Yet Another

Today I attended yet another commemorative funeral service. When I glance at the days in my calendar that march ahead of me, yet to be filled with events, I see invisible ink soaking up pigment; plans made for me that I have no interest, nor inclination to take part in, that I will nonetheless, find myself at. 

I take solace in the words, Jesus wept. I weep too when someone dies, and in particular, when foul play is apparent; and there's a whole mess of foul play going on all around us, isn't there, dear one? 

Death is a thief, and has undeniably been very busy in his undertaking. The funeral homes are making a killing and believe me when I tell you, I am not being facetious or making a joke, of an incredibly serious matter. Funeral parlours are raking in cash spent on preparing human bodies for burial or urn: money is changing hands for the disposal of said humans, many of which have died unnaturally. Gone are the days of a life well lived, a body wonderfully worn out from godly work. Aging gracefully is an old fashioned concept, and what we are facing, straight ahead, is an unrelenting parade of death on display in all its horrors and nightmarishness. 

I dare to attribute the outrageous number of deaths we are witnessing to murder, or unwitting, unconscious suicide. The masses took into their bodies what ought never to be mixed with wonderful, rich, oxygenated, organic blood. God formed man, and the devils minions aim to undo holy handiwork by influencing humans to do what must not be done. 

Poison is maiming

Poison is killing

Death is either slow and painful, or sudden and seemingly unexpected

Alas, we must pray, and pray some more, because when we are counted as righteous, our prayers availeth much. Since nature has a way of holding us accountable for our choices, we must lean on the understanding that only God can override his divinely guided system of order. 

What is happening is happening to all of us. Death hits the heart because of its gravity and the seriousness of its permanency. Death is not to be trifled with or treated lightly, and yet, when we have hope and faith that we will spend eternity with our Maker, the sting is lessened, and we can dream of a day of reunion with those that went before us that knew the living God whilst they walked the earth. 

Do I want to reconcile, and become accustomed, to putting on funeral clothes? Will I callous my own heart to the concept of humans being wiped from the face of the earth in droves, as though they were insects to be sprayed, zapped, annihilated, and swept into a hole in the ground and covered over to be forgotten? Will I see the day when a siren doesn't have me imagining the worst, or a raucous cough doesn't start my heart beating faster with concern? Will I feel less and less as more and more death becomes commonplace... will you, dear one?

I share because I experience, and for no other reason I suppose, then to let you know that if you are seeing, hearing, feeling what I have expressed here, you are not alone. We are not alone... 

Jesus conquered death. He rose from the grave but before he did this, he died willingly on a cross, giving up his spirit. You and I do not have the option of giving up our spirit because it does not belong to us, and never has. Your life, my life, is not our own and when the end comes, we will not be consulted and given a choice. Going, when called to the cash out counter, is not optional. When our "number is up", we will without choice, relinquish what God owns. 

If you have read what I have written, you have a choice, and it has always been there. You can praise God for your existence, thank him for his mercy and loving kindness. You can appreciate the life you have lived and accept the fact that but for God, you would not be. If it weren't for him, dear one, I wouldn't have the pleasure of your acquaintance, here and now as we share thoughts and feelings. 

Death beds are the most honest places in the world. Dying is the most vulnerable state of being. You cannot save yourself, and you cannot save another from death, but who you are when you breathe your last, speaks into your forever.

The funeral today has a sweet savour of life after death. A soul left its earthly tent, and translated into a new existence in the presence of God. This is a hope, this is a prayer, this is an expectation, for those that love and live for the Lord.

Is this, you?