My son Luke, known by some as U.S. Marine Corps Major Luke Parker, left this earth on November 27, 2013, at the age of 45. He left behind love and memories in the hearts of friends and family. He also left behind: a spanking new truck with all the extras; a WWII Jeep he restored; a two-story house near the beach; a Stetson hat and western boots and apparel; one of the last 19 remaining Focke Wulf airplanes in the world (which crashed with him), and even the Bible he carried with him everywhere—a tattered and underlined Bible that sits next to me at my desk.
At age 45, after achieving the rank of Major in the USMC, graduating from Stephen F. Austin, learning to pilot an airplane, and fathering a lovely and intelligent daughter—Luke left it all behind. Unexpectedly. Unplanned. Abruptly. In the blink of an eye, Luke passed from earth to heaven taking with him only the spirit that God breathed into him at his conception.
I see commercials on TV begging for funds to help people who have been traumatized by covid 19 and the resulting lockdowns. These traumatized people don’t need money, they need the assurance that comes only from God; that we are strangers and pilgrims passing through this world on our way to an eternal life where there will be no illness, no death, no pain, no sorrow, no suffering, no lack of any good thing.
They need to look around them at everything they own and realize that it is temporary. When they leave this earth, it won’t go with them. They will leave it all behind—just like Luke did.