My trip to see Hamilton – and Sunday’s sermon that began with a little song called “Only a Boy Named David” got me pondering about the importance of music in our lives. I can forget where I put my keys, but remember the words to “David” (and the hand movements that went with it). Hamilton posed the question, “Who writes your story?”, but it’s not the only song to pose life questions.
I was raised in church with all the traditional gospel hymns, but I was also a product of the “classic rock” era. KISS. Huey Lewis and the News. Springsteen. Cougar (not Mellencamp). CCR. Madonna. Billy Joel. Meatloaf. And, Queen with its admittedly weird but incredibly talented lead singer, Freddie Mercury.
In the song of the same name, Mercury asks the question, “Who wants to live forever?”
The song is haunting, reflective, and a little unsettling, particularly when I remember that Mercury died at 45.
On the surface, the question feels almost rhetorical. Because of course we want to live forever… don’t we?
But underlying the question in the song is a premise, a jaded view of life that sets the tone. “There’s no time for us, there’s no place for us. There’s no chance for us … It’s all decided for us. This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us.”
Is there really no chance for us? Has it all been decided for us? It seems that the question isn’t as much about living forever as it is about the kind of life we’re longing for.
Do we really want this life, as it is—fragile, uncertain, marked by loss and pain—to stretch on forever? We so often cling to life now because it’s all we know, yet remain deeply unsatisfied with how things are and how we feel.
Freddie Mercury wasn’t writing theology, but he was naming something deeply human: the recognition that something about our current experience isn’t enough … and if we want to live forever, it needs to change.
Scripture doesn’t dismiss that ache. It leans into it.
The writer of Ecclesiastes says that God “has set eternity in the human heart.” That longing for “forever” isn’t an accident. It’s a clue to what God wants for us.
Eternal life isn’t simply more time. It’s a different kind of life altogether. Jesus says, “I have come that (you) may have life, and have it to the full.” (John 10:10).
Not just longer. Fuller. More abundant. Better.
Which means the best question perhaps isn’t “Who wants to live forever?” We might ask instead, “What kind of forever will make us want to live forever?”
A forever life untouched by death but still marked by fear, regret, or emptiness wouldn’t be much of a gift. But a life drawn into the presence of God—healed, whole, and overflowing with grace—that’s something else entirely.
When music preaches, sometimes it gives voice to the questions we’re afraid to ask out loud. But the Gospel answers those questions anyway, and often not with abstract ideas, but with God’s promises.
Forever isn’t just possible; it’s a promise. A promise of something new.
Prayer: Eternal God, you have placed in my heart a longing for more than this life can offer. Help me to follow that longing toward you. Teach me to seek not just more time, but the fullness of life found in your presence. Amen.
