A few days ago I went to Shawnee Park in the Dunbar-Institute area.
Here's a picture that I snapped of the Indian burial mound.
From a burial mound, a cemetery, an archaeological dig or news coverage of a fatality we are reminded that death is the ultimate fate of life. No matter how far medical science advances—short of The Day of Resurrection and Judgment—we all will die.
I'm only in my mid-thirties but I realize the 20's are long gone; I'm approaching mid-life. Reality strikes us that we are mortal, something we've known but, with the addition of years, it becomes more somber a thought.
After the death of his friend, Lazarus, Jesus traveled to Bethany with his disciples. He first spoke with Lazarus' sister, Martha.
"Martha said to Jesus, 'Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask from God, God will give you.' Jesus said to her, 'Your brother will rise again.' Martha said to him, 'I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.' Jesus said to her, 'I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?' She said to him, 'Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God, who is coming into the world.'"
(John 11.21-27 ESV)
I'm glad I believe in Jesus. If I didn't then I have nothing to solace me as years pass.