Glimpses of Eden

The quote: “We all long for Eden, and we are constantly glimpsing it: our whole nature at its best and least corrupted, its gentlest and most humane, is still soaked with the sense of exile”—is widely attributed to J.R.R. Tolkien, though it doesn’t appear in his most well-known works like The Lord of the Rings or The Silmarillion. It closely reflects the themes and tone of Tolkien’s letters, particularly those found in The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Humphrey Carpenter. While the exact wording may be paraphrased or compiled from multiple sources, the sentiment is authentically Tolkienian.

What It Means:

At its heart, this quote expresses a deep theological and emotional idea:
Human beings carry within them an inborn longing for a lost wholeness, an Eden, a paradise where things were once as they were meant to be. This longing isn’t just nostalgia or imagination—it’s tied to the sense that we were made for something more, something unbroken.

“Our whole nature... is soaked with the sense of exile.”
Tolkien is saying that even in our most noble and humane moments, we are haunted by a kind of spiritual homesickness. There's a dissonance between the beauty we glimpse in life and our awareness that something essential has been lost. We're not where we belong. And we know it.

In Tolkien's Work

This idea of exile and longing for the true home saturates Tolkien’s legendarium:

• The Elves are immortal but exiled from Valinor, the "Undying Lands." Even the fairest places in Middle-earth are only shadows of the true light they once knew.
• The Men of Númenor, like us, are mortal, driven by a deep yearning for what was lost when they were cut off from the Blessed Realm.
• The Hobbits, though seemingly simple and content, are part of a world slowly losing its magic and fading into a more mundane age. Even Frodo, who saves the world, cannot be healed in it—he must go "West" to find peace.

Tolkien described The Lord of the Rings as “a fundamentally religious and Catholic work,” and the Edenic theme mirrors Christian theology: humanity was created for union with God, but through sin, we live in exile. The longing we feel for joy, peace, beauty, or home is, in that framework, a longing for our Creator.

Aesthetic Glimpses of Eden

The phrase “we are constantly glimpsing it” captures Tolkien’s belief in what he called sub-creation: when artists, poets, and storytellers reflect the divine by making things that echo the Creator’s beauty and truth. Music, nature, acts of kindness, stories of courage and sacrifice—all of these are partial, fleeting windows into the world as it should be.

These glimpses stir the heart because they remind us of Eden—not just a mythical past, but a real ideal we were made for. But they also wound us a little, because they make us aware of our exile.

Final Thoughts

Tolkien’s vision is tender and profound. He believed that beauty, goodness, and the ache for home point beyond themselves. In a world marred by suffering, we still carry within us the memory and the hope of something better. That ache, that “sense of exile,” is not a flaw. It’s the mark of where we truly belong.

Or as C.S. Lewis—Tolkien’s friend and fellow thinker—once said:

“If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.”

Tolkien would agree.

This sense of exile, longing, or being dislocated from a true home or ideal state, though uniquely expressed in Tolkien’s Christian imagination, is a remarkably universal human intuition. Across cultures and philosophies—from Greek philosophers to Eastern mystics, from modern psychologists to poets and prophets—many have wrestled with this ache for something lost or just out of reach.

Here’s a survey of key voices who echo or explore similar themes:

Plato and Aristotle (Greek Philosophy)

Plato (427–347 BC):

Plato’s concept of the Forms and the Allegory of the Cave are foundational here.

• In the Allegory of the Cave (Republic Book VII), humans are like prisoners in a cave who only see shadows of the real world. When one escapes and sees the sun—the true source of light—he realizes how dim and partial his previous existence was.

• Plato believed we have innate knowledge of the Good, the True, and the Beautiful because our souls once dwelt in the realm of the Forms (ideal realities). Our longing is a kind of memory—a homesickness for the eternal.

Resonance with Tolkien: We glimpse Eden because we've seen it once—our soul remembers.

Aristotle (384–322 BC):

Aristotle was more grounded, but he too recognized a human yearning toward eudaimonia—a flourishing life of virtue and fulfillment. Though he didn’t teach a lost paradise, he emphasized that we are not yet what we ought to be. We are creatures in motion, striving toward our telos—our ultimate purpose.

Resonance with Tolkien: Our nature desires a perfected state—it aches for fulfillment.

🔹 Augustine (Christian Philosophy, 4th–5th Century)

“You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.”
— Confessions, Book I

Augustine of Hippo crystallized the Christian idea of existential restlessness. Like Tolkien, he saw beauty and longing as signs pointing to a deeper reality—a memory of Eden and a hunger for God.

Resonance: Exile is not just from a place but from communion with God.

🔹 Carl Jung (Analytical Psychology, 20th Century)

Jung explored the deep structures of the human psyche and the archetypes that emerge in dreams, myths, and religions. He believed humans have a collective unconscious—a repository of symbolic patterns shared across cultures.

