Sometimes, after I listen to my friends talk about all their plans for life, I think about how—statistically—half of them will probably be dead before any of their dreams ever can come true. Or how maybe I am part of that percentage of my generation who won't make it to a twenty-fifth year of existence.
At first it's rather depressing; and I wonder what meaning there could be in a life so fraught with pain and broken-ness. What point is there? Why take the precious time I have here on earth and invest it in something(or someone) who could very well be gone tomorrow? Likewise, how could anyone see reason in doing the same for me? Why do we waste our lives so? Everything is going to end. The world itself must die eventually. Examples in nature tell us as much.
And then I remember that death is not the end. I remember joyfully that death has in reality been conquered. Crushed, smothered, stripped of its power and glory. Death, ye be not proud. Though you deceive and seem to take captive all those I hold dear, I know it is but a bluff. I know of the soul's immortality; I know of an everlasting home. I know of an eternal Savior. In fact, investing in a human's soul is the one thing in this world that holds any lasting value at all, because it is the only thing we jaw that is lasting.
I believe this. I forget a lot; but I believe it to be true. I'm tempted to give up time and time again, but I pray for restraint. Just as all this world's joys will end, so too will its grievances.
Take heart my friends—we will emerge from this battle victorious and shining in the light of He who defeated pain and suffering.
Death, thou shalt die.
