Doing Life Well

A week ago, I went to a funeral/memorial service for one of the most kind men I knew, Holt Fleming.  Holt was the long time treasurer at First United Methodist Church of Lawrenceville, and when I served on staff there from 2002-2005, Holt came every Thursday morning to sign checks for various ministries.  On Thursdays, I always looked forward to seeing Holt, and I never missed sticking my head in the office where he was signing away to say, "Hello," because Holt always made me feel good about my day.  Heck, he made me feel good about life.

At the service, I figured out I wasn't the only one.  He had made every pastor and everyone feel that way.  I came home, and told my wife it was the best funeral I'd been to in a long time.  His Sons-in-law spoke with reverence and honor about the man they lovingly called "Dad."  And I just thought:  "I hope I do life that well."

There are moments when things become clear.  Every one of us will have a funeral or memorial service.  Our children, friends, nephews, nieces and business associates will gather to say something about our lives.  At that moment, the daily moments that we take for granted will add up to something.  We will have lived a lifetime of kindness or something else entirely.  It's so hard to think about that in the grind of life.  I spend most of my time working and chasing around four boys.  We spend our conversations trying to figure out what we're having for dinner and what time we're eating dinner in order to get to the ball field or a meeting on time.  I spend time worrying about church stuff and how to lead our ministry to where God wants it to go.  I go to meetings and write reports.  And, yet, I don't want to be remembered for any of that.

No one wants their children to say, "You know, the best thing about Dad was that we always had our schedule nailed down so that we could eat dinner before going to baseball practice."  And no one wants to be remembered as someone "who could really lead a meeting" or "really write up a report."

I want to be remembered as a man who really loved Jesus.  A husband who honored his wife every day.  A father who nurtured and cared for his sons, and taught them how to be men of integrity.  I want to be adored by my future daughters-in-law because I have cherished them and my future grandchildren so dearly.  I want to be known as someone who was fun to work for and with.  And I want to be remembered as kind.

It would help, if we could think about the back end of things on the front end.  Much of what we spend our energy, time and emotions on won't matter.  But we also can't live all of our lives at once.  I knew Holt Fleming as kind because he was kind the first day I met him as a young associate pastor.  Then he was kind the next time and the next.  Then he was just as encouraging every time I saw him when I dropped by to visit, even after I was serving elsewhere.  One visit at a time.  One smile at a time.  One kind word at a time.  That's how you build a legacy and a life.  When our children eulogize us, what will be the total sum of the 'one at a time' investments we've made over a lifetime?  What will matter at that moment won't be whether we did work, meetings, or reports well.  What will matter then is if we did life well.  So do life well today.