• One archetype is the Lost Paradise or Golden Age—a symbol of wholeness and undivided life before the “Fall.”

• Jung also spoke of the Self as the true center of the psyche—often hidden or buried. The journey of individuation (becoming whole) is often cast as a kind of return to something ancient and original.

Resonance with Tolkien: The longing for Eden is mythic but also psychologically real—a reflection of the soul's journey toward wholeness.

🔹 Laozi and Eastern Thought (Taoism)

In Tao Te Ching, Laozi (6th century BC) describes a primordial harmony between humans and the Tao (the Way). As civilization developed, we lost that unity and began striving, dividing, and corrupting ourselves.

“When the Tao is lost, virtue arises. When virtue is lost, morality arises. When morality is lost, ritual arises.”
—Tao Te Ching, Chapter 38

• Taoism sees our alienation as a loss of simplicity, spontaneity, and connection with the natural order.

• The goal is to return to a state of wu wei—effortless action in harmony with the Tao.

Resonance with Tolkien: The gentle, harmonious nature we glimpse is a shadow of our forgotten unity with the Way.

🔹 Hindu and Buddhist Thought

• In Hinduism, especially Vedanta, the self (Atman) is one with Brahman (the universal reality), but through illusion (Maya), we have forgotten our true nature.

• In Buddhism, suffering (dukkha) arises from desire and attachment, and liberation comes through awakening—remembering the impermanence and emptiness of the world.

While they don’t speak of “Eden,” both traditions assert that:

We are estranged from our true state and must undergo a journey of awakening, detachment, or remembering to find peace.

🔹 Modern Voices

C.S. Lewis:

As mentioned earlier, Lewis shared Tolkien’s vision:

“The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them... for they are not the thing itself; they only point.”
—The Weight of Glory

Lewis saw beauty as a signpost to our true home—not something invented by the imagination but awakened by it.

T.S. Eliot:

“We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.”
—Four Quartets

✨ Summary

Final Reflection

This longing for Eden is not exclusive to Christianity—it is human. Tolkien’s genius was to clothe this longing in narrative: through hobbits and elves and dark lords and fading stars. But the ache beneath it is echoed in every corner of philosophy, religion, and poetry.

Whether it's called Eden, Tao, Atman, Eudaimonia, or the Self—something in us knows we are not whole. And something in us hopes we might be.

Tim Keller, with his blend of Reformed theology, cultural engagement, and pastoral sensitivity, would have deeply affirmed the truth behind Tolkien’s quote—and perhaps even preached a sermon from it.

He would have said, in essence:

“That longing you feel—for beauty, for home, for justice, for love that never ends—is real. And it is not naïve or sentimental. It is a clue. A memory trace. A divine fingerprint.”

Let’s explore how Keller might engage Tolkien’s quote and the broader idea of “longing for Eden” using his theological framework and gospel-centered approach.

🔹 Keller’s Theological Frame: “The Gospel Is Good News About Home”

Keller often emphasized that Christianity is not just a set of rules or beliefs—it is a story, and that story begins with creation, not just with sin.

“The Bible doesn’t begin with sin. It begins with shalom—with everything the way it’s supposed to be.”

Keller would interpret Tolkien’s “longing for Eden” as the soul’s deep awareness of lost shalom—a recognition that we were made for a world without death, alienation, or fear. He often said:

“We are homesick for a place we’ve never been.”

And Tolkien’s imagery of “exile” would resonate profoundly with Keller’s preaching. In his sermons and books (especially The Reason for God and Making Sense of God), he spoke of humanity’s existential homelessness:

• Our relationships don’t satisfy.

• Our work feels frustrating.

• Our moral efforts feel futile.

• Even our greatest joys feel tinged with fragility or impermanence.

That’s because, Keller would say, we remember Eden. We are exiles.

🔹 Keller on Longing: Echoes of the True Country

Keller often quoted C.S. Lewis to support the idea that our longings are not just unmet desires but evidences of another world. From Mere Christianity:

“If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”

To this, Keller added:

“You don't really get hungry unless there's such a thing as food. You don’t get thirsty unless there’s such a thing as water. So if you find in yourself this inconsolable longing—where does that come from?”

He used this to argue that our deepest longings aren’t random or cruel tricks, but are divine echoes—longings for the lost Garden, the new City, the face of God.

🔹 The Ache of Exile, the Hope of Redemption

Tolkien’s language about being “soaked with the sense of exile” fits perfectly with Keller’s frequent teachings on the human condition:

“The story of the Bible is that we lost our true home—and we’ve been wandering ever since. Every other home you try to make for yourself, whether it's career or romance or achievement, will ultimately fail to satisfy. But Jesus came to bring us home.”

