The Legacy of a Man Who Cut Wood

The line for visitation wrapped all the way around the sanctuary, looped through the pews, down the hall and, someone even said, back to the church office.

I had never been to this church before, but even I knew the church office was a long ways off.

Hundreds of people came to pay respects to one man.  A husband.  A friend.  A hard worker.  A veteran.  A man who loved to cut wood.  A man who loved Jesus.

Mr. Charles.  He was Mamaw's friend.  I didn't know him well, but I knew him and his wife well enough to know this about him...

He was a man who loved Jesus.

He and his sweet wife of 60 years had been good to my grandmother.  When mom was sick, they were there for her.  When momma died, they were there, too.  Such good people.  Visiting mamaw several times since her move last summer.  Her new home up the road from me.

He was a man who loved Jesus.

The funeral ran long because it started late.  Those hundreds of people wanting the chance to hug his bride of 60 years.  To hug and cry with her.  To encourage her. To pray with her.  And view the body of a man who loved Jesus.

It was after nine when I got home, Brent was wiping the counter, standing at the kitchen sink as I came in the door.

"How was it?"

"So good.  I know it sounds odd, but I wish I could go to a funeral once a week.  Just to keep a firm grip on reality."

Brent nodded.

"Seriously," I said.  "Funerals will keep you sober.  Because when it is all said and done, someone is going to sum you up in about 30 minutes.  If that long.  I want to live a life aware of that fact.  What will be said over my casket?"

I hope the message spoken at my funeral will be as impactful as the words at Mr. Charles'.

The pastor spoke to us all, but mostly to his wife.  The wife of sixty years.  He looked at her from the pulpit, square in her eyes, and said, "Miss Jane.  Your husband's life mattered.  To all of us.  Charles lived a life for Christ.  His life was for the Glory of God."

A man who loved Jesus.

Pastor continued, "I'd like to read a passage from Scripture, Miss Jane.  A passage that, I feel, describes well the life of Mr. Charles."

Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,
nor stands in the way of sinners, nor sits in the seat of scoffers;
but his delight is in the law of the LORD
and on his Law he meditates day and night.
He is like a tree planted by streams of water
that yields its fruit in its season and its leaf does not wither.
In all that he does he prospers.
Psalms 1: 1-3

A "life that was lived for Christ" and a Psalm 1.  That is a powerful life.

How would my life be summed up?  Honestly?

Some days it would be, "Miss Becky.  She was a nice lady.  But a bit impatient.  And self-absorbed.  But wow, in her thirties she could run an 8-minute-mile.  And was amazing at mentally keeping track of her caloric intake.  She didn't even need an App for that."

Some days it would be, "Miss Becky.  She was a happy gal.  A fair cook.  Who served her family and those around her... most of the time because she loved them, but often for recognition and a big pat on the back."

Or "Miss Becky.  She was a sweet thing.  She sure did love her husband.  Even though she snaped at him often and was quite stingy with grace.  But overall, she was a pretty good wife.  Most of the time."

And a passage from Scripture.  What would be read?  I'd like to think that Colossians 3:12-17 would be mentioned or maybe bits of Proverbs 31.  Even a little Galations 5:22-25.

I'd like to think.

But reality is that some will hear the voice of Jesus retell his words in Matthew 7.  "Not everyone who says to me, 'Lord, Lord,' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.  On that day many will say to me,  'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?' And then will I declare to them, 'I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.'" Matthew 7:21-23
Yikes.

And arguably worse, one would hear the Lord proclaim Revelation 3:16...

"Because you are lukewarm--neither hot nor cold--I am about to spit you out of my mouth."

Dear.  Heaven forbid it.

Lord, let me be summed up in the same line as Mr. Charles...


"Miss Becky, she lived her life for Christ."

Because when the receiving line has moved through and the hydrangeas are displayed atop my casket, the pastor will stand at the pulpit and have about 30 minutes.

What will he say?

Lord, today let me live a life of sacrifice and selfless service to You.  A life of meaningful relationships.  Of love.  Each day for You.  In every single facet.

Sweet Mr. Charles.  The man who cut wood.  He met Jesus last week.  The Jesus he loved.

What a legacy.

A legacy that will carry on.  His life still making a difference...

Even now, in my own.

As a prisoner for the Lord, 

then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling

 you have received. 

Ephesians 4:1

But There You Are, Esther...

