Transience

Need some perspective on the brevity of life? Here's a God's-eye view of the earth: Check out this real-time map of births and deaths around the world.

In 1950, there were 2.5 billion humans. As of January 2025, there are nearly 8.1 billion people. In another 30 years, according to U.S. Census Bureau projections, there will be more than 9 billion.

Brad Lyon has a doctoral degree in mathematics and does software development. He wanted to make those numbers visual. So, he and designer Bill Snebold made a hugely popular interactive simulation map of births and deaths in the U.S. alone (as of 2024, population 337 million)—the population of which is on pace to increase 44 percent by 2050.

Possible Preaching Angles:

Birth; Death; Life, short - How many people will die in the next minute? How many will be born? How should these numbers motivate us? Think of each of them as a story, as a unique soul loved infinitely by God. This is an excellent starting point for a sermon on Easter, resurrection, and our mortality. Consider projecting the real-time map as a stunning visual illustration.

For over two decades, a vibrant mural featuring "The Wizard of Oz" characters adorned Stead Park. Painted by local graffiti artists in 2001, it became a beloved landmark. However, last spring, a new group of artists replaced it with a whimsical scene of toy buildings and a toddler, symbolizing the neighborhood's evolving culture.

The transformation sparked controversy when Roger Gastman, one of the original muralists, sued Cory Stowers, the leader of the new team. Gastman claimed the new mural destroyed his original work, while Stowers argued that the old mural had deteriorated and needed repair. The dispute has reignited debates about ownership and creative control in street art, pitting preservation against evolution in the ever-changing landscape of graffiti.

The case is unique as it involves artists suing other artists over the alteration of building art, rather than building owners. Stowers, a prominent figure in D.C.'s graffiti scene, had secured funding and permission from the property owner to repaint the wall. However, Gastman, now well-known in the graffiti world, argues he wasn't consulted before the work was altered.

This conflict has raised concerns within the graffiti community about the future of murals and how artists navigate issues of ownership. It also highlights the tension between preserving artistic legacy and embracing the fluid nature of street art. As community member Renée Vara noted, "It's a shame that a beautiful collaboration has kind of come to this," encapsulating the mixed emotions surrounding the dispute.

Possible Preaching Angles:

1) Transformation; Renewal - The replacement of the old mural with a new one echoes biblical themes of transformation or the idea of a new creation; 2) Conflict between generations: The dispute between the original artist and the new group mirrors biblical stories of generational conflict, like Jacob and Esau or Joseph and his brothers; 3) Stewardship and responsibility - The debate over who has the right to alter the mural reflects biblical themes of stewardship and responsibility for God’s creation. 4) Legacy - Gastman's desire to preserve his artistic legacy echoes biblical themes of leaving a lasting impact and honoring one's legacy.

By the time they have turned eighteen, most Americans will have moved at least twice. Most thirty-year-olds will have moved six times. By the end of our lives, most of us will have pushed that number up to eleven. This highly mobile way of life is mirrored in our career habits as well.

The average American worker holds ten different jobs before the age of forty, and this job transience is only expected to increase in the years ahead. Add to these the slew of life changes such as college or vocational training, marriage, and having children, and it becomes clear how many different phases our lives actually have. For all of us there is only one thing that remains the same—the fact that nothing does.

A psychologist at New York University wondered if young adults were not saving money for the future because they felt like they were putting it away for a stranger. So, Hal Ersner-Hershfield conducted an experiment, giving some college students a real mirror and others virtual reality goggles where, with the help of special effects like those used in movies, they could see a future version of themselves at age 68 or 70.

Those who saw the older version of themselves in the virtual “mirror” were willing to put more than twice as much money into their retirement accounts as the students who spent time looking at their younger selves in a real mirror. What’s more, those who glimpsed their future selves were more likely to complete their studies on time, whereas those who didn’t were more likely to blow off their studies. Those who saw their future selves were also more likely to act ethically in business scenarios.

Possible Preaching Angle:

As followers of Jesus, when we catch a vision for who we might become in the future, we can begin to live as that person now. When we can imagine ourselves in both our temporal future and our eternal future, we can be inspired toward holiness in our day-to-day lives.

In his new book, Jeff Meyers writes:

Human institutions are impor­tant, but they don't last forever. Human institutions, not just our individual lives, are more frag­ile than we realize. Even the most powerful human institutions can falter and die.

Of the 500 largest companies in 1955, only sixty remained on the Fortune 500 list in 2017. Have you heard of American Motors, Brown Shoe, Studebaker, Collins Radio, or Zenith Electronics lately? In 1955, they were among America's most popular brands. They no longer exist.

