Home Sweet Home
"Their graves are their homes forever, their dwelling places to all generations, though they called lands by their own names" —Psalm 49:11
A few years ago Carolyn and I bought two lots at Dry Creek
Cemetery, a wind-swept hill overlooking the city of Boise. One for me and one
for her. Mine is about 4’ wide and 8' long—32 square feet in all. I laid down
on it—much to Carolyn's chagrin—to see if I fit. I did. Just barely.
Some people acquire vast estates and some have continents
named after them, folks like Amerigo Vespucci, but the only piece of real
estate any of us will ever truly own is our grave. Not much to show for a
lifetime of effort.
That's the problem with a "this world"
perspective. No matter what you acquire or accomplish in this life you can't
take it with you. As Israel's poet put it, you die and "leave everything
to others" (49:10). This calls for "understanding” (49:3,20), an insight,
a perspective on reality: There is another dimension of reality, an unseen
realm in which earthly notions of the good life are irrelevant. This present
world is tangible but transient; the unseen world is forever and ever. It's
toward that invisible, eternal realm that our predominant thoughts, time and
energy ought to go. “Seek first the Kingdom of God,” Jesus said.
I'm reminded of a story I heard years ago about a stock
broker who encountered a genie and given the requisite wish. "A copy of
the Wall Street Journal one year hence," the man replied. Thereupon, paper
in hand, he turned to the market report for that day anticipating a killing.
But his eye fell first on his picture on the opposite page accompanied by his
obituary.
The killing he anticipated was his own.
David Roper