When Mordecai learned all that had been done, he tore his clothes and put on sackcloth and ashes and went int to the midst of the city...Mordecai told all that had happened and the exact sum of money that Haman had promised to pay into the King's treasuries for the destruction of the Jews. Esther 4:1, 7

Haman, the enemy of the Jews, put a contract on the head's of God's people. His plan - to exterminate them all. And His primary target...Mordecai. Queen Esther's uncle.

Mordecai pleads of the Queen, Do not think to yourself that in the King's palace you will escape anymore than all the other Jews from another place, but you and your father's house will perish. And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this? Esther 4:14

Up to this point, I assume Esther was unclear why she, an unassuming, simple, virgin, Jewish girl, was chosen to as the Queen of Persia. But now, upon hearing the news if Haman's plot, she knows. God's providence has placed her perfectly as Queen. Giving her a voice and platform to save her people.

Mordecai has faith that God will ultimately save the Jews. But it is also very clear to him that Esther has a role to play. How will she respond?

Who knows, is she there for such a time as this?

Absolutely.

What if we viewed life through Esther's lens?

Simple and unassuming people, providentially placed right where we are.

Becky, look around you...Look at your home, your neighborhood, your city, your social network, your Facebook friends, the people you see everyday.

Who know, am I here for such a time as this?

Absolutely.

But here's the catch.

The people I encounter in my world, Haman does not have a contract on their head.

No, it is much worse.

The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy. John 10:10

ONLY.

Our enemy makes Haman look like a pretty nice guy. He is much more ruthless than Haman could dream.

And his chief end? To destroy.

Kill (thyō): 1) to sacrifice, immolate. 2) to slay, kill. 3) slaughter

There are people around us who need you to go to the King on their behalf. Plead for their lives. There are people who you will see TODAY that need to be saved from death.

This may not be the kind of thought we want to ponder first thing in the morning, coffee in hand. But let it be known...people around you have contracts on their heads....

...for the eternal-forever-kind-of-death.

But there you are, Esther. Providentially placed in their day. In their office building. As their friend on Facebook. On the elliptical to their right. You see them in class. Parked in front of them at carpool....Who knows, for such a time as this? To tell them about Jesus? To share your faith?

We could be a part of the picture. As a part of their salvation story.

What do we have to lose? Nothing.

What do they have to lose?

Everything.

Today, let us respond...Yes. Send me. I'll tell them. I will be their Esther, standing before the King on their behalf. I will plead their case. I will go, Lord...

And not be afraid.

As you reflect on your Divine, providential place, who comes to mind today? How will you respond?

Day Fifteen: Love Remembers

A couple of years ago my grandmother stayed the weekend me. Brent was away for a conference. She does this a lot when he is gone. We are good company to eachother.

This one particular visit I can't forget.

Mamaw had gone into the bathroom to bathe. She closed the door behind her. I was outside of her door, folding towels infront of the linen closet.

From the other side of the door came the sound of running water. And tears. Silent sniffles. Unexpected sadness.

"Mamaw? Can I come in?"

She turned off the water. As if nothing was wrong..."What honey?"

She didn't know I was there.

"You're crying. Can I come in?"

She opened the door. Her eyes red from tears. A tissue in her hand. "What's the matter, Mamaw?"

"Oh honey, Mamaw just cries. A little everyday. I've always been like that."

"Why?"

The tears coming back. "I just miss your mama. And your Papaw Clyde. Somedays, I can't get over it."


"I miss her too. But everyday, you cry? Mamaw, is that healthy? To remember them and cry so much?"

With her voice a bit broken, "We have to remember them. All those that we love. Your boys will only know your mother through your memory."

Wisdom.

As we have moved Mamaw from her home this summer, we uncovered so many memories. Mother's baby clothes, journals, yearbooks and countless pictures.

The other day I found Papaw Clyde's undershirt from World War II. Breathtaking.

Remembering can painful. And sad. But beautiful, still. Love remembers. And keeps their legacy alive.

And when he had given thanks, he broke the bread and said, "This is my body which is for you. Do this in remembrance of me." In the same way also he took the cup, after supper saying "This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me." For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord's death until he comes. 1 Corinthians 11:23-26

Jesus calls us to remember him. To reflect on his life. And his death. To savor the beauty of his Resurrection. And in doing this, we proclaim him. We are never to neglect or forget the gift he was to us. His life is worthy of our remembrance.

Day Fifteen: Love Remembers

Today, take time to remember loved ones that have passed. Look at pictures. Tell a story about them to your children. Honor their memory. Even if it hurts. Even if it brings tears. Remember.

