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Just a few days before writing this message, I conducted a memorial service for a 60-year-old man who was the picture of health until three months before his death. He was active, vibrant, only recently retired, and looking forward to years of good life with his wife and family and friends. Nonetheless, pancreatic cancer had done its work, and quickly, and he was gone. It was the general consensus that it was too soon for his life to end; he was too young to die.

That experience came to mind as I was reading and studying the Bible passage for today. Scholars are not in total agreement about what it means, and no one knows for sure the point Jesus intended to make. One thing we need to understand is that the people who lived at that time expected Jesus to come back, and put everything right. In their minds, his return could happen at any time.

Clearly, that did not happen, and we're left wondering exactly what the point of this Bible passage is. I know there are those who await what is commonly referred to as "The Second Coming," but that's not where I am. While I admit to being as much in the dark as anyone else about this, I really believe that Jesus is setting forth a very existential question about life. It has to do with being ready for our lives to come to an end, whenever that may be.

As I read and reread the passage, it seemed to be asking the eternal, existentialist question: "If my life were to end today, is it the way I'd want it to be? If I were to die in my sleep tonight, would everything end the way I wanted it to? If I leave home tomorrow for work, and don't return in the evening, is my life story the one I want told?"

The Bible passage seems to be challenging us to get our lives together, because we don't know which day will be our last on this earth. Joan Baez was really saying the same thing when she commented, "You don't get to choose how you're going to die. Or when. You can only decide how you're going to live. Now."1 That's the choice each one of us makes every minute of every day: how we're going to live in this moment. As Annie Dillard said in The Writing Life, "How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives."2

It's interesting to reflect on this question, given some of the events of the last year of the century. In April of 1999, two students opened fire at Columbine High School in Littleton, Colorado, killing twelve other students and one faculty member before taking their own lives. In the time that has elapsed since the massacre, we've heard story after story of students who claimed their faith in God, even knowing it would spell certain death.

We've heard many stories about the kind of person each one was, and the kind of lives they lived. They were young people who expected to live long, full lives, but that was not to be the case. They didn't know when it would end, and that day came in an unexpected and horrifying way.

In the summer of 1999, the entire nation watched and waited for news of the fate of John F. Kennedy, Jr., his wife Caroline, and her sister. Their small plane vanished as they were approaching the airport in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts. Finally, after a massive search, the wreckage of the plane was found at the bottom of the sea, and their families and friends began their all-too-common plight of mourning the dead.

It was interesting, in the midst of all the media hype, to hear about how these well-known people had lived. We heard about their last day on this earth, and from all we saw and read, they were good people. Friends and acquaintances alike talked about how John Jr. tried to live his life in ways that were as normal as the lives you and I try to live. Once again, these events reminded me that we may be living our last day on earth right now, and we are making our legacy right this very minute. We make our mark with everything we say, and everything we do.

In some ways, it may be like something that can happen to any of us, and did happen in my life. My father lived alone in the home he and my mother bought in 1932. She had died six years earlier, and he managed quite well until that last unexpected illness. One day he was doing okay and the next he was on his way by ambulance to Indianapolis to undergo the first surgery of his life. The trauma was too much for him, and he died two weeks later.

When we went to his home the day after his death, we could see the traces of the life he had lived. We could see in the garage, his favorite place, what he had been doing and what he intended to do by the tools that were there. A look in the refrigerator told us what he'd last had for dinner, and the freezer revealed what was next on the agenda. Talking to a neighbor told us how recently the lawn had been mowed. Everywhere we looked there was evidence of the life he had lived and the person he was.

The same thing is true for all of us. The reality is that each of us leaves a trail behind us as proof of our having been here. As a result, it's probably important to think about the kind of tracks we're leaving behind. What will be said about us when it's all over? How will we be remembered?

Sometimes we can tell the legacy that's been left behind by wandering through a cemetery and reading all the inscriptions we find on tombstones. I haven't done that for a long time, but the other day, I happened to download some epitaphs from e-mail. Listen to some of them, and see what they tell us about the person who died.

