凡临到众人的事都是一样：义人和恶人都遭遇一样的事；好人、洁净人和不洁净人，献祭的与不献祭的，也是一样。好人如何，罪人也如何；起誓的如何，怕起誓的也如何。在日光之下所行的一切事上，有一件祸患，就是众人所遭遇的都是一样。并且世人的心充满了恶，活着的时候心里狂妄，后来就归死人那里去了。与一切活人相连的，那人还有指望，因为活着的狗比死了的狮子更强。活着的人知道必死，死了的人毫无所知，也不再得赏赐，他们的名无人记念。他们的爱、他们的恨、他们的嫉妒早都消灭了，在日光之下所行的一切事上，他们永不再有份了。（传道书9章2-6节）
我又转念，见日光之下，快跑的未必能赢，力战的未必得胜，智慧的未必得粮食，明哲的未必得资财，灵巧的未必得喜悦，所临到众人的，是在乎当时的机会。原来人也不知道自己的定期：鱼被恶网圈住，鸟被网罗捉住，祸患忽然临到的时候，世人陷在其中，也是如此。（传道书9章11-12节）
所以我告诉你们，不要为生命忧虑吃什么，喝什么；为身体忧虑穿什么。生命不胜于饮食吗？身体不胜于衣裳吗？ 你们看那天上的飞鸟，也不种，也不收，也不积蓄在仓里，你们的天父尚且养活它。你们不比飞鸟贵重得多吗？ 你们哪一个能用思虑使寿数多加一刻呢？ 何必为衣裳忧虑呢？你想野地里的百合花怎么长起来；它也不劳苦，也不纺线。 然而我告诉你们，就是所罗门极荣华的时候，他所穿戴的，还不如这花一朵呢！ 你们这小信的人哪！野地里的草今天还在，明天就丢在炉里， 神还给它这样的妆饰，何况你们呢！所以，不要忧虑说，吃什么？喝什么？穿什么？ 这都是外邦人所求的。你们需用的这一切东西，你们的天父是知道的。 你们要先求他的国和他的义，这些东西都要加给你们了。 所以，不要为明天忧虑，因为明天自有明天的忧虑；一天的难处一天当就够了。（马太福音6章25-24节）
Below is the English Translation generated by Google Gemini. I did not make any edits based on the translation.
Yesterday, an earthquake struck Myanmar. This morning, while washing up and doing my makeup, I had planned to listen leisurely to the news. I was preparing for a day out for Spanish food with friends, mentally mapping out which coffee shop to visit afterward. I thought about the warming weather, what I should wear, and reminded myself to pack away my winter clothes and bring out my spring/summer wardrobe—making sure to leave enough time for laundry.
But the radio announced that the earthquake had hit Myanmar on Friday. Hearing this, my hand holding the powder compact froze. A wave of lingering fear washed over me.
A family member of mine had just returned from Myanmar on Thursday. In the span of a single day, the Myanmar of yesterday seemed to have suddenly become ancient history, severed from the Myanmar of today. A week ago, our family gathered over the phone to pray for her trip. At that time, our greatest concern was the news about scams in the region. We repeatedly reminded her not to go out alone, to ensure someone was always accompanying her, to have pre-arranged pickups from the airport to the hotel, and to report her location at all times.
A day ago, Myanmar was a place of concern due to man-made chaos; a day later, regardless of whether one was alone or accompanied, had she not boarded that plane the day before, she might have been one of the thousands buried by a natural disaster. Calamity falls upon everyone equally, often in the most unexpected ways. One moment, someone might be making a scam call; the next, they are buried under the rubble along with their phone.
That is the nature of natural disasters. We narrowly escaped this time, but who knows when it will be our turn? Today, I can still stand here leisurely planning the rest of my day, while some people in this world suddenly found themselves without even a “next second.” Usually, when I hear news of such disasters, I pause briefly in my busy life, say a few words of prayer, and offer a token of sympathy. But because it feels so far away, to be honest, it is hard to truly empathize. It’s hard to say how much of those prayers are sincere and how much are just for show. But this time, I felt choked—lost in a mix of sadness and relief. I am relieved my family member escaped, yet that very relief brings out a profound sadness.
My family member escaped, but what about those who didn’t? What about their families? I can feel relieved, but they can only weep. And what if my relative had left a day later? What if she had been in the city at the epicenter? Previously, when I saw news of disasters claiming hundreds or thousands of lives, the death toll struck me more as a macro-statistic. Now, the thought that this number could have nearly included my own family makes the figure suffocating.
Death is fair. No matter how rich or poor, how learned or ignorant, how successful or ordinary you are, there will come a day when everything in this world will have nothing to do with you. We might escape one disaster, but no one escapes the inevitable arrival of death. From the moment we are born, we walk toward our graves every second until we become one with them.
When I was about seven years old, a relative of mine fell seriously ill. I was attending a boarding primary school then. One night during evening self-study, listening to the sound of pages turning and the breathing of my classmates, I looked out the window. Looking back, there was nothing special about that night; I was likely just tired of homework and glanced out. The night was pitch black—no streetlights, nothing visible outside. Only the reflection of the fluorescent tubes in the classroom overlapped with the darkness on the windowpane, and the blurry silhouettes of students were scattered in the dark. I only remember that the lights were too white, the glow too cold, and the night too black.
