How Do You Measure A Life?

It surfaces on Facebook.  A post I had never dreamed of. A family member’s father dies of a heart attack.  His child missing saying, “goodbye”.

And the words of the wise speak life in their pain, “don’t let walls, division, and bitterness pass up the opportunity to truly love”.

I see them all over the place; the ones kicking against goads, the ones fighting hard what life throws at them, those resisting, claiming perfection, or those trying to wrap a bow around their problems, pretending to be, “just fine”…when they are not.

And, aren’t we all flawed, if we are honest?  Don’t we all struggle, lose hope, and as a result look for something or someone to cling to? 

And with teenagers committing suicide, car wrecks, heart attacks, infants being born with diseases incurable…what do we do with it all?  How do we measure what really matters in this life?

What are we clinging to?

I used to place a scale in my mind’s eye; trying to weigh the life of a man by what I have seen a person do or accomplish…pretending the good of life could only produce what I could see with my very own eyes, physically before me.

But, I was blind. God wants us to look with spiritual eyes. Not the eyes of man.

And I have seen great men of God simply be the catalyst for change; the grounding work many have followed and thousands have been changed by…the launching off pad of many, but no one remembered his name.

And yet, he was great, by measures we can’t see.

And still, we like to weigh a life by what it produces tangibility in front of us….by how many years, how much money, our education, our physical achievements….

But scripture tells us…“store up your treasures in heaven”. So, why do we measure our worth by how big our house is, how small our pant size is, the cost of our car, or the number of years that we have?

When I wonder if what is remembered is not measurable at all…life has no scales, can’t be weighed by numbers…in this lifetime, by people who are fallible.

My husband was sought out for a newspaper, to be the poster person for the work he has given twenty-two of his life to. He was chosen, not because He was rich or powerful, but because of the kids he has impacted and loved as a foster parent.

A newspaper reporter, a photographer came to our house to take pictures of Him.  And yet, few would believe how he grew up with servants, someone tying His shoes, butlers, and cooks weighting on Him night and day…giving Him everything earthly he wanted…and more…

Until we married, and he left it all.  And all we had was one another. We had no earthly wealth, no great name, no credentials to boast about our worth…

Our lives were simply built upon love. And that was enough.

And I wonder too, if all our lives will ultimately be measured by how we loved?  How often our hand was opened to others?  How much we gave to the needy, the broken?  How willingly we sacrificed, selflessly for other people?

Yet, doesn’t our society gets stuck in the shallow graves of empty achievement?  And I wonder if at the end of our lives….if we just might regret how we failed to treat each other.  If we will end up disappointed by our bitterness, our walls, our arms clenched, the fear that kept us from fulfilling our calling?

And will we simply end up with our well coddles lives like sand between their fingers? Passing…with nothing more than empty, patted down lives, safe worlds God will look down upon with disappointment…when we finally enter heaven?

My daughter is home from her six month missions trip. She tells me her heart aches more here in America, than ever out on the missions field.  She sees here, the greed of many, an insatiable thirst to get more, get bigger, get richer, while the world lies needy…first world nations remaining blind to our disguised selfishness.

And it stretches me even more to want my life to be spent, like Jesus’.  Giving of my resources.  Offering all I have so that at the end of this journey my flesh too will lay crucified….and resurrection will be mine fully when I stand in the fullness of the light of His glory.

I long on that day, to look into the eyes of Jesus.  Him saying, “Well done, good and faithful servant”.

Not because I was a good person, but because I surrendered to His Spirit alive in me…and I couldn’t help but walk by His love, being His hands and feet each and every place He leads me.

How will you measure a life? Your life? When it’s done?  Will you be happy with what you have invested in?  Will you regret not giving the one thing that multiplies when we are gone…the one thing that ripples for generations…

The gift that Jesus gave, as He surrendered His life for us?

Love that remains.  Love that is eternal. Love that’s all that counts, in the end.