There's this one in Silver City, Nevada. It reads: "Here lays Butch, we planted him raw. He was quick on the trigger, but slow on the draw." You may have heard about this one from a Georgia cemetery. It reads, "I told you I was sick!" In Thurmont, Maryland, we find this one: "Here lies an atheist, all dressed up and no place to go." Or this one from somewhere in England: "Dead at 30; buried at 60." Those tombstones tell us a lot about the lives that were led and the legacies that were left.

Given all that, it's important to ask ourselves the questions: "How do we live to ensure the kind of legacy we want to leave behind? What is the better way to live?" For me, it has everything to do with living under the influence of God, and basing our lives on our faith in God. When we do that, the probability is that our lives will be different and more positive and fulfilling than if we choose another basis on which to live. When we're under God's influence, we begin to reflect a little of God's love and patience and kindness and goodness.

I believe faith in God causes us to want to live our lives differently. It's not that we're ordered or commanded to do that, but when our heart changes, so do our thoughts, words, and deeds. We make plenty of mistakes, and we wander off the path from time to time, but when we keep striving to be more loving in everything we say and do, we are leaving a positive legacy behind us.

It seems to me that there are two obvious marks of a life that is based on faith in God: kindness and love. As Isaac Bashevis Singer noted, "Kindness, I've discovered, is everything in life."3 Kenneth Clark put it this way: "Ask any decent person what he thinks matters most in human conduct: five to one his answer will be 'kindness.' "4

The kind of thing I'm talking about is how we treat the person on the other end of the phone, or the clerk at the checkout lane in the grocery. It's how we treat friends and strangers alike. It's a gentle word; it's a warm smile; it's a bit more patience. Kindness is a more gentle way of living life.

The second mark of a life that is under God's influence is love. Some of you may be familiar with the name of Morrie Schwartz. Morrie was a professor at Brandeis University who had ALS, Lou Gehrig's Disease, and died a few years ago. However, in the process of his dying, he shared his wisdom and insights about life and death, about living and dying, that were captured in a book -- Tuesdays With Morrie -- written by one of his former students, Mitch Albom, a sportswriter for the Detroit Free Press. Morrie was also featured several times on Nightline with Ted Koppel, and his teachings touched millions of people.

On one of their regular Tuesday meetings, Morrie told Mitch that someone had asked him an interesting question the day before. The question was if he worried about being forgotten after he died. "Do you?" Mitch asked him. Morrie said he didn't think so, because he had so many people who had been involved with him in such close, intimate ways. And then he said, "Love is how you stay alive, even after you are gone."5 Morrie knew what counts. He understood that love lasts forever.

I think he's right. There's only one thing that truly outlasts us, and lives forever, and that's love. When the body ceases to exist, one thing goes on -- the love we have for our God and for our brothers and sisters everywhere. That love outlives us, and stays in the lives of those we have touched. Love is the best legacy we can leave. If we live our lives in love -- for ourselves, for one another, for our God -- then we are leaving a legacy that is truly eternal.

We never know which day will be our last on this earth. Perhaps it's a good idea to think about the kind of lives we're living. What are we leaving behind? What will our legacy be? Will it be a legacy of love and kindness?

Closing Word
Henry Ward Beecher once wrote: "We should so live and labor in our time that what came to us as seed may go to the next generation as blossom, and what came to us as blossom may go to them as fruit."6

As you leave here this morning, I hope and pray that the seeds and blossoms we pass along will be rooted in and filled with love. And go in peace. Amen.

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1. Joan Baez, Quotable Quotes (Pleasantville, New York: Reader's Digest, 1997), p. 146.

2. Annie Dillard, The Writing Life, Quotable Quotes (Pleasantville, New York: Reader's Digest, 1997), p. 150.

3. Isaac Bashevis Singer, Quotable Quotes (Pleasantville, New York: Reader's Digest, 1997), p. 78.

4. Kenneth Clark, Quotable Quotes (Pleasantville, New York: Reader's Digest, 1997), p. 78.

5. Mitch Albom, Tuesdays With Morrie (New York: Doubleday, 1997), p. 133.

6. Henry Ward Beecher, source unknown.