Random Thoughts · Uncategorized

One Hundred Fifty-One Thousand, Six Hundred

That’s the 2011 estimate of how many people die each day. Considering the dramatic increase in world population in the last seven years, I wouldn’t be surprised to see that the daily death toll has reached or will soon reach 200,000.

As of 2011 the global average was such that an estimated 2 people died every second. A few weeks ago I wrote a handful of unpublished pages chronicling the life of one of those people. Because on that day it struck me how little I actively care about the two people dying every second. And get this, if these estimates are accurate then somewhere around 400 people have died since I typed the headline for this article.

Intellectually that bothers me very much. I’m reminded how broken this world is. I’m reminded of the reality that death is supposed to bother us very much but until it strikes close to home it bothers us very little.

And that’s represented nowhere more clearly than my own heart. Because while I am bothered “intellectually” by these astronomical numbers, in complete honesty I care more about my next cup of coffee. I’m not exaggerating.

Like I said this world is broken. But it’s broken because we are broken. Obama famously said crime is in the streets. But we don’t persecute the streets. We pave them. We persecute the people because even when we refuse to accept personal responsibility for the state of things, we really are the problem – and we know it.

No matter how much we advance our science and technology, with determination death continues dominating us. More crops. More medicine. More health. More books. More policy. And still, more death.

When does it stop? No one knows. Plenty of people have theories and I think some are more credible than others (no, I don’t think we will upload ourselves into super computers, but I wouldn’t entirely mind that. Get it… MIND that?). I think the Christian message has the best explanation for why we die. And it makes the most sense of why we who live feel what we feel when others die. And it offers the best solution to bringing this to an end.

All my eggs are in that basket and I’m fine with it. It seems like a pretty nice basket (probably wicker). If anything from this article is clear it’s that both you and I will be dead relatively soon. I suppose I’m just wondering, where do you put your eggs?

Don’t say the fridge!


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