The Beauty Of Broken Pieces

My mother was a bargain shopper. A wheelin-dealin', card carryin', bona fide, clearance queen. No matter if it fit or matched - if it was 65% off she could make it work.

I loved this about her.

Spring 2002, Brent and I were nearing the Big Day. We had spent hours registering for dinnerware, Tupperware, Corningware, underwear - if it ended in -ware we registered for it. We were quite proud of ourselves, I do say. Young, in love and so excited about our choices.

I remember the day well. The day mama came over after a trip to Belk. She and Mamaw had been shopping. Bargain shoppin'.

"Look what I found on clearance. I bought you and Brent a set. These are Lenox."

With a proud smile, she held up a box of dishes. Cream and country-blue, striped dishes. Yes, they were Lenox, but they were cream and country-blue. And striped. Not what I wanted or would have chosen.

Not wanting to pop her bargain bubble, I thanked her and thought to myself, I will shelve them and cross my fingers someone buys what is on our registry. And a few someones did. Friends and family bought piece after piece, completing the set of my chic and classy white dishes.

But come March 12, 2005, my chic and classy white dishes paled in comparison to the beauty of those cream colored Lenox dishes. That country-blue stripe had never been more meaningful.

To this day, mama is a part of mealtime. I like to think of her serving up oatmeal and cereal for breakfast. Macaroni and chicken at dinner. Those clearance dishes - now of intangible worth.

Last Friday night, after a lazy woman served up some Ragu and noodles to her three little boys, she turned to put a bowl in the sink. And the bowl slipped right out of her hand onto the hardwood floor. It hit just right. And broke into ungluable pieces.

I knelt and in slow motion picked up each piece.

Grant came behind me, "Was that bowl precious?"

Precious. His wording poignant.

"Yes, honey. This bowl was precious. My mama bought it for me."

"Your mama Darlene? Wasn't that her name? Darlene?" Ethan asked.

"Yes. Darlene."

Ethan -"How do you spell that? D-A-R.. How does the rest go, mom?"

Her name sounded sweet in my home. And as I picked up the broken pieces of my bowl, the Lord picked up the broken pieces of my heart. Those little voices remembering the grandmother they never knew.

We talked of her Friday night. For a good long while. And I was thankful.

The brokenness of my bowl bringing back the beauty of her memory.

Do not lay up for yourselves treasure on earth, where moth and rust destroy, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven. Matthew 6:19-20

And she is there. A treasure awaiting me in heaven. Her embrace serving satisfaction that no cream colored, country-blue striped plate could offer.

One day, we will feast together again.

Not on discounted Lenox dishes, but on divine dinnerware, set for us at a the table of the Most High God.

A family reunion my mind can not conceive. My RSVP confirmed. A party I will not miss.

Until then, her memory lives on. I see her in the smiles of my children, in the clearance aisle at Belk, in the three Lenox bowls left in my kitchen cabinet.

And in the quiet places of my heart.

Ramblings of a Prideful Woman

This summer began with goals of being a significant one.

My list was written early May. Spiritual, physical and relational goals for myself and my family.

However, when making my plans, I could have never dreamed just how significant this summer would be ... in 1,000 unexpected ways.

The heart of man plans his ways, but the LORD establishes his steps. Proverbs 9:16

If my life was a roller coaster ride, this summer the wheels came off of the track.

Especially spiritually.

If you've followed my blog for any length of time, maybe you've sensed it. Something different? Yeah, me too. I couldn't put my finger on it for the longest time. It is still hazy to be quite honest, but this is what I know...

The Lord has brought me to a place of sober judgement.

Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you. Romans 12:3

Sober Judgement (sōphroneō)- to put a moderate estimate upon one's self, think of one's self soberly

Magnifying mirrors are of great use. I have one in my bathroom. Quite handy for plucking eye brows. But if you are not use to looking at yourself in one, it can be quite alarming. Just when I think my complexion looks pretty good.... Ahem. Or wrinkles, I don't have too many. Oh yeah? Look again.

This summer, the Word of God has taken a magnifying mirror to my soul. Embellishing every area of my life that is not fully surrendered to Christ.

Come to find out, my spiritual complexion was in need of Proactive. I was broken out all over.

So off I go to the Divine Dermatologist to diagnose. "Well, Becky for one, you have way to many attachments to that blog of yours. You need to release it for a while."

What?

Release it. But its my baby. I love that blog. I have grown so much through it. And my readers. What about them? They check in and follow along. I can't let them down.

