Where Will You Go?
I haven't even turned on my TV today. I've been sitting on my couch since my early arrival from work. Still. Numb. Death has never been something that frightened me, but it's also never been something I wanted to be desensitized to. Nothing I wanted to get familiar with.
I lost my first friend in 2005. As I posted a rest in peace tribute to her on my Myspace page I couldn't stop from crying. Waterworks flowed uncontrollably as I locked myself in my room and played every sad song I could find. I lost another friend, an aunt and a hand full of others since then. Nowadays I can barely shed a tear.
It's still sad, though. The pain is still real. The shock and the disbelief still reign. And I'm still here. On the couch. With the TV off. Numb. Because another one of my peers has died. Another one gone. Another one 'taken home', too soon.
This is the second in one week.
So another week I spend, comforting friends who were very close to him and trying to recite biblical scripture to ease their pain. That rarely works. Another night I'll sit up praying for those around me and for the protection of another soul. Another moment I'll think to myself how we're just so young; too young for death.
Now, instead of starting on this project that I promised I'd do tonight, I'm sitting on this comfy grey couch. With the TV off. Numb. And reflecting. And grateful. And blessed. And appreciative.
And trying to figure out how the heck I'm going to make my life count before my untimely demise.
Because life is incredibly short. And I refuse to waste it worrying about people's opinions and stressing about the financial issues I don't even have. I refuse to spend my time at parties that I barely remember and having arguments that aren't even worth words. I refuse to be forced to foster associations with people that don't even know the proper pronunciation of my name. I refuse to live hoping for acceptance from people who probably won't ever care about me or what I'm doing.
At the end of this very short life, the only person we have to answer to is Christ. We have to humbly come before Him with our imperfections and show to Him what we've done with our time.
"You were down there all those years and all you did was party and bicker? Did you at least do what I assigned you to?"
At the end of it all, when our family and friends are sitting on their couches, with the TV off, numb, we have to prove ourselves worthy of entering the kingdom of God. We'll be held accountable for the sins we didn't repent from and our purpose that we threw by the waste-side.
So when it's your time...what will He say? Because he certainly won't be reading your Facebook wall or Twitter mentions to see what others thought of you. He won't be trying to read your text messages or InstaDMs to see how you interacted with others. He'll be looking at you, without your nicely toned arms and lean body. You, without your short hair cut, or your 26" weave. You without the mani/pedi and the latest threads.
It'll be you in your rawest form, answering to Him. With no other opinions and no one else's validation. It'll be a recollection of your love for Him, your acceptance of Him as your savior, your obedience and the fulfillment of your purpose. It'll be a toss between "well done my good and faithful servant" (Matthew 25:21) and "I don't know you or where you come from" (Luke 13:25).
But until then, I'll be here. On this couch. With the TV off. Numb. Watching all these bodies being buried.
Trying to figure out how the heck I'm going to make my life count before my untimely demise.