Now the most well-known companies are Tesla, Amazon, Facebook, Microsoft, Google, and Netflix. Only one of the founders of these six companies was even alive in 1955 (Bill Gates of Microsoft was born in October of that year). Someday we'll likely look back on these massive brands with nostalgia. I imagine my children someday pulling their children close and saying, "When I was a kid, we had this thing called Facebook.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

How do we find meaning in a fleeting life? We must not look to human institutions. Only in God do we find what is lasting and secure. Second Corinthians 4:18 says, "We look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." What we see is not all there is.

People can’t say goodbye anymore,” writes the poet Les Murray. “They say last hellos.”

In his book A Severe Mercy, Sheldon Vanauken tells the story of his last meeting with C. S. Lewis, who had become a friend. The two men ate lunch together, and when they had finished, Lewis said, “At all events, we’ll certainly meet again, here—or there.” Then he added: “I shan’t say goodbye. We’ll meet again.” And with that, they shook hands and parted ways. From across the street, above the din of traffic, Lewis shouted, “Besides, Christians never say goodbye!”

Avoiding goodbye when we have to move on and face the prospect of never seeing each other again in this life denies the importance of our bodily life together. Brushing over “farewell” denies that the pain of separation is real—that no matter how many texts or phone calls or Facebook updates we share, we won’t be available for each other in the same way anymore.

The word “goodbye” is actually a contraction of “God be with you.” Saying goodbye is important, in the end, because it’s one way of reminding each other that we are God’s bodily creatures. We want him to watch over us and keep our love for one another alive, right now, even before the day of our eventual reunion.

At one point in time, you couldn’t walk 30 feet on a New York City block without encountering a pay phone. In the early 2000s, there were around 30,000 public street pay phones registered with the city. But in May of 2022, a curious crowd gathered in Times Square as a power saw cut through the base of a pay phone on the corner of Seventh Avenue and 50th Street. That was the final New York City public pay telephone.

In the age of the smartphone, it may be hard to recall the importance of pay phones in the daily life of New Yorkers. New York is a dense, pedestrian city. It wasn’t until the 1940s that even half of Americans had a phone. If you need to make a call on the go, the pay phone was really necessary.

“I hate to use the word nostalgia,” said Mark Thomas, who has been documenting pay phones in New York City. “But I think people miss a period of time when a call meant something. When you planned it and you thought about it, and you took a deep breath and you put your quarter in.”

New York City’s chief technology officer explained the need for the change: “Just like we transitioned from the horse and buggy to the automobile, and from the automobile to the airplane to the digital evolution has progressed from pay phones to high-speed Wi-Fi kiosks to meet the demands of our rapidly changing daily communications needs.”

Possible Preaching Angles:

(1) Communication—No matter how much the forms of communication change, human beings (friends, spouses, parents, church members) will always have a need to communicate. And God will always have a way to communicate with us. (2) Change—Shows that not all change is bad. Some changes are inevitable, even when they come with losses.

Dust goes unnoticed, for the most part. It surrounds us, but unless we work in construction, we hardly ever see it. When we do, it is usually because we are trying to Swiffer it up or sweep it away. Although we are continually touching and inhaling a cocktail of hairs, pollens, fibers, mites, and skin cells, we try not to think about it.

Dust speaks of decay. It comes about through the decomposition of other things, whether animal, vegetable, or mineral. Dust in a home means our cells have died recently. Ghost towns and postapocalyptic movies are covered in it, highlighting the loss not just of creatures or structures but of civilization itself. And God says: “You are made of that.”

It doesn’t sound very encouraging. Being dust-people means that one day we will be dead people. When humanity fell in the Garden, the resulting curse—“for dust you are and to dust you will return” (Gen. 3:19)—clearly referred to mortality.

We may find it liberating, unsettling, or terrifying to contemplate, but one day our cells will be swirling in the autumn leaves, wedged between sofa cushions, and hidden behind radiators. The same is true of the world’s most powerful and influential people … even our apparently invincible empires will finally turn to dust. So will we.

But only for a while. One day, Paul says, we will no longer be modeled after the man of dust who came out of the soil, but after the man of heaven who came out of the tomb (1 Cor. 15:49).

Creating the character called “Bruce Springsteen” has been a 50-year project for Bruce Springsteen, and an immensely successful one. But at 71, the man himself faces the same truth facing all of us, the one from which no amount of celebrity can protect him.

