When I Learned that life on Earth isn't Permanent and how to deal with that fact

    I was recently watching a YouTube video about the planets and our solar system and felt like the rug was pulled out from under me. I was surprised to hear that, in billions of years, Earth will become uninhabitable and the universe as we know it will look very different. Yes, “billions of years” is almost unimaginable, but I try to think generationally: what will life be like for my descendants during that time.  I grew up believing the universe was static, permanent and unchanging. But it isn’t. The universe is dynamic and ever-changing.  

    That realization forced a lot of other questions on me. How does God fit into all of this? Why would He create a universe that doesn’t last forever? I found myself going back to the Garden of Eden story: the teaching that sin entered the world because of Adam and Eve and that physical death is the result. If Earth itself will one day be uninhabitable, where does the idea of “no physical death in God's original Plan” come from?

    I think a big part of this is category confusion. The biblical writers were living and speaking in an ancient Near Eastern world; their books are saturated with poetry, metaphor, and moral truth, not modern astrophysics. Genesis is addressing questions of meaning, identity, and moral origins, not the chemical and stellar mechanics of the cosmos. Treating the Bible as if it is a science textbook is a mistake that has caused a lot of confusion.

    Another hard truth I keep coming back to is this: God is hidden by design. He could make Himself obvious every day of the week:  show up on demand, answer every question, leave zero doubt. But I think part of the point of creation is that God gives us space to choose. If God sat on a throne and glared down at us all the time, we’d behave like robots trying to impress Him. We would never develop morally or spiritually the way we do when we are given freedom and responsibility. 

    Viewing how Earth will one day be uninhabitable (though it is billions of years in the future) is hard to sit with, but there’s a beautiful consolation too: the fact that the universe changes doesn’t erase meaning, it intensifies it. Christianity speaks of resurrection and a “new heavens and a new earth,” but even before that hope is fully revealed our love, kindness, work, and stewardship matter deeply; they are the ways we participate in God’s renewing work. So instead of despair, I choose to name my grief, love the people around me fiercely, build things that outlast one lifetime, and steward the gifts I’ve been given. That feels like the truest answer I have, not an escape from finitude but a life lived in faith, service, and hope, and that is a beautiful, hopeful way to end the day.