9.05.2004

Lessons from a Love Bug

College Station in under a plague of Love Bugs. Yes, those sexually inclined insects that fly about connected at the (insert noun here) with little regard for modesty or personal privacy. A walk through a parking lot shows the final fate of many, smashed against a grill; countless corpses clinging to the one they love. Recently while driving on the highway the smush of each bug was so frequent Ryan compared it to popcorn popping. But in the annoyance the popping spured a conversation. Before restating the progression of the converstion, thought, I'll start with a brief summary of a Love Bug's life. The Bug is born to two loving parents, but eagerly awaits the hour when he will leave the stagnant pond and rush into the rest of the world. Thankfully, this is only a few hours away. After waiting what seems like forever and now finally free to roam the world, the young insect finds love at first sight, and they stick together for the rest of their lives (which is only a mere two weeks). Then, tragdey strikes. In a mere instant, the insects' life is gone, plastered to a windshield and then washed into a drain at Five Star Car Wash. So here's the serious part. While me and Ryan were talking about this, he made the point that we aren't that much different from these bugs. Most people live a life of pleasure, not caring about anyone but themselves. As we look at these insects, we can see how futile their life is, ended by a 70 mile-per-hour splatter. No one cares about them. They're just bugs anyways. Now I'm not trying to make a statement about enviromental protection - I really don't care about the bugs. But if we look at the situation from God's standpoint, as a creature infinitly stronger and wiser than humankind could ever be, it seems like a good illustation of ourselves. After I die, people may remember me about 50 years. After that, photographs and memories will fade, erasing my exsitence to an inkspot on Social Security Records. Now, it's true that some people's memories last a little longer, say about Billy Idol or Ghandi or Alexander the Great, but at best their personallity and acomplishments are decided generations later by some archeanthropogeologist featured on the History Channel who specializes in making up little known facts. To really get something out of life we need to understand that we can't get anything out of this life. Solmon wrote all about that in Ecclesiastes. Everything is useless, like chasing after the wind. The only hope we have is in Jesus, who already took care of our goofups and will reward us for the good things we do. If I live my life for myself and don't invest time and effort into a relationship with God, I might as well be lifelessly stuck on a bumper with everyone else. Thankfully that's not the case.