Vapor

There is something intriguing about vapor.  It's there and then it is gone.  I never really thought about those sorts of things until I had a very inquistive 2 year old.  Explaining concepts like heaven, where the moon goes during the day and that hot dogs are not healthy, just tasty is a task that is easier said than done. 

This past week, our church lost a dear saint.  She was the type of person who always had a smile on her face and encouragement to offer.  She was a prayer warrior who lived a simple life.  She had a husband who loved her, children and grandchildren who adored her and a beautiful, bountiful garden that provided her with hours of joy.  Sitting at her funeral, listening to her eulogy, made me realize that there is really nothing more that a person could want in life.

This past week, America lost an icon.  Steve Jobs.  He was a brilliant man who changed the face of technology.  In just 56 years, he accomplished more than 56 people could do in a lifetime.  Although I do not know where Mr. Jobs is now spending his eternity, I do know that 56 years seems like a very short time here on earth.

Whether we have 56 years or 106 years to live, God's word assures us, that in the light of eternity, our life is a vapor.  James 4:14 states, "You do not know what your life will be like tomorrow.  You are just a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes away."

It is crazy to think that how we spend our time here on earth, an amount of time that is so short that it is compared to a vapor, determines how we spend eternity. 

After the funeral of our dear church saint, we drove two hours north for her to be buried next to her husband in a military cemetary.  As my husband led the graveside service inside the chapel, I sat with my sleeping baby and my never ending question asking Little E.  We watched as a truck hoisted the casket into a concrete container.  Another small truck, filled with dirt zipped up past the concrete container and then lead the way to the gravesite.  As family watched from the hillside above, the concrete container was lowered to the ground and covered with dirt.  There, amid several other graves, lay our friend's body. 

The tomb markers are identified by a name on the front and a number on the back.  A lifetime condensed into a name, a couple of dates with a dash and possibly a few words.  Since every tombstone looks the same, numbers are used to help visitors locate loved ones.  At the end of it all, we are a number.  No matter who we are or what we have done with our lives, none of us can stay here on earth for ever.  We may been different in many ways, but no matter how different we are from one another, we all will die.

Our friend may not have been famous like Steve Jobs, she may not have been a billionaire, but her contribution to this world, in her brief vapor of a life, is bigger than any technology tycoon's.  Why?  The answer is simple.  Her legacy does not change with lightening fast technology.  Her legacy was to love Christ and love others.  That, my friends, does not drift in only to be gone in the blink of an eye like a vapor.  Leaving a legacy for Christ and pointing others to Him will last for an eternity.