"Release it."

I'll just back away a little. Not blog so much.

"No, release it. To clean up your blemishes, I need all of your morning. Even your blogging time."

A few days later, I was online, probably blogging, when a storm blew in. And with it, I am not kidding, a lightening bolt struck near our house and took out our Internet. No lie.

"I said release it."

Yes, Sir.

It is very difficult to articulate in written words what is communicated in the Spirit. But I'll try.

First, I started a study. This one...



A Call To Die, by David Nasser. And that is exactly what I've been doing this summer.

Dying.

To my flesh. To my sin. And to any distractor that comes between me and my God. And by golly, He loves me so much, that if I wouldn't give it up, He'd go ahead and take it.

This blog, as good as it has been, has become quite an identity for me. My strings became much too attached. So He snapped them for a while.

(Confessing now) I realized that numbers became way too important. Comments became quite an obsession. And the unspoken "blog competition", even in Christian circles, became an issue for me. I wanted my blog to rank with some of the best.

Ugh. That was hard to type.

I heard one time to never become too consumed by the numbers of your followers. Jesus only had twelve. And one betrayed Him.

So. I am back. My Internet back up. And the Lord has refreshed my heart. I have come to realize that this blog can not - can not - can not take time away from my nose in His Word.

I need the Word of God like my body needs coffee. I mean water.



I need time in His presence. In my living room, on my knees, before Him. Singing praises to the Most High. O my goodness, ya'll. I am so in love with Him.

That lightening bolt, and this Call to Die have been so good. So renewing.

Forgive me for my pride. Forgive me for not constantly viewing myself with sober judgement.

So back to blogging. The Lord back as the Commander in Chief.

I am just the hands that type.

31 Days of Praying for our Children will resume. I just had to let you know what was going on in my heart.

I am so thankful for you all. No sufficient words for that one.

What Hinders You?

What is the biggest distraction between you and a deeper relationship with God?

What consumes your thought life?

Are you one to make "promises" to God and break them?



I am so sick and tired of anything competing for my affection with Christ. He is so much better than "whatever it is" that might hinder a closer connection with Him.

A hindrance may be as big as alcohol, pornography or overspending.

It may be as simple as gossip, laziness, food or television.

Oh, He is better.

Read this and meditate on its depth...

Surely then you will find delight in the Almighty and will lift up your face to God. You will pray to him, and he will hear you, and you will fulfill your vows. What you decide on will be done, and light will shine on your ways. Job 22:26-28

You will find greater delight in Him. He hears your prayer.

Today I am making a decision.

A decision to go deeper. A decision to move closer to my God.

A decision to die.

To die to the thing or things that cause my growth to slow.

To die to anything that hinders my walk.

We are called to die. So we can live.

What is it today that needs to be put to death in you?

Pray about it. Make a decision.

And in the power of the Holy Spirit, you will fulfill your vows.

Are you in?

He Is Near To The Brokenhearted

I am so blessed to still have two living grandmothers. Eighty-nine and Ninety-one. You have met Mamaw Arden, my most valuable inheritance, but never before have you met Mildred, my dad's mother.

She has always been small and feisty. A water aerobic goddess, a skilled gardener and devoted wife.

After my grandfather passed of Lou Gehrig's disease in the eighties, she remarried.

Everett.

A stud of a man. A former train engineer and southern gentleman. A ballroom dancing, chivalrous stud.

They were quite the couple.

But time catches up and eventually death makes its way it every front door.

Even at Christmastime.

Saturday, I sat next to Mamaw on her couch. Lately, I can see in her eyes she is inching away.

Holding her frail hand, we sat and listened to Everett's daughter.

I heard the news with her. Both of us for the first time.

"They are moving Everett from the hospital to a new home, Mildred. It is a good place. A lady welcomes folks into her home to stay a while. She cooks for them and cares for them. There are nurses there. It is very warm and loving. It's a good place. You can go and visit him anytime. I hear she is a good cook, too. Maybe you can go have a meal with him. Doesn't that sound nice, Mildred?"

"Well. I guess."

I chime in, "It sounds great. Can I book my stay for when I am ninety? What a great alternative to rehabilitation." I turn and look at Mamaw, "Maybe he can stay there until he feels stronger. Then he can come home."

Mamaw looked down, "He'll never come home."


Her Christmas tree twinkled next to the fireplace. Lights bright on the mantel.

Mocking us.

"Its a hospice house, Becky."

Silence.

Hospice. A hopeless word.

