In reading war histories, I’ve often noticed writers mourning the loss of novelists and poets in battle. While little attention is paid to everyday people who also give their lives.
Why would the loss of novelists, poets and so forth in war be a greater tragedy than the average Joe or Jane’s? What novel would be so original that another hadn’t already covered the subject? What poem would be so striking that another hadn’t sung its song or rhymed its words? What engineer or doctor or sociologist, etc., etc., would produce information and answer questions not available to others in their field?
Most troublesome, how can we offer each other such affection and loathe God in Christ? To think mortals have more important instruction than God in his word? Can we have such faith in ourselves and so little in the Bible?
Can we possibly think that humans—who live 40 or 70 or 90 years—have access to mysteries of pre-history, life-purpose and destinies beyond the grave that God’s word denies us? That those majoring in the “arts” and “sciences” have insights known only to them?
Shall we continue mistaking everything humans think, do or produce as rivals and replacements of anything God says? As Shen Yun foolishly advertised, art was linking heaven and earth. That’s humanity’s view of life, death and the after-life. It’s all a spectacle, theatrical, musical, color, leaping over life in great strides. If we want it enough, and work hard enough to create life as we think it should be, IT IS.
IT ISN’T! Any beauty, grace or hope we create for this world may not exist in the next world. We don’t determine that. And the beauty, peace, forgiveness, ecstasy God promises comes only in his world. Never forget that. – Finis –