As a teenager, Springsteen was a member of a rock band, the Castiles. In a new documentary, Bruce Springsteen: Letter to You, he notes with a combination of sadness and resignation, that he is now the only living member of the quintet. Springsteen says at the end of the film, “What can I say? We’re taking this thing till we’re all in a box.”

He says age brings the clarity of standing on the train tracks at midnight, staring at the lights of an oncoming train:

It dawns on you rather quickly, there’s only so much time left. Only so many star-filled nights, snowfalls, brisk fall afternoons, rainy midsummer days. So how you conduct yourself and do your work matters. How you treat your friends, your family, your lover. On good days, a blessing falls over you. ... You stumble into those moments … and you realize how lucky you are, lucky to be alive, lucky to be breathing in this world of beauty, horror and hope. ... Go, and may God bless you.

Springsteen leaves us with a sense that this might be it for him. His valedictory tone suggest he is aware more than ever before that any day could be his last. There’s a scene of him saying goodbye to his band. “Someday we will close our eyes and the gray evening sky will unfold above us, bringing that long and endless sleep.” Even a “rock god” must bow to mortality.

In his book The Body: A Guide for Occupants, Bill Bryson takes readers on a head-to-toe tour of the marvel that is the human anatomy. Starting from the outside and moving in, Bryson begins by describing the largest organ of the human body, the skin. His description is telling:

The skin consists of an inner layer called the dermis and an outer epidermis. The outermost surface of the epidermis is made up entirely of dead cells. It is an arresting thought that all that makes you lovely is deceased. Where body meets air, we are all cadavers.

He then concludes:

These outer skin cells are replaced every month. We shed skin copiously, almost carelessly: some twenty-five thousand flakes a minute, over a million pieces every hour. Run a finger along a dusty shelf, and you are in large part clearing a path through fragments of your former self. Silently and remorselessly we turn to dust.

For many artists, part of the joy of creating beautiful artwork is that others can continue to experience it for years to come. However, this could not be further from the truth for Calvin Seibert, a New York artist who makes art out of a rather "impermanent" material-sand.

Although the materials with which he works may be commonplace, the artist's finished works of grand, majestically intricate sandcastles are far from ordinary. Seibert has been crafting his sandcastle masterpieces since he was a child, but for some reason doesn't seem to mind their short lifespans. "It could collapse right now," he told journalists. "You gotta be [okay with it]." He doesn't even do anything to try to make money from them. "I want to do something all the time and be creative," he said. "And if nobody ever knew about it, I'd still be building a sandcastle."

Potential Preaching Angles: We may often be reminded of how small and fragile our earthly bodies are in this life, but God promises that each one of us has been "fearfully and wonderfully made." Furthermore, the "impermanence" of our earthly flesh will one day be replaced with eternal bodies from which the Creator's original beauty will not fade.

The actor Richard Dreyfuss claims that he has a keen sense of his own mortality. He is an agnostic, but he believes in at least the possibility of reincarnation. Dreyfuss said:

Isn't it funny that God takes you and puts you through the unendurable and then at the moment you have just begun to understand it and have some wisdom, it ends? I have this inner life which is vast and as large as the universe. I really like me. I hope I have another life. I hope I get another shot.

Most anyone who has ever moved to a new home at one point or another knows the challenge of trying to pack the most items possible into a car, van, or moving truck. If space runs out on the inside of the vehicle, one or two things can often be carefully strapped to the top. One New Hampshire driver, however, took some liberty with the space on top of their van, stacking up an almost-incredible pile of personal belongings. The top of the car held multiple pieces of large furniture, a shovel, a bike, and even a flat screen TV. The stack almost doubled the height of the van. The precarious-looking creation, though undeniably impressive, did not amuse state troopers. The vehicle was pulled over, ticketed, and towed to prevent "a potential accident from occurring."

Potential Preaching Angles: Are there worldly possessions in your life that you might find hard to leave behind? Matthew 6:21 says, "For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

For some motorcycle owners, biking is simply a hobby. For others, it's more than a hobby; it's a way of life. For one Pennsylvania man, however, biking has been both a way of life and a way of death. Arthur Werner Sr., of Steel City, PA, passed away recently after a hard-fought battle with cancer. Before his passing, however, he requested that he would be laid to rest in the sidecar of his 1990 Harley-Davidson Heritage Softail.

