“You will be like an oak with fading leaves, like a garden without water.”
“From the moment we are born, we begin to die.”-Jane Teller
Everything runs out. There are finite amounts of gold, of silver, of water. We recycle to conserve things because we use so much, we consume so much, we throw away so much, we waste so much.
Even the sun will eventually run out, that big machine in the sky, is finite.
We run out too. We slow down the older we get, our sight slows down, from sharp, to slowed, to fuzzy, to dim. Our legs go from fast and firm, to strong and secure, to shaky and slowed, bowed and bent. Our thoughts go from sharp and clear, to forgetful and jumbled, quick to slow, new and focused to remembering and forgetting, forgetting and remembering.
We don't want things to run out. We want our lives, our children, our good times, to stand still, we take pictures, we post memories, we linger in the moment to capture it and keep it.
When things run out we mourn them. We want to go back, relive it, experience it again, talk about it and refresh the browser of our lives so we can see it, feel it, taste it, just once more.
The universe is winding down. Once the dirty virus of sin got released everything started to crack and fade, ever so slowly. It's been a downhill process ever since and it's coming to an end. I don't know when it will end but I do know that whether it be 1 year from now or 1,000 it will happen.
I do know one thing. One thing I anchor my concerns to consistently. Jesus Christ is a Creator that is taking the run down and the thrown away, the discarded and the forgotten. He is brushing them off and stitching them back together, He is remaking them, remaking them and calling them His very own. He is providing them love and inviting them to stay. I'm so glad he remade me.
Revelation 21:5b, “...Behold I make all things new”