Adam G.

No. 0189 min read

The Godward Way: The Direction That Matters for Eternity

If our life opens into eternity, toward whom are we living now?

We usually imagine death as a wall. On this side are our thoughts, our memories, the people we love, and the familiar sense of being someone. Beyond it, we imagine darkness. What frightens us is the possibility that everything we have experienced might disappear without an answer, as though our existence had never been addressed to anyone.

The images of an enduring, interconnected universe challenge that picture. We contemplate information surviving the destruction of its visible forms, time unfolding like the pages of a book, relationships reaching beneath apparent separation, and a telescope closing while the sky remains. These images enlarge our imagination. They also bring us to a question that reaches beyond the mechanics of survival: if our life opens into eternity, toward whom are we living now?

The Godward Way gives that question a direction. Through kavanah, the soul deliberately turns toward God the Father, the unknowable Source from whom it receives life. Whatever arises in consciousness can be received, contained, and offered toward Him. The changing circumstances of existence become the material of an enduring relationship.

This is why the Godward Way matters for eternity. The prospect of continuing forever gives immense importance to the direction of our receiving. A consciousness absorbed in its own hunger could carry that hunger through an endless succession of experiences. More time, more knowledge, and more worlds would leave its deepest longing unanswered. The soul longs for its Source. Its fulfillment is to receive from the Father while remaining turned toward Him.

Consider the image of a burned book. Its visible form has vanished; its traces have scattered beyond recognition. Even if every trace could be gathered, however, the spiritual significance of a life would still concern the person who lived it: the one who desired, feared, loved, suffered, and reached beyond himself. An everlasting record of experience would leave us asking about the living relationship to which that experience belongs.

Dust, spirit, and belonging

The Hebrew wisdom of Ecclesiastes places the body and the spirit within a language of return: dust returns to the earth, and the spirit returns to the God who gave it. Read through the Godward Way, this becomes an invitation to remember the Giver while the gift of embodied life is still in our hands. Every breath received from Him can become an occasion to turn toward Him.1

The Qur’an gives this belonging an expression that Muslims carry into moments of loss: “Indeed we belong to Allah, and indeed to Him we will return” (2:156). Belonging precedes the return. In the language of the Godward Way, death brings into focus a relationship that already concerns the whole of life. We can live consciously toward the One to whom we belong.2

This relationship preserves the intimacy between the soul and its Creator. The soul remains the receiver; the Father remains the Source. To speak of God as the Will to Love and the soul as the will to receive love is to describe the movement at the heart of the Godward Way. Kavanah directs that receiving toward Him. The beloved remains someone who can receive, answer, and offer.

A page that keeps its place

The image of time as a complete book adds another dimension to this reflection. We experience a life one page at a time. Childhood recedes, people disappear from our daily surroundings, and yesterday becomes inaccessible to our hands. Yet within the image of the whole book, a page retains its place after we have finished reading it. Our inability to stand within an earlier moment does not exhaust its meaning.

The philosopher Boethius approached eternity through the fullness of divine life. In The Consolation of Philosophy, he distinguished the passage through an unending succession of moments from God’s possession of life as a whole. His account invites us to contemplate a divine presence beyond our fragmented experience of before and after. From the Godward perspective, the Father to whom we offer this moment is never confined by the moment’s passing.3

That gives weight to the ordinary present. An anxious morning, a moment of gratitude, a disappointment that nobody else notices—all can be brought toward God. Their eternal significance belongs to their relationship with Him. The soul can address the Father from within a moment it cannot keep. Kavanah makes that fleeting experience an offering.

Grief held within relationship

The imagery of hidden connection also speaks to grief. We know how deeply another person can enter our lives: through conversation, touch, shared work, familiar gestures, and years of attention. After a death, absence reaches into all those places. The Godward Way allows us to bring that entire wound toward the Father. The love, the longing, and the unanswered questions can all be offered to the One who gave life to both the mourner and the beloved. Grief itself can remain within relationship with Him.

This is a different kind of consolation from imagining ourselves scattered anonymously through creation. The Godward soul addresses the Creator as someone who belongs to Him. However vast the universe becomes in our imagination, the Father remains the destination of prayer. We can marvel at every connection within creation while directing consciousness toward its transcendent Source.

The telescope and the observer

The telescope offers a particularly fruitful image for contemplating consciousness. A telescope gives a particular view of the sky; its limits shape what can be seen through it. When we consider the body as an instrument through which embodied experience becomes possible, we can also reflect on how tightly we identify ourselves with everything that appears within experience. A thought arrives, and we call it ourselves. An emotion swells, and for a moment it seems to become our entire being.

Buddhist teaching brings searching attention to this identification. In the discourse on the characteristic of nonself, the Buddha examines the changing body, feelings, perceptions, formations, and consciousness, challenging the claim that they can be possessed as a permanent self. The Dhammapada describes heedfulness as a path to the Deathless, its language for liberation. These teachings have their own understanding of liberation; they offer a valuable discipline of examining what we habitually grasp as “mine.”45

The Godward Way gives observing a definite relational direction. We notice what arises while remaining intentionally addressed toward the Father. We allow thoughts and emotions to be experienced without granting each one our final allegiance. God remains beyond every image we form of Him, including our most compelling spiritual images. The soul’s task is to keep its direction toward Him as the contents of consciousness change.

No distance to cross first

Even the folded sheet used to picture a wormhole can become an image for prayer. Two points that appear far apart on a flat page can be brought together by folding it. In spiritual life, we often imagine an equally daunting distance between our present condition and God. We postpone turning toward Him until we feel wiser, calmer, or more deserving. Kavanah can begin in the condition we actually inhabit. The Father can be addressed from the middle of confusion. The offering is already available.

