As I set my navigation system for my commute to work in early October of 2022, it rerouted me differently. I thought it was tripping, so I reset it, only to get the same alternate route again. After the third time, I realized something was happening, and maybe I needed to heed what it suggested. As I drove the alternate route, I thought it might be highway construction; it was 2:30 am. What else could it be? Sadly, I later learned that an intoxicated, wrong-way driver caused an accident that killed a Dallas police officer driving into work. And while my thoughts and prayers went out to the family and others, the most solemn thing for me was the following day. I again set my navigation system and drove my regular commute. Just twenty-four hours ago, this road was shut down, marked, taped off, and filled with first responders and news crews; traffic was backed up and had to be rerouted. Now it’s reopened, and thousands of cars are commuting as if nothing happened.
As I pondered this, I thought about life. James 4:14b (NKJV) states, “For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time and then vanishes away.” All of us will one day die; those left will mourn, cry, grieve, but eventually life will move on without us. Everything we’ve done will become memories. And during those moments, we will want the world to stop, but it won’t because it can’t. Life is a vapor; here for a moment, and then it’s gone. You might feel that this is unfair. You might think you will never find the strength to move forward, but you must because the road reopens. It always does.