The reality of the news started to sink deeply.

He'll never come home.

The eyes of the LORD are toward the righteous and his ear toward their cry.

When the righteous cry for help, the LORD hears and delivers them out of all their troubles.

The LORD is near to the broken hearted.
Psalm 34:15, 17-18

His eyes are upon my grandmother. He knows her frailties. He hears her cry.

Emmanuel has fresh meaning this year. God is with her.

Near to her broken heart.

He is the one who gives her peace and comforts.

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are. Hebrews 4:15

He understands her grief. He came, specifically, to experience it.

This is a very difficult Christmas for many of you.

The joy of the holidays is painful in the midst of illness, loss, cancer, divorce, depression or death.

But know that he hears your cry.

His eyes are upon you.

He came to this world to deliver you.

He is near to the broken hearted.

Cry out to Him.

Emmanuel: God is with us.

God is with my grandmother.

God is with Everett.

Emmanuel: God is with you.

A Chain Mail (that I'm actually passing on)

This weekend I received a "forward this to 10 people" style email from my dad. I usually read them, but never participate.

This one took me by surprise.

As we celebrate the birth of Jesus, this magnificent God invading our world as a humble baby, let us reflect on the purpose of His coming.

Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; He was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed.
Isaiah 53:4,5

Oh, to reflect on the reality of His affliction.

The following makes me love my Jesus all the more.

This is why he came.

Immanuel, God with us.

THE SCIENTIFIC DEATH OF JESUS

At the age of 33, Jesus was condemned to the death penalty.

At the time crucifixion was the worst death. Only the worst criminals condemned to be crucified. Yet it was even more dreadful for Jesus, for unlike other criminals condemned to death by crucifixion Jesus was nailed to the cross by His hands and feet, rather than tied.

Each nail was 6 to 8 inches long. The nails were driven into His wrist. Not into His palms as is commonly portrayed. There's a tendon in the wrist that extends to the shoulder. The Roman guards knew that when the nails were being hammered into the wrist, that tendon would tear and break, forcing Jesus to use His back muscles to support himself, so that He could breathe.

Both of His feet were nailed together. Thus He was forced to support Himself on the single nail that impaled His feet to the cross. Jesus could not support himself with His legs for long because of the pain, so He was forced to alternate between arching His back and using his legs just to continue to breath. Imagine the struggle, the pain, the suffering, the courage. Jesus endured this reality for over 3 hours.

Yes, over 3 hours. Can you imagine this kind of suffering? A few minutes before He died, Jesus stopped bleeding. He was simply pouring water from his wounds.

From common images we see wounds to His hands and feet and even the spear wound to His side...But do we remember the many wounds made to his body. A hammer driving large nails through the wrists, the feet overlapped and a nail hammered through the arches, then a Roman guard piercing His side with a spear. And... before the nails and the spear, Jesus was whipped and beaten. The whipping was so severe that it tore the flesh from His body. The beating so horrific that His face was torn and his beard ripped from His face. The crown of thorns (two to three inch thorns) cut deeply into His scalp.

Most men would not have survived this torture.

He had no more blood to bleed out, only water poured from His wounds. The human adult body contains about 3.5 liters (just less than a gallon) of blood. Jesus poured all 3.5 liters of his blood; He had three nails hammered into His members; a crown of thorns on His head and, beyond that, a Roman soldier who stabbed a spear into His chest.

All these without mentioning the humiliation He passed after carrying His own cross for almost 2 kilometers, while the crowd spat in his face and threw stones (the cross beam was almost 30 kg of weight).

Jesus endured this experience, so that we may have free access to God. He became our sin. And took our shame.

Oh thank you, Jesus.

So in true chain mail style, pass this on.

Not as an email.

But as a gift.

For unto us a child is born, to us a son is given; and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Isaiah 9:6

It is well...

Meet my Mother. Darlene.

Isn't she so beautiful?

I remember when this picture was taken. We were at a cookout in May 2004. I remember smiling, cheek to cheek with her thinking, this could very well be one of the last pictures I ever take with her. And it was.

Less than a year later, my phone rings very early on a Saturday. It was my Grandmother. "Becky, you should come on over. It will be today." And it was.

That morning, March the 12th 2005, my beautiful Mama went to be with Jesus. Pancreatic cancer. I hate the thing. It was the hardest year of my life.

It was the hardest year of my life, yes, but my closest year with her. And, to that date, it was my closest year with Jesus. After her diagnosis, each moment with her was rich and purposeful. We both operated out of a knowing. An unspoken knowing that her time was very limited. Tears fall now on the remembrance.

