A Life of Last Days

Every day, I see pictures of two men whose influence has outlived their time on earth. At my desk, I reread the laminated life story framing Steve’s face, on the 4×6 card prepared for family and friends at his funeral last year. Every time I get into my car, I see Nick’s picture that I folded and tore from the program at his memorial service last year.

Every day, I see their faces and remember something really important. I’ve kept thinking, “I really should write about this…” 

And this week, I can’t get away from it. Tonight, I added another picture beside Nick’s. Silas, a nineteen-year-old, a son-brother-uncle-friend, was buried today.

What do Steve, Nick, and Silas teach me? In three different ways, the same thing: life is short, and every day could be my last.

I remember talking with Steve’s son after his funeral. “Any regrets about the days leading up to Dad going into the hospital? Anything you feel like you missed?” After battling long with cancer, beating cancer, and suffering cancer’s return, Steve had gone to the hospital with concerning symptoms. But nobody expected the hospital stay to end the way it did. Steve went to sleep, and three days later, God took him.

There were no cognizant last moments. Steve didn’t get the chance to formulate the last words he’d want his family to hear before he was gone. Did they miss that?

“No, not really,” Jordan shook his head and smiled a little. “If Dad had known that his last words were going to be his last words, he would have just said the same things he already said. He told Mom, ‘I trust the Lord with my soul – how much more can I trust Him to care for my family?’ He was constantly telling us that he loved us, that God is sovereign, that he was at peace trusting the Lord.”

Steve didn’t know those words would be his last. And yet…if he had, he would have said exactly what he did. He spoke a legacy of last words.

I remember sitting at Nick’s memorial service a few days after Steve’s funeral. Though we both studied on the same campus, I never met Nick. But when a student dies, it seems right for the student body to gather and collectively honor the Lord in lament and worship. So I went.

Pastors, parents, sisters, fiancée, friends – everyone who spoke at the service said the same things. Nick was a godly young man who pleased the Lord, honored his authorities, welcomed outsiders, and loved his friends, family, and fiancée well. His character was above reproach, blameless. He was passionate for the kingdom and its advance in his home country of Canada.

Nick’s death was inexplicable. He had gone to a park with his fiancée, sister, and friends, and collapsed. All medical interventions couldn’t bring him back. He was young and healthy. Why…?

Nick got up that morning with no idea that was the last day of his earthly race. And yet…if he had, I imagine he would have done exactly what he did. He went to classes to prepare for ministry. He loved the people around him. He walked with God. And then God took him.

So this week, here we are again. Silas got up on a Saturday morning with no knowledge that was his last day. And yet…if he had, I imagine he would have done exactly what he did. He brought joy to his sisters by his words and acts of service. He spent time with the people he cared about, who cared about him. And then God took him.

Each man lived a life of last days.

Life really is a vapor. We never know which day will be our last.

When a believer dies, we have a sure hope that we will be reunited in resurrection…but it still hurts. “Where, O death, is thy sting?” will be a rhetorical question in the future, when Jesus swallows up death in victory. Right now, it’s a real question with a real answer.

“Where is your sting, Death?”

It’s right here. It’s in that casket, it’s beside that grave, it’s in the tears of the saints who remain when one departs. We know his soul is with the Lord, but we grieve the loss of the beloved’s words and living presence with us. That’s what we lose at death.

So if I believe that my life is in the hand of the Lord, and I am not promised another moment past this one, what would I want my last day to be? How do I know if I am faithfully stewarding the time God gives me for His kingdom’s cause?

If at death I lose the opportunity to love people with words and presence, then every day I live should maximize opportunities to do those things. Every morning, I aspire to ask…

How can I speak words today that will encourage? How can I speak love to my neighbors? What should I write that might build up a brother’s faith? What saint should get a letter, email, text from me?

How can I use physical presence to bless people today? Whom can I be with? Who may need a hug, a hand on the shoulder, a smile? Whom will God put in front of me that just needs to be seen?

And at the end of the day, I want to go to sleep trusting my soul to the Lord, with a clear conscience. If I wake up in His presence, which would certainly be far better, I want that day to have been a faithful investment in the kingdom. May I speak every word as if it would be my last, and live a life of last days, for the glory of the King.