“David, after he had served the purpose of God in his own generation, fell asleep and was laid with his fathers…” (Acts 13:36).
 
Some years ago our boys and I spent a week on an abandoned backcountry ranch on the Salmon River. One day, exploring the old homestead, I came across an ancient grave with a weathered, wooden marker. The marker bore an inscription enshrining the name of a man named James Moore, an early resident of the ranch no doubt, now "laid with his fathers" and long forgotten, lost to the next generation.
 
Someone—I think it was Tolstoy—said the best of us are remembered for a hundred years or so. The rest of us are soon forgotten. What are our markers, I thought, but monuments to the forgetfulness of the living. Memories of us, like our memorials, fade away.

But no matter. May we, like David, serve the purposes of God in our generation—and leave the remembering to Him!

DHR