I was 11 years old when I had my first panic attack. It was the night before my first day of sixth grade, a hot, balmy August evening in which it felt like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the world to fill my lungs.
I had started thinking about the idea of eternal life, what living “forever” would actually feel like. Forever is forever, and there’s nothing I could ever want to do for that long. That thought terrified me. This notion of being in paradise after you die, something most people use as a catalyst to sharing the Gospel or motivator to living a religiously pious life when contrasting it to hell, honestly seemed horrific to me. Not that hell was an option either, just that the thought of being anywhere forever seemed unfathomable.
A few weeks ago, I was having coffee with a friend of mine who is Muslim. She said they believe death is actually a “new birth.” Even as an agnostic, I tend to believe that, or at least I think it’s within the realm of possibilities. And if, unfortunately or hopefully, wherever you land on the spectrum, there is something after this life, then that would give new meaning to our purpose here on Earth, right?
I remember mindlessly flipping through the channels on TV when I was a teenager. I stumbled across Mother Angelica on the Catholic channel and stopped for some reason. I’m not Catholic and never have been, so I’m not exactly sure what piqued my interest, but she was doing an interview with a man, likely a priest, about death. He said it’s merely another stage in our development.
He compared it to children in the womb. They can’t fathom what their existence will be like once they’re born and don’t even realize their birth is imminent. Neither can we understand what this “new birth” will be like or if there is one for sure. You can’t tell fetuses what Earth is like. You can’t explain who you are in relation to them or what their surroundings will be once they are born. They wouldn’t even know the language you’re attempting to communicate these things to them. That’s why the child comes out screaming. The shock of this new birth, this new world, is startling.
I could see how death and what comes next, if anything, might be the same way. It can’t be communicated with us here because we don’t yet have the ability to grasp it.
The child in the womb is merely existing, floating, growing, and hopefully having all of his or her physical needs met as his or her body prepares for this next phase of existence. But what if we’re to be doing the same right now as well? What if we’re in a similar preparation phase, just on a different plane? What if our time here simply serves as a preparation for something beyond what we cannot even begin to fathom?
Are we getting all of the spiritual nutrients and vitamins we need for this next place? Are we learning, growing, and developing as much as we can?
Last week, I had another friend mention her two adopted daughters. Their first mother struggled with addiction, and she talked about the things the girls are now working to overcome because their development in the womb was stunted due to the toxic chemicals that polluted their environment for nine months. For me, this added a whole new layer to the idea of our time here.
Am I using it wisely? Am I developing all of the skills I will need to be prepared for my “new birth” into something else at the end of my life? Or am I stunting my development by filling my days with distractions?
In this age, we have Netflix, TikTok, Facebook, Instagram, and Candy Crush. We have hours of endless distractions right in the palm of our hands. We don’t ever have to be alone with our thoughts if we don’t want to be. We don’t ever have to wonder and spiritually grow unless we choose to and intentionally fight for the hours to do so.
We could go our whole earthly lives without ever asking many of the questions generations prior were grappling with from very young ages.
As much as I hated that panic attack, so much that my heart started racing just recounting it here, I think it was something to which I was exposed at such a young age because somewhere inside of me, I knew that I need to get comfortable with being uncomfortable and thinking about things beyond this phase of existence.
Some part of me, and of all of us, is supposed to be growing spiritually while we are here.
Our lungs need to get strong enough to breathe through those moments of panic over the uncertainties of an afterlife because perhaps those thoughts are preparing us for our “new birth.” If we aren’t intentional with our spiritual growth and don’t dedicate the time and thought necessary to make it happen in this life, we could end up spiritually stillborn in the next.
Destiny Herndon-De La Rosa is the president and founder of the consistent life ethic group New Wave Feminists. She lives in Dallas, Texas, with her husband and their four children.
