your feet on the ground and your eyes on the horizon. Present in the moment. But anchored to what is coming.
And it changes everything.
Scripture
Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory.
— Colossians 3:1-4 (NIV)
Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
— 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 (NIV)
Reflection
Hidden With Christ in God
Paul says something in Colossians 3 that should stop you in your tracks: your life is now hidden with Christ in God.
Hidden. Secured. Not exposed to the verdict of the world, not vulnerable to the enemy’s accusations, not dependent on the approval of people who were never qualified to define you. Your life — your real life, your eternal life, the life that began when you walked through the open door — is tucked away in the safest place in the universe. In Christ. In God. Beyond the reach of anything that could threaten or diminish it.
And one day — when Christ appears — that hidden life will be revealed in full. You also will appear with him in glory. The restoration of the image of God that the Spirit has been working in you since the moment you belonged to Him — complete. The identity that has been secured but not yet fully experienced — fully realized. The Kingdom ambassador who has been living as an alien in a foreign land — finally home.
That is your future. That is where you are heading. And knowing it changes the way you walk the road.
What Eternity Does to Today
Paul doesn’t write about eternity as a comfort for people who have given up on the present. He writes about it as a lens that transforms the present — giving suffering its proper proportion, giving choices their proper weight, giving ordinary moments their proper significance.
We do not lose heart. Not because the present isn’t hard — it is. Not because the outward is not wasting away — it is. But because the inward is being renewed. Because the troubles are achieving something — an eternal glory that far outweighs them. Because what is seen is temporary and what is unseen is eternal.
Think about what that means for the specific weight you named yesterday. The suffering that feels permanent — it is not. The gap between who you are and who you’re becoming — it is closing, and it will one day be gone entirely. The version of yourself that still runs on the old operating system — it is passing away, being replaced by a new creation that will one day be fully revealed in glory.
But it also means that the small things matter more, not less.
The moment of kindness toward a difficult person — it has eternal weight. The choice to surrender the old verdict and receive the true one — it is conforming you to an image that will one day be revealed in glory. The five minutes of silence with the Spirit, the prayer without words, the act of putting on the armor and standing firm — none of it is wasted. None of it is small. All of it is achieving something — an eternal glory that far outweighs the trouble it cost.
You are not just enduring the present on the way to the future. You are building something that will last forever, in the ordinary moments of your ordinary days.
Living with eternity in view doesn’t make the present smaller. It makes it larger. Every moment has eternal weight. Every act of love, every surrender, every step deeper into the life Jesus promised — it is all going somewhere. It all counts. It is all being woven into a glory that you cannot yet fully see but that is more real than anything you can touch.
Grace Note
“Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, he confirmed it with an oath. God did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled to take hold of the hope set before us may be greatly encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf.” — Hebrews 6:17-20 (NIV)
The future is not just a distant comfort — it is a present anchor. The hope set before you holds you now, in the middle of the storm, in the gap between who you are and who you’re becoming, in the ordinary weight of today. Jesus has already gone ahead — through the curtain, into the inner sanctuary — as your forerunner. He is already there. And the anchor He has set holds firm regardless of what the weather looks like on the surface. Presence changes the present. The one who is coming is already with you.
Prayer Prompt
Jesus, I want to live differently because of what is coming. Not with my head in the clouds — but with my feet on the ground and my eyes on the horizon.
Let eternity reframe my present. Let the glory that is coming give my suffering its proper proportion — real, but light and momentary compared to what awaits. Let the permanence of what is unseen loosen my grip on what is temporary. Let the knowledge that my life is hidden with You in God make me less afraid of what the world can say or do or take.
And let the weight of eternity make my ordinary moments feel significant rather than small. Remind me that the act of love I offer today, the surrender I make this morning, the truth I choose over the verdict this afternoon — it all counts. It is all going somewhere. It is all being woven into something.
I want to live backwards from the end. Show me what that looks like today — specifically, in my actual life.
Amen.
Response
1. Reframe One Burden: Take the heaviest thing you are carrying right now and ask: how does eternity change the proportion of this? Not to dismiss it — but to hold it up against the glory that is coming and let that comparison do its work. Write down what shifts when you look at it through that lens.
2. Find the Eternal Weight in the Ordinary: Look at your schedule for tomorrow — the meetings, the conversations, the tasks, the people you will encounter. Choose one ordinary moment and write down its eternal dimension. How does that moment look different when you see it as something being woven into a glory that will last forever?
3. Live It Hidden: Read Colossians 3:1-4 slowly and sit with this truth: your life is hidden with Christ in God. The verdict of the world has no access to it. The enemy’s accusations cannot reach it. The approval of people who were never qualified to define you is irrelevant to it. For five minutes today — just five — live from that place. Hidden. Secure. Unafraid. And see what it feels like to move through the world from there.
To read all the posts in this devotional series, visit: https://www.thisistheway.live/t/unseen
© Steve Peschke / This Is The Way