The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand forever.
For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.
This will be short. I am aware of the irony of writing twice about Michael Jackson’s death, when my first note said that I found myself unmoved.
That’s still true. But I am fascinated by the attention it has been given, and I can’t resist.
One of the commentators said that his music would live “forever.” That’s a long time. Forever doesn’t belong to us. It belongs to God.
I was reminded of Percy Bysshe Shelley’s poem:
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:`
My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away".