...... But we all die someday.

I'm lying on the hard floor, reading of India by the blazing woodstove. The narrative weaves in and out of modern day India, then moves onto the problems faced by a society if they want to keep growing(in a positive manner). Indians seem full of hope and passion that they can change their situation, collectively. I listen to the language of subtle deception; one that preaches hope, one that preaches success, one that promises a better life- one with more ease, one that proclaims people can indeed be lifted out of poverty. But they speak in the language of ethics, they speak in the verbiage of 'prosperity' for all. They speak in statistics and societies and governments. This seems to be a fairly common language for us all, evidently. ...but then the candle is snuffed out, the smoke goes in trails through the air, and I hear words in the silence:

"...but we all die someday"

The dialogue continues, I feel my heart start to contract, in despair I want someone to realize, I want someone to not be disillusioned. I want someone to realize what all this subtle language implies. I want someone to not ignore the fact that we are all of us, while living, hurtling toward death.
I am not negating the importance of some of these things.
What I am saying is that there is a lack.

We speak in technical terms and goals.

But we don't speak in tears and compassion and brokenness and real hope.

We don't speak in the language of love.


We only speak in the language of a fixed world. A better "us" and more comfort and ease.

....but we all die someday.

And really, all this, is it just to provide our own distraction, just to ease the boredom of days gone by and keep our eyes flitting to and fro, but never for one moment contemplating the thought that we are all taking slow and involuntary footsteps toward death? Or the consequences of what this means in relation to the life we live?


I will say it again:

someday I die.

If I don't learn to love like Jesus what else is there?