Biceps follows someone on Instagram that makes him mad. According to him, “they are so good, so in shape, so muscular and so ridiculously strong” it makes him angry that he’s not on that level. As if Biceps could get any stronger or better looking.
My response to his instagram outburst this morning was: “They’re going to die, too.” A callous (but funny?) response, I know. There is no escaping death-unless you are Michael Jackson and you have yourself frozen, of course.
No matter what we do with our time, we will all meet an end. As my pastor has said, “We are houses of dirt.”
However, whether I’m Ms. Fitness or not (leaning more towards the “not”), I’m going to die and decay and rot. Muscles and fat and all.
I wash our clothes, wipe down sinks, do dishes, clean mirrors, mow our lawn, tend the garden, wash the van, sweep up more dust bunnies (and then clump them into one giant fur pile to gross out Biceps).
But, our house could be leveled by a tornado or even a sharknado tomorrow-and all my cleaning, decorating and obsessing would be back to square one.
I watch as the women I know work themselves into a frenzy-and I’m tempted to follow suit. My phone dings, rings and notifies me of something every two seconds. I am constantly “on call” as a realtor. My day doesn’t really end. I could make a little money with this job; or a lot of money and buy everything I’ve ever wanted and then what? I die?
If you have been storing your treasures here on earth-whether it’s a physically fit body, the perfectly clean showcase home, the awards and recognition from a job well done-I want to remind you that we are all made of dirt. We will all die and decay.
And then what?
“But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal.” Matthew 6:20