Nuclear Dust

I was having a discussion this afternoon with An Lus a' Chrom Chinn. She was somewhat depressed due to some medical problems she is having and the ever present ogre of "Further Testing" (medical jargonese for "We don't know") - I can say that somewhat flippantly only because I've never had to go through what must be a horrible sense of waiting and not knowing.

As part of the discussion, she began the questions that Lord knows I've asked from time to time: What's the point? Do I have anything to show for my life? Why am I here?

My comment back was that in reality, we all have that problem: it's only those who are directly faced with their mortality that have an awareness of it. The reality is, one could die leaving for work tomorrow morning and the same questions would be asked: What was the point of their life - and death at a young age? Did they have anything to show for it? Why were they here, and why did they get taken so soon?

For myself, one of the greatest helps in this area has been samurai literature. The essence of bushido, at least as it was written about and taught (but not always practiced) is that one should be ready to die at any moment. If one is always ready to die, then all things that need to be said or done will already be taken care of, because one never knows the moment that death will coming calling.

I've become a lot more willing recently to speak up or write up about things. Why? Because I'm beginning to truly grasp that much of what we think matters doesn't really matter, while things that do matter greatly we allow to get buried or we keep waiting for "the right moment" - which may never come.

The other reason I am intimately familiar with this fear is what I do: essentially, prepare and review paperwork that, if everything goes well and correctly, will never ever be seen again. This was especially poignantly pointed out to me at my last job, where the day before I left I was filing records of training on SOPs that now may simply rot in a box in a storage unit somewhere because in five weeks, there may be no company. Believe me, there is nothing less encouraging about starting your day than knowing that all of your effort will be filed in the shred bin sooner or later.

Our lives are not the sum total of length lived, but of what we did to glorify God, advance His kingdom, and do the tasks He gave us to do.

The ironic thing is that so many spend their time on things that will not matter in eternity, on that great day that we will all someday face. I know that at that moment, no matter how much I try to do (as I should) to make God's name great and serve Him, there will always be that thought of "I should have done more of this or less of that." All the sensual pleasures, training records, money, fame, and cars will be blown away as dust after a nuclear explosion, and we will be left exposed to either the welcoming presence of a Loving Father saying "Welcome home, my child" or the presence of the Eternal Judge saying "Depart from me. I never knew you."

When you go to bed tonight, are you ready in good conscience to die?