Suddenly, a thought rushed into my mind: Is this what happens after we die? From falling ill, to being buried in the earth, to the body slowly turning into bone—from existence to non-existence, from consciousness to its dissipation—do we become that unlit darkness? All living people are like us in this classroom, and the dead are like the night outside the window. No matter how dark the night is, it cannot soak into the lit classroom. No matter how bright the lights are, they cannot help us see what lies in the darkness. As someone living, I can never know what death is like, and the dead can never return to the world of the living.
The living can continue to turn pages, do homework, and whisper to friends. The dead are frozen in the night, unable to feel anything or participate in anything we do in the light. I was young then and couldn’t grasp complex philosophy, but I remember fear seeping into every part of me. I feared the void, the erasure of my existence, the inevitability of becoming bones. I feared that my friends would still be playing while I slowly rotted until I was forgotten by everyone. Even if I lived on in someone’s memory, I would still cease to exist.
This fear has accompanied my growth to varying degrees, only fading significantly after I became a Christian. Since then, whenever I reflect on life and death, I turn to the Book of Ecclesiastes—a book about the vanity of life and its meaning. Every time I read it, regardless of the reason, I gain something. It makes me ask myself if I have forgotten what is truly important. As a tiny speck in the river of eternity, someone who is alive today but might not exist tomorrow, what am I actually worrying about right now?
“It is the same for all, since the same event happens to the righteous and the wicked, to the good and the evil, to the clean and the unclean, to him who sacrifices and him who does not sacrifice. As the good one is, so is the sinner, and he who swears is as he who shuns an oath. This is an evil in all that is done under the sun, that the same event happens to all. Also, the hearts of the children of man are full of evil, and madness is in their hearts while they live, and after that they go to the dead. But he who is joined with all the1 living has hope, for a living dog is better than a dead 2lion. For the living know that they will die, but the dead know nothing, and they have no more reward, for the memory of them is forgotten. Their love and their hate and their envy have already perished, and forever they have no more share in all that is done under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes 9:2-6)
“Again I saw that under the sun the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to those with knowledge, but time and chance happen to them all. For man does not know his time. Like fish that are taken in an evil net, and like birds that are caught3 in a snare, so 4the children of man are snared at an evil time, when it suddenly falls upon them.” (Ecclesiastes 9:11-12)
While eating today, listening to my friends discuss visa issues and future plans, I was still feeling anxious about my own somewhat bleak situation and uncertain future. Watching friends and family get engaged or married, I wondered: Should I also rush into a relationship? Am I satisfied with this “stuck” reality? If I were to return to dust in the next moment, how would I evaluate the life I have lived?
Whether driven by ambition or insecurity, I am always chasing things that bring temporary fame or fortune—things I cannot take with me after death. I want more money, a better job, a healthier body, a successful boyfriend, fame, respect, and to be a “somebody.” This list isn’t inherently bad or wrong—many of these things are important—but when I prioritize these desires above all else, anxiety consumes me. The gap between expectation and reality suffocates me, and I end up defining my life’s value by this narrow checklist, fearing a mediocre life while resigning myself to my own perceived inadequacies.
But every time I am forced by reality to contemplate life and death, I have to take out this “Life Achievement List” that tortures me and ask: How should these worldly things be ranked? Where do I put God? Are my desires aligned with what is pleasing to Him? Which do I want more: the rewards of this world or the rewards of Heaven? When I stand face-to-face with God after death, will I hear Him say, “Well done, my good and faithful servant”?
Beyond questioning myself, I also worry for those I love. I have been a believer for ten years, and while my fear of my own death has lessened, the fear of losing loved ones has grown. I firmly believe my faith is true—but what does that truth mean for my family and friends who do not share it? Sometimes I dare not think further, yet I must.
Perhaps we have accepted that birth, aging, sickness, and death are “normal.” But what if they aren’t? What if eternity was our original intent, and death is the abnormality? If eternity was etched into our hearts from the beginning, wouldn’t that explain our craving for it? Just as a diamond represents eternal love—even though we know death will separate us—we still enter into marriage because of love.
The most precious treasure I have found in life is the Lord’s salvation, so I long to share this treasure of eternity with those I never want to be parted from. It is hard to do my own part well, and hard to consistently pray for those around me. I only ask God for the strength to persist, believing that if I take one step, He will take the remaining ninety-nine.
I have asked more questions here than I can provide answers for. I’m not sure if I’ve vented negative emotions or just made my mind more cluttered. Now that this is written, I must go back to planning my schedule. I don’t know whether to laugh at myself or let myself off the hook—what is the difference between me before and after writing this? I’ve gained some reflection, but I will ultimately return to a daily life of planning and worrying. I still want the things I want, and I still pay the price for my pride.
My only hope is that next time I think about life and death, I can feel more peace and less heaviness. I hope I can ask: Am I closer to God? Is my relationship with Him tighter? Have I placed Him above all else, even if only for a few minutes? Have I frequently placed those around me in my prayers, sincerely asking for their eternity?
We come from dust, and to dust we shall return. I thank the Lord for every extra moment I stay in this world. I hope to cherish every coming day as if my life could end at any time. Through these reflections, I pray for all those suffering in Myanmar and their families—may they one day find peace in the Lord. I also pray for my loved ones—may eternity be with everyone.
Finally, I leave you with a passage that always encourages and comforts me when I am anxious. I hope it comforts you too:
“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? … But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” (Matthew 6:25-34)