He would quote Genesis 3, showing how Adam and Eve were exiled from Eden—cast out of the presence of God, guarded by cherubim and a flaming sword. That sword, Keller often said, represents the justice of God that must fall on anyone who tries to get back to Eden.

But then Keller would point to the cross:

“Jesus Christ passed through the sword. He took the exile so we could be brought home.”

🔹 Keller and the Glimpses of Eden

Tolkien says, “we are constantly glimpsing [Eden].”

Keller would echo this with examples from everyday life:

• That moment in music that moves you to tears.

• The smile of a child that feels like joy incarnate.

• The beauty of a sunset, or a moment of deep belonging.

Keller would say:

“Those are foretastes. They’re not the feast. They’re postcards from the country you were made for.”

But he’d also warn: if we try to make those glimpses into the ultimate thing, they will crush us—or we’ll crush them. This was central to his teaching on idolatry.

“Anything you try to turn into Eden will become your hell. Only Jesus can give you the real thing.”

🔹 In Keller’s Voice: A Summary

“We are all exiles. We are all homesick. We remember a world we were made for, but can’t get back to on our own. And every joy we experience now is both a gift and a grief: a glimpse of Eden, and a reminder we’re not there yet.

But the gospel says: God didn’t leave us in exile. He came for us. Jesus left his home so that we could be brought back to ours. He bore the sword that keeps us from Eden, so that one day we could walk again in the presence of God—with no more death, no more mourning, and no more longing.”

🔹 Bonus: A Tim Keller-Style Outline or Devotional on Tolkien’s Quote

Title: “The Longing That Leads Home”

1. Glimpses of Glory – We all catch flashes of beauty, joy, and peace that pierce the heart.

2. The Ache of Exile – These glimpses hurt, because they remind us we’re not home.

3. The Memory of Eden – Our longings point to a real past and a promised future.

4. The Failed Substitutes – Career, love, even religion—none can truly satisfy the ache.

5. The Cross in the Wilderness – Jesus is the way back from exile.

6. The New Eden – The gospel ends not in a return to a garden, but to a city where God dwells with his people.

Here is a 5+1 day devotional series, modeled in the spirit of Tim Keller, based on Tolkien’s quote:

“We all long for Eden, and we are constantly glimpsing it: our whole nature at its best and least corrupted, its gentlest and most humane, is still soaked with the sense of exile.”
—J.R.R. Tolkien

Each day follows Keller’s theological voice—gospel-centered, culturally attuned, biblically grounded, and emotionally honest.

Day 1: Glimpses of Glory

Ecclesiastes 3:11 – “He has set eternity in the human heart...”

There are moments in life that seem to stop time. A piece of music leaves you weeping, and you’re not sure why. A look between lovers or friends carries more weight than words can say. You climb a hill and see the sun cast gold across the horizon, and for a breath, you feel as if you're seeing through a window into a better world. These moments, Tolkien said, are glimpses of Eden.

They are too real to be dismissed as sentiment, too beautiful to be accidental. According to the Bible, these are not mere neurological responses or evolutionary quirks—they are revelations. Echoes. Hints. In those moments, “eternity” breaks into time. And your heart stirs not just with pleasure, but with ache.

Why ache? Because these glimpses are never enough. The music fades. The friend moves away. The sunset darkens. The child grows. You long not only for the thing but for more of it—for permanence, for wholeness, for perfection. You are not just enjoying a good thing; you are remembering a world where good things did not end.

C.S. Lewis once wrote that the books and music in which we thought beauty was located “betray us if we trust to them”—for they are not the thing itself. They are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard.

What do we do with these glimpses? Let them lead you. Don’t idolize them—follow where they point. These moments are signs, not destinations. They call you to lift your eyes toward the One who planted eternity in your heart.

Day 2: The Ache of Exile

Genesis 3:24 – “He drove out the man...”

Why is it that no matter how good our lives are, we still feel something is missing? Even in seasons of prosperity or contentment, there’s an undertone of unease. It's as though our joy comes with a shadow, our peace with a pulse of anxiety just beneath the surface. This, Tolkien said, is the ache of exile. The human heart, even at its best, is “soaked with the sense of exile.”

Scripture tells us that this exile is not metaphorical. It is historical and spiritual. We were created for Eden—a place of union with God, harmony with others, and peace within ourselves. But because of sin, humanity was expelled. And ever since, every human being has lived east of Eden. Homeless. Restless. Homesick.

This ache of exile explains so much. It explains why we feel deep frustration when our relationships fail to fulfill us, why our achievements always seem to fall just short, and why even our most beautiful experiences carry a strange weight of sorrow. We remember a wholeness we’ve never actually known. The theologian Augustine famously said, “Our hearts are restless until they rest in You.” Our modern world tells us to silence that restlessness with distraction or consumption. But Scripture invites us to listen to it—to trace it back to its source.