The funeral home chosen by the family is run by a group of motorcycle enthusiasts, who were honored to comply with the request. The sidecar would not even require any modification for the arrangement, they said. Werner's family says he bought the bike with his retirement bonus after 42 years as a steelworker. His daughter-in-law noted shortly after his passing, "he lived for that bike."

Potential Preaching Angles: The Lord bestows upon us bountiful blessings during our lives on earth, and we are right to enjoy them fully. But Jesus also reminds us in scripture not to let the joy of the gift distract from joy in the Giver. Matthew 6:19-21 reads: "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

The ruby slippers from The Wizard of Oz are among the most iconic movie costume pieces of all time. But today, nearly 80 years after the film was made, they're looking a little worse for wear—and the Smithsonian is looking to do something about it.

The slippers have been featured at the National Museum of American History since 1979; they were originally created to be a "vivid red … to take advantage of Technicolor," but now, "the shoes are fragile and actively deteriorating … the color has faded and the slippers appear dull and washed-out." To help preserve the shoes, a Kickstarter campaign is underway to raise $300,000 for "preservation work, research, and a new display case." According to the museum's head of conservation, "the case would probably need to contain a gas other than oxygen and have controls for barometric pressure."

If you donate to the campaign, a whole host of Oz-related merchandise could become available to you, ranging from totes and shirts to your very own replica pair of the slippers: that is, if you donate $7,000 or more.

Potential Preaching Angles: Even if you're a huge Wizard of Oz fan, the slippers' decay and the extreme efforts to save them may recall a select passage from the Book of Matthew on "stor[ing] up for yourselves treasures on earth" (6:19).

In a question and answer period after one of his lectures, C.S. Lewis was asked which of the world's religions gives its followers the greatest happiness. Lewis paused and said, "While it lasts, the religion of worshipping oneself is best."

Possible Preaching Angle: In other words, if you want instant, but very short-term happiness, create a religion that focuses on worshipping you.

In his book Rust: The Longest War, Jonathan Waldman takes us chapter by chapter into the world of oxidation and the problem of rust. He tells the story of how America almost lost the Statue of Liberty to corrosion, the constant struggle needed to maintain oil pipe lines, the development of stainless steel and rust resistant paint, how aluminum cans are treated to deter oxidation, and of the enormous cost and effort needed to beat back rust in the military—especially the navy's ships.

Rust isn't just annoying; it's expensive and dangerous. But rust happens and we can't stop it. For instance, on August 1, 2007, a bridge spanning the Mississippi in Minnesota suddenly collapsed during the evening rush hour. The bridge, identified as Bridge 9340 in official records, was rated as the second busiest in the entire state, with 140,000 vehicles crossing it every day. One hundred eleven vehicles rode the surface of the bridge down as much as 115 feet to the surface of the water and riverbank, with 13 people killed and 145 injured. A school bus with 63 children returning from a field trip ended up resting on a guardrail at the bottom.

The collapsed bridge over Mississippi had one cause: oxidation. Iron (in the soil and the bridge gussets) reacted chemically with oxygen and the result is a reddish product that eats and destroys that we call rust.

Possible Preaching Angles: Jesus told us that the same thing would happen to our possessions—as beautiful as they look now, everything we own will be subject to the power of rust.

In his book Life: The Movie, cultural critic Neil Gabler claims that People magazine has became the archetypical magazine of our times. Gabler writes:

Inspired by a section of Time magazine that chronicled celebrity milestones … People expanded the concept to include anything a celebrity did, on the canny principle that ordinary people were fascinated by extraordinary ones. Within ten months of its launch on March 4, 1974, the magazine had a circulation of 1.25 million.

Although People made a point of including noncelebrities in its pages … its success was unmistakably a testament to the enchantment of celebrity. People editor Richard Stolley even devised a set of rules for a successful cover: Young is better than old. Pretty is better than ugly. Rich is better than poor. TV is better than music. Music is better than movies. Movies are better than sports. Anything is better than politics. And nothing is better than a celebrity who has just died. It was a bracing description of not only what sold magazines but of what values the media now sold to the country.

Steve Lohr writes in the New York Times:

Mr. Jobs made a lot of money over the years, for himself and for Apple shareholders. But money never seemed to be his principal motivation. One day in the late 1990s, Mr. Jobs and I were walking near his home in Palo Alto. Internet stocks were getting bubbly at the time, and Mr. Jobs spoke of the proliferation of start-ups, with so many young entrepreneurs focused on an "exit strategy," selling their companies for a quick and hefty profit.

"It's such a small ambition and sad really," Mr. Jobs said. "They should want to build something, something that lasts."