Last week, I picked up a copy of Jars of Clay's newest CD, "Good Monsters". Jars of Clay is my all-time favorite music group; I've followed them since their first CD. I love the style of music and I love their lyrics, and in my opinion their new CD does not disappoint!
One song on this album really jumped out at me. Recently, I've been thinking about our own mortality. First, the tragic accident in Indiana which claimed the lives of 4 Taylor students - all about the same age as me. Then, more recently, the unexpected death of the Crocodile Hunter. When you're young and at the beginning of your life, it seems that death is so far away. We seem invincible, immortal. However, our lives are fragile and we should realize that each day we live is our last. Not to be depressing, but realistic. I have so many thoughts about this subject, but right now I'd like to touch on one: the role of the mourner, the one left behind. When I found out about those two separate incidents, I mourned deeply for the loss of life and for the pain of those who were dear to the deceased. However, I kept forgetting the joy that must be accompanied by a soul returned to Christ! (In the case of the Taylor students, who were all born-again Christians - I do not know where Steve Irwin stood in his relationship with God; that is not for me to know or speculate.) So rather, it is not a "loss of life", but just a transferring from earth to the final Home of Heaven. And the joy comes in that not only do they have the sweet pleasure of seeing Jesus face-to-face, but I also will see them again when it's my turn to go Home! Just some thoughts of mine, right now.
All My Tears, by Jars Of Clay
When I go, don't cry for me
In my Father's arms I'll be
The wounds this world left on my soul
Will all be healed and I'll be whole.
Sun and moon will be replaced
With the light of Jesus' face
And I will not be ashamed
For my Savior knows my name.
It don't matter where you bury me,
I'll be home and I'll be free.
It don't matter where I lay,
All my tears be washed away.
Gold and silver blind the eye
Temporary riches lie
Come and eat from heaven's store,
Come and drink, and thirst no more
So, weep not for me my friends,
When my time below does end
For my life belongs to Him
Who will raise the dead again.