Track with me for a minute…
I often get this recognition, this passing thought and sobering feeling– “I will never be here again.” It’s as if I’m watching from a step back, away from the noise of the moment and away from the moment itself so I can see the full picture. I remember watching this pass through my mind as a child. I remember sitting with friends and having the inexplicable idea that the time for our friendship was running out. I remember looking at my grandfather as he walked out the garage door of my house one afternoon after a visit and knowing (without actually knowing) that it was the last time I would ever see him. I also know that every time we do something kind for people, especially on the Race–like feeding them or building things for them or cleaning their house– I recognize the impermanence.
I think this is what the writer of Ecclesiastes was talking about. Everything is meaningless. It’s all just a passing moment. Every word, every work, and every day. It would be a depressive thought if not for the permanence of the promised eternal life with Jesus. As we have been building the dorm here for the kids camp, I can’t help but see the meaninglessness. The wood’s gonna rot from all the rain here. The kids could easily drop something or throw something and then there will be a wall to patch up. All the hard work of our today will be ruined by their tomorrow and what will we be left with? It’s annoying!
Then, I take the step back. I see the days the children will spend here learning about Jesus. I see that this will be a refuge for them away from homes that could be the root of any number of problems in their lives. I see the gratefulness of our hosts and how desperate they are to see more people reached by the Gospel. And, through it all, I can’t help but see Kingdom. In the grand scheme of it all, eternity is what we look to. Let the wood rot; the souls of these children will be nourished and fed. Let the walls fall apart; the Kingdom is being built here. Let the days wear away our hard work; it wasn’t about the work. It’s about “Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.”
Jesus doesn’t leave us in the meaninglessness, but, if we let him, he will draw us to his heart for all of us. When I let Him lead me there, He just always seems to bring the meaning. He’s faithful like that.