The ache of exile is not something to be fixed quickly. It is a wound that speaks. And what it tells us is vital: This world is not as it should be. And neither are we.

Let that ache soften you, not harden you. Let it drive you not into bitterness but into hope. For exile is not the end of the story.

Day 3: The Memory of Eden

Romans 8:22–23 – “We know that the whole creation has been groaning...”

There is a kind of grief that runs deeper than our individual experiences. A cosmic homesickness. Paul says that creation itself is groaning—as if the world remembers something it lost. And in that groaning, we hear our own voice. We long not just for comfort or success, but for restoration. We are not simply seeking improvement; we are yearning for return.

This longing is not irrational. In fact, it is evidence that we are creatures of memory. Even though we have never personally seen Eden, we carry its imprint. The story of the Fall is not just about Adam and Eve; it is the human story. We are born into exile with the faint recollection of how things ought to be. And so we hunger for a world without disease, death, betrayal, or silence from heaven. In our best moments, our desires betray us—not as delusions, but as glimpses of what we were made for.

This longing is also eschatological. It pulls us forward as well as backward. For the promise of Scripture is not merely that Eden will be remembered—but that it will be remade. Revelation doesn’t end with a return to a garden, but with the descent of a city—a renewed Eden, where God once again walks among His people.

What does this mean for us? It means that your longings are not weaknesses to suppress or embarrassments to hide. They are the soul’s memory—and its compass. When rightly understood, they point not inward or backward, but upward and forward. You were made for more. You remember because God remembers.

Day 4: The Failed Substitutes

Jeremiah 2:13 – “They have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, and dug for themselves cisterns...”

We cannot live without hope, without some sense that the ache of exile might be soothed. So we reach. We strive. We build. We attempt to make homes for ourselves, identities for ourselves, comfort for ourselves. But each of these attempts—no matter how noble—eventually fails.

Jeremiah says we’ve forsaken the fountain of living water and dug our own cisterns—broken ones that can hold no water. In other words, we try to recreate Eden without the God of Eden. We seek shalom without the One who gives it. And when that fails, we either grow bitter or become addicts, chasing the next substitute for hope.

Tim Keller often pointed out that when a good thing becomes an ultimate thing, it becomes an idol—and idols always break the hearts of their worshipers. If you try to make your career your Eden, it will crush you with its demands. If you try to make your romantic partner your Eden, you’ll destroy the relationship through impossible expectations. Even religion, if treated as a substitute for God Himself, becomes an exhausting treadmill.

The ache of exile can only be met by the One who was exiled for us.

So pause. What have you been turning into Eden? What are the broken cisterns you keep returning to? Let them dry out. Let them fail. Because only then will you thirst again for the fountain of living water.

Day 5: The Cross in the Wilderness

Luke 24:31 – “And their eyes were opened, and they recognized him...”

When Adam and Eve were expelled from Eden, a flaming sword was placed at the entrance to guard the way back. It was a visual metaphor: you can’t return without passing through judgment. You cannot walk back into God’s presence without dealing with the reality of sin. The sword must fall.

But here is the miracle: the sword did fall—on Jesus. The One who was at the center of Eden left His glory to enter our wilderness. He was not spared exile. He was born in a stable, misunderstood, rejected by His people, and ultimately crucified outside the city gates. He bore the full weight of our separation from God.

And in doing so, He opened the way back.

Keller often said that the gospel isn’t advice—it’s news. The good news is that Jesus passed through the sword so we could come home. And now, in the wilderness of this world, He meets us as He met the disciples on the road to Emmaus: quietly, kindly, and recognizably only when our hearts begin to burn.

You are not forgotten in exile. You are not left to wander alone. The Shepherd came for His sheep. And His cross is the gate.

+1 Day: The New Eden

Revelation 21:3 – “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man...”

The Bible does not end with a return to Eden. It ends with something far better: a renewed creation, a holy city where God dwells fully with His people. The Tree of Life stands again, but now in the middle of a city filled with nations. There is no temple, because the Lamb is the temple. No sun, because the glory of God is the light.

This is not just poetic—it’s the fulfillment of every ache, every glimpse, every exile. The longings that once brought us to our knees will one day lift us to our feet. Tolkien called this “eucatastrophe”—the sudden, joyful turn that reverses the tragedy. The gospel is God’s eucatastrophe.

And here’s the wonder: the New Eden is not only future. It begins now. In every act of mercy, in every gathering of the church, in every taste of grace, the Kingdom is breaking in. The Spirit is making your heart a home for God, even as He prepares a home for you.

So live with hope. Let your longings awaken joy, not despair. The exile is not forever. The glimpses are not in vain. Eden is not lost—it is being restored.

He who was exiled is coming again. And when He comes, He will bring you home.