More Than Desires: How Eternity Shapes Our Sexuality

Bruno Borges, PhD(c)

“The best of life on Earth is a glimpse of Heaven; the worst of life is a glimpse of Hell. For Christians, this present life is the closest they will come to Hell. For unbelievers, it is the closest they will come to Heaven.”

—Randy Alcorn

This striking quote from Randy Alcorn reminds us that eternity casts a long shadow over our present lives. What we experience here—whether joy or suffering—is not ultimate, but a preview of something greater or more dreadful to come. When it comes to human sexuality, this eternal reality is especially profound. Our longings, desires, unions, and even our wounds offer glimpses—sometimes of Heaven’s beauty, other times of Hell’s distortion. And yet, behind it all, there is a divine purpose anchored in identity and calling, planted in the soil of Eden.

In Genesis 2, we are given a picture of unbroken communion. Adam and Eve walk with God, naked and unashamed (Gen. 2:25). Their sexuality is not yet corrupted by shame, competition, or confusion; it is pure, purposeful, and wholly integrated into their identity as image-bearers of God (Gen. 1:27-28). From the beginning, sexuality was never merely about physical pleasure or reproduction. It was about union and representation—two individuals reflecting the unity and diversity of the Godhead, and bearing witness to God’s covenantal love.

But that beauty didn’t last long. The Fall fractured the harmony of creation (Gen. 3:6-7). Shame entered, fig leaves appeared, and the relationship between the man and the woman—once defined by mutuality and trust—turned toward blame and domination (Gen. 3:12, 16). From that point on, sexuality has been marked by distortion. And yet, even in the brokenness, the echoes of Eden remain. Our longings point to something more, and our pain signals that something was lost.

This is where biblical sexuality becomes deeply theological. It’s not simply about behavior modification or moral boundaries. It’s about recovering purpose and identity—being re-formed into the kind of people who reflect God's intent for humanity. In Christ, we are not just forgiven; we are being restored to what we were meant to be. Paul puts it this way in 2 Corinthians 5:17: “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.”

This restoration is not just spiritual—it is embodied. Our bodies matter. Our maleness and femaleness matter. Our singleness and our marriages are not afterthoughts, but expressions of our call to image God. As Paul writes in Romans 12:1, we are to “present [our] bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God.” Biblical sexuality, then, is not just about “what not to do,” but about who we are and what we are for—to glorify God with every part of our being, including our sexual selves.

In a world that often sees sexuality as self-expression or personal preference, this message can feel radically countercultural. But it is also radically hopeful. The gospel doesn't just call us to resist cultural confusion—it invites us to return to the garden. Not by our own power, but through the redeeming work of Jesus, the True Bridegroom (Eph. 5:25-27), who makes us ready for the wedding feast of the Lamb. Every faithful expression of sexuality—whether chaste singleness or covenantal marriage—becomes a signpost pointing to that ultimate union.

For Christians, this life may involve struggle, loneliness, or sacrifice. But it is not meaningless. It is, as Alcorn reminds us, the closest we will come to Hell—because a better world is coming. Our wounds will be healed. Our questions will be answered. Our longing for intimacy will be fulfilled in the presence of God. And our sexuality, once marked by confusion, will be fully aligned with the glory for which it was made.

But for those who reject God’s design and live only for the moment, this life may be as close to Heaven as they’ll ever get. The temporary pleasures of sex without covenant, identity without design, or love without truth will eventually give way to sorrow. Biblical sexuality isn’t just about “rules”—it’s an invitation to be part of a bigger story. A story that began in a garden, was redeemed in a garden tomb, and will culminate in a garden city (Rev. 22:1-5), where we will see God’s face and be fully known.

In the end, our view of sexuality must be shaped by eternity. It must draw us back to the Garden—not as a nostalgic dream, but as a restored reality we are already tasting in Christ. Our identity is not up for grabs. Our purpose is not a mystery. We were made to know God, reflect His image, and invite others to glimpse Heaven through the beauty of a life restored.