From Dust to Dust
From dust we come, and to dust we return.
From dust to death.
I don’t really think about it – death.
Or rather, I don’t think about it for me. Not me.
It is what happens to others, you know . . . when they become frail, when doctors can no long keep their hearts beating, when their time is up. When their lives become too heavy to bear.
But, yes, you are right. Sometimes Death comes sooner– to soldiers, babies, lovers, and poets. Sometimes Death comes when our work isn’t finished, our bodies are still strong, our children still need us, our passions still drive us. And then Death – that despised intruder – robs families and fractures hearts. It drops us to our knees in a grief so blinding that we wish to never have lived.
From dust we come, and to dust we return. //
What, then, does life mean? What message can be read into the paltry tea leaves of our lives? What remains of our 40 years, or 60, or 80?
Only this: When death has done his worst, love remains. Love remains. Death has no power over love. It cannot prevent it, cannot erase it, cannot weaken it. “Neither death, nor life, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.” Because – perfect love is stronger than death.
To dust our bodies return, but to God our souls fly –attracted by that brilliant Love Force that knows no boundaries of space or time.
“Do not be afraid, I am the first and the last, and the living one. I was dead, and behold, I am alive for forever and ever. Because I live, you also will live.”
To perfect love we are drawn and there we live forever. Love never ends; it leaves no ashes. //
From God we come, and to God we return. Thanks be to God. AMEN