As with many mother-daughter relationships, we had our fair share of struggles. We were not "best friend" close. Until we knew. Then the Lord knit us together with divinely woven thread. A bond that, unfortunately, only cancer could bring us.

From a spiritual standpoint, cancer was the best thing that could have happened to her. And to me. We thirsted for the Lord. We sought after Him like we never had before. Scripture was life to her. It was the only thing that made sense. I can't write that emphatically enough.

I had never walked so closely with death. Sickness allowed us to see life for all it really is. Limited. Cancer provided us an opportunity to view this life through our mortal eyes, and it all boils down to two things - God. And relationships. That is it. That's all that ultimately matters.

The Lord gave me an opportunity to see that if we strip it all away - money, busyness, materialism, media, work, hobbies, recognition - we are all left with the same thing. Our soul. That is it. The rest goes. The soul we keep. It is the soul that yearns and needs deeply. We sure can keep busy gratifying ourselves with stuff. With filler. But it is the soul we are longing to satisfy.

This is what I learned the most from my mother throughout that final year...

I watched this woman, who had a great affection for pretty things, nice clothes, and a gorgeous home, throw off all that she once held dear and pursue the Lord with great passion. She knew, then, that He was it.

The morning of March 12th, 2005, I sat at her bedside. Just the two of us. All things bare. Just our two souls and my Bible. All we had left. All that mattered. I read. I sang. And I cried. The Lord brought me to a Psalm that I had never read throughout her illness. He reserved it for this moment.

Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you. I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands. My soul will be satisfied as with the riches of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise you. On my bed I remember you, because you are my help. I sing in the shadow of your wings. My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me. Psalm 63:3-8

I couldn't help but read it over and over and over.

Do you see? His love is better than life. He is our help. He upholds us. He is the stuff we are looking for. He is the filler...It is He who satisfies our soul.

He is it for us.

Her faith now sight. Her soul completely satisfied. Mine on its way.

I wouldn't have chosen this for my mother. Or for myself. But I trust Him. So did she. Completely.

This morning, I am thankful for my beautiful mother who taught me to say, "Whatever my lot, Lord, it is well with my soul."

For He satisfies.

...just like that.

Strange.

The boys and I went to the park the other day. I was watching my youngest toddle around on wood chips and climbing a playset much too large for him when I was suddenly, keenly aware of my mortality. Unrelated to anything I was doing. Every now and then my own mortality comes into reality and it is a strange, and honestly scary, place to be. Strange, but good. So quickly I was thrown into the depth and richness of a moment with my children and very aware of my inability to stop time, slow it down or get it back.

The next morning, I get a call from my dad, telling me that my Uncle, who battled cancer for eleven years, went to be with the Lord. Mortality. He took his final breath and suddenly, within the blink of an eye was given over to victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 1 Corinthians 15:57. Just like that. Immortality. Amazing.

In Christ, death is such a beautiful thing. Yes, we grieve. Beth Moore said once that we are spiritually wired for eternity. That is one reason we struggle to reconcile goodbyes. We sign our letters Love Always, Forever Yours, etc. because we long for forever. The Good News is we are destined for eternity in Christ.

“Thou hast made us for Thyself O God, and the heart of man is restless until it finds its rest in Thee.” -Augustine

Death is our reality.

My Uncle Ronnie was an amazing man. He loved the Lord, was a Methodist minister, loved his wife, his children and grandchildren. He battled cancer. Battled. Fought to live, yet faced death with sufficient courage. Christ was exalted in his body by both life and by death. (Philippians 1:20) Ronnie trusted God through his sickness. He never gave up on the Gospel. He was a beautiful example of Paul's heart when he wrote, "For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain." Philippians 1:21. Ronnie showed us how to live and how to die. His faith now sight. Glory.

Christ will be our reality.

I am hesitant to even say it, but I want to live with an underlying awareness of my own mortality. I want to remember to love deeper, hug often and stay longer. I want a present awareness of significance. Christ is significant. The Gospel is significant. My family is significant. Relationships are significant. All else will fade.

Death has been swallowed up in victory. For a believer, death has no sting. - 1 Corinthians 15:54-55

Thank you, Lord, for the gift of eternity. Thank you for lives, like Ronnie's, that give us hope and challenge us to pursue You unto death. Thank you, Jesus, that you suffered the ugliest death...so that ours can be beautiful.