Farrah Fawcett was 62. Michael Jackson was 50. My dad is turning 69 on Sunday, and just found out the growth that was removed from his voicebox Wednesday was cancer. The surgeon thinks he removed all of it, and the prognosis at this point is good. Radiation treatments will begin in a couple weeks after Dad’s throat has healed from the surgery.
Everyone knows the end will come, for our loved ones, for us. Yet it still manages to surprise us. We live like it will never happen, pushing the inevitable far to the back of our minds. And yet we will surely die. Are we ready? What number will we make it to? 96? 54? 33? 18? Who will rescue us from this body of death? We can have hope in Jesus who conquered death. He died to pay the penalty for our sins (to fulfill the requirements of justice), and rose from the grave to new life (so that we might have that life, too). He promises eternal life for all who believe in Him. There is hope in place of despair. Are you ready?