This becomes especially important when we contemplate endless time or recurring worlds. Repetition alone would leave us circling the same unexamined attachments. A longing could find a thousand new objects and remain the same longing. The image of cosmic recurrence therefore gives urgency to a change we can make now: each returning desire can become another occasion to offer ourselves toward God.

The Dao De Jing watches the flourishing of things and their return to their root. Its account of the Dao has its own spiritual meaning, yet the image of return invites a useful contemplation here. We spend our lives among the branches of experience: success and failure, pleasure and pain, recognition and obscurity. The Godward Way continually directs us toward the Father from whom our existence is received. We can live among the branches while remembering the Source.6

Catch and Offer

The practice is Catch and Offer. When fear arises, notice it and contain it long enough to address it toward God. When ambition arises, receive its energy without allowing the desired achievement to become your ultimate destination. When joy arrives, experience it fully and offer it toward the Giver. Catching and offering can become one continuous movement: awareness of what is present, held within an intention directed toward the Father.

An offering can be as simple as: Father, I bring this toward You. The fear may remain palpable. The grief may still hurt. A difficult responsibility may still require action. Through all of it, the soul has somewhere to turn. Over time, the practice develops a familiarity with remaining Godward amid changing experience. We learn to receive the moment without asking it to supply everything our soul desires.

The Bhagavad Gita makes remembrance during life central to its teaching about death. In chapter 8, Krishna speaks of remembering Him at the departure from the body, then instructs Arjuna to remember Him continually while carrying out his duty. Within that devotional teaching, the final orientation is cultivated through daily living. The Godward Way finds a close practical resonance in this integration of inward direction and outward responsibility.7

Sikh scripture likewise carries remembrance into ordinary activity. In the Guru Granth Sahib, Ang 305, Guru Ram Das describes remembering the Lord while sitting and standing, with each breath and each morsel of food. Remembrance accompanies the living body through its day. For the Godward practitioner, every such ordinary occasion can become an invitation to renewed kavanah.8

Into Your hands

The importance of practice must be held together with trust in the Father. His receiving cannot be reduced to a test of verbal precision at the final instant. Words may fail; clarity may weaken; the body may become unable to express what it once expressed easily. The Godward Way places the soul’s dependence in God Himself. Every offering teaches us to entrust ourselves to the One who remains our Source when our familiar capacities change.

Christian tradition preserves a moving expression of this entrusting in the Gospel account of Jesus’s death. Jesus, a Jew praying in the language of Israel’s Scriptures, says: “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit” (Luke 23:46), echoing Psalm 31:5. His words carry the Jewish prayer of entrustment into the moment of death. For the Godward Way, their significance is deeply personal: the spirit is offered to the Father.9

This is the direction we can practice throughout life. We bring Him our desire for certainty, our fear of losing control, and our wish to know exactly what lies beyond the visible world. Surrender becomes an exercise of the soul’s freedom: we deliberately place our receiving toward the Father. The universe can remain immense, and the future can remain beyond our command. Our intention still has its address.

The address of eternity

Eternity gives this practice its deepest horizon. A life spent turning toward God is already a life being lived in relation to the Eternal. Every sincere offering participates in that relationship now. We receive the gift of existence, experience its changing forms, and keep directing ourselves toward the Giver. God Himself remains the reason for the turning.

Death may stand before us like a final wall, but the Godward soul can approach it carrying the same intention it has practiced in the smallest moments of life. We can bring the fear, the love, the unfinished work, and the life we cannot hold onto toward the Father. At the threshold, the prayer remains available in its simplest form: Father, I bring myself toward You.

To live Godward is to begin that offering now, and to entrust its eternity to Him.


Sources

  1. Ecclesiastes 12:7. The dust returns to the earth, and the spirit returns to God who gave it. Sefaria.
  2. Qur’an 2:156. “Indeed we belong to Allah, and indeed to Him we will return.” Quranic Arabic Corpus.
  3. Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy, Book V, Prose 6. Eternity as the whole, simultaneous, and perfect possession of unending life (interminabilis vitae tota simul et perfecta possessio). Latin text, J. J. O’Donnell edition.
  4. Anattalakkhana Sutta (SN 22.59), the discourse on the characteristic of nonself. Access to Insight.
  5. Dhammapada, Chapter 2: Heedfulness (Appamadavagga). “Heedfulness is the path to the Deathless.” Access to Insight.
  6. Dao De Jing, Chapter 16. Things flourish and each returns to its root. Chinese Text Project.
  7. Bhagavad Gita 8.5 and 8.7. Remembering Krishna at death; remembering Him at all times while doing one’s duty. Holy Bhagavad Gita, 8.5; see also 8.7.
  8. Guru Granth Sahib, Ang 305 (Guru Ram Das). Remembrance while sitting and standing, with each breath and each morsel of food. SriGranth.
  9. Luke 23:46; Psalm 31:5. “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” Bible Gateway (NIV).

Frequently asked questions

Why does the Godward Way matter for eternity?

The prospect of continuing forever gives immense importance to the direction of our receiving. A consciousness absorbed in its own hunger could carry that hunger through an endless succession of experiences. The soul longs for its Source; its fulfillment is to receive from the Father while remaining turned toward Him.

What is Catch and Offer?

When fear, ambition, or joy arises, notice it, contain it long enough, and address it toward God. An offering can be as simple as: “Father, I bring this toward You.” Catching and offering become one continuous movement: awareness of what is present, held within an intention directed toward the Father.

Do I have to find the perfect words at the moment of death?

No. The Father’s receiving cannot be reduced to a test of verbal precision at the final instant. The Godward Way places the soul’s dependence in God Himself, and the direction practiced in the smallest moments of life is the one the soul carries to the threshold: “Father, I bring myself toward You.”