“Truly I say to you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” ~ Jesus
The day after Christmas, my lifelong friend’s father passed away. Hearing the tributes at this man’s funeral made me consider what a well-lived life looks like and reminded me that our time here is limited.
So much of our lives can be spent on achievements – the gaining of accolades and things, yet it’s the unremarkable, ordinary bits that have a way of squeezing to the forefront, while the larger become the lesser and blur into the background.
We each leave an impression; our own individual indent on our patch of time here on earth. The things we do are meaningful – even the smallest of them. Surprisingly, the most mundane, everyday bits are perhaps most memorable – the parts lived in-between the “big stuff” instead of that which we might consider the main or most prominent events.
The echo that remained in the wake of this father’s last days wasn’t the accumulation of treasures and trophies, degrees or diverse portfolios. Resonating most powerfully was the very ordinary way in which this man lived his life and how a final decision altered his eternity.
It appears the achievements of a life well-lived are not actually the “achievements” at all. Paradoxically, greatness may resonate most fully through quiet kindnesses, a hand held out to the needy, a listening ear, or simple silence – the countless breaths between the fanfare.
I was also reminded of how, as long as you have breath, it’s never too late to find God.
This same father wondered why he had let go of God at the age of fifteen, and if it was too late for him. He had spent fifty-nine years away from God, but grasped hold of the Father two short days before he died.
See…even if, in the last cluster of moments, we wonder for half a heartbeat if there is still room in heaven for us, still a hope, still a chance to return from a lifelong detour, even then God’s offer still stands, even then His embrace is fully enfolding, even then heaven assured.
This father found, not unlike the thief on the cross an arm’s length or two from Jesus, that heaven is secured by a simple, repentant cry, “Is there still room for me?” or, “Remember me when you come in Your kingdom.” (Luke 23:42)
There is always room enough for you and me under heaven’s canopy.
May you experience an extraordinary life in Christ.