Boom.

So on Wednesday, I survived an explosion.

Alright to be fair, it was less of an explosion and more of a sudden mid-sized flame that came up from the sewers as I drove by. But all the same, I'll call it an explosion to give myself some bragging rights...perhaps add some flying debris to the story the next time I tell it. All the same, I felt the impact of the blow as I drove by in my little Fit, and had to stop my car since I thought I had hit something/someone. There was a flame blazing on the sidewalk and I paused for a while to watch, but I soon continued to drive since I was afraid to be late for my test (yeah I know leave me alone). Later that day, I mentioned what had happened to my mom and she was shocked, telling me that the entire street was blocked off for the better part of the day. She gave me a hug. "That was a close one."

The fragility of human life is something that I try not to think about. Being 20 years old, sickness and death are foreign concepts, and fearing for my life only happens in my nightmares. Being able to see my family whenever I wish is less of a luxury and more of a simple backdrop to the more pressing, but transient, matters in my mind. However, what happened on Wednesday got me thinking about death, and what it can teach me about life. When I felt my car shake from the burst of the fire, it took me a few seconds to realize what had happened. But there are places in this world where there would be no mistaking an explosion when it happens. There are places where improving their "quality of life" is rarely an issue because staying alive takes up all their time. I complain about having to take 2 tests a week for a couple of months, while people lose their loved ones everyday in unspeakably horrible ways.

Why am I given the grace to live with the luxury of peace and safety? But yet again, is that safety simply an illusion, born out of the lack of experiences of danger? It's a strange feeling when you realize that your life isn't predictable, controllable, or even guaranteed. I'm not sure what to do with that thought, since living in either paralyzed fear or listless apathy wouldn't do me any good. I know that I want my fleeting life to be bursting with love and adventure, and to experience the richness of both the heights and depths of the human spirit. In other words, I want my life to matter. (I know, profound isn't it?)

As I continued to follow my train of thought on the whole transience of existence and all, I suddenly realized that as a Christian, our point of view on death has been completely revolutionized. The crippling fear, the crushing grief, the finality of death has been the human condition since we decided to go about things on our own, rejecting God and His desire to protect us from ourselves. But Christ came and chose to walk straight into the darkness of a grave to end the consequences of our rebellion once and for all. Yes, life on this earth remains short and filled with pain and injustice. But it no longer has to be all we know. Not only did He draw us back to Him with the promise of an eternity spent by His side, our spirits are made alive in this life now and can commune with Perfection while still in an imperfect world. We're all running a race against time, but I know that my life remains in the hands of Him who gave it to me, and that I will remain in this race until my purpose has been completed.

There are still a million questions about life and death that I will never have the answer to. But because of what Jesus did, I can now live out my days fully confident that the songs I sing in this life will echo into the next.