Tip of My Iceberg

It’s easier to celebrate beginnings rather than endings.

Births and weddings are grand occasions to gather people to honor the start of something new and remarkable. The onset of a new kind of journey.

Death is the end of a journey; no more dreams, no more planning, no decisions to be made, nothing to be changed.

Cemeteries are noted for their commemoration of an entire life, reflected in the dates engraved on headstones. 1951-2023, the beginning and end of the existence of a person.

What we often forget is the value of the dash–the years lived during that life. This focuses not just on accomplishments but on the character of the one who lived.

The dash is about worthiness of the life.

Too often those officiating at memorials don’t have a deep relationship with the deceased. Much of what’s said sounds like platitudes coming from a plethora of fortune cookies.

When we celebrated my brother-in-law’s life, the common thread of comment from all who spoke at his memorial was that he was a man who loved his family well, cared well for others, was trustworthy and loyal, and loved Jesus.

People came from all over the country for the celebration.

Very little would have drawn so many people from such distant places, to count the cost of time, money, and effort to show up.

But a memorial service for a well-loved man whose life touched so many was reason to show up.

It made me realize how well John lived out the dash.

King David reflected on the beauty and wonder of life that is a creation and gift of God.

“You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and knit me together in my mother’s womb. Thank You for making so wonderfully complex! Your workmanship is marvelous–how well I know it.” Psalm 139:13-14

God made each of us beautifully, no matter what we think of ourselves. His delight in us is shown in the way He chooses to love us–even as broken and miserable as we are.

How we live our lives matters. Nobody wants to waste what has been so wonderfully made. It’s like seeing a masterpiece painted by DaVinci and throwing rotten fruit at it–it’s not how you deal with a gift you’ve been given.

John lived wonderfully in the dash. He wasn’t perfect, but he knew what mattered and what was worth committing his time and talents to. He knew the value of the dash.

Life is more than living as we want. It’s how we live that impacts others.

How are you investing in your dash?