lifestyle

“Most people take a long time to die.

But think about it. There are those few who go suddenly. Accidents.

Heart attacks. Gang shootings. A soapy slip off the edge of the tub. But for you, chances are that at the end of your life, you will die in bed. Waiting.

While you wait, you will very likely have days, weeks even years to think back on your life. (…)

Imagine yourself there, lying in bed and reflecting.

Reading back through the chapters of your life story.

What did my life add up to?

Did I really matter?

What did I live for?

Who will remember me?

What will they say about me when I am gone?

Why was it important that I existed?

So many questions. So much time. Will you lie there with no regrets? Some regrets? Nothing but regrets?

Imagine.

Or not. I mean, you’ll probably have time to think about it when you get to that bed. So you could just wait. (Millions do.) See what comes. Wait until the final pages of your life story to see how it reads to you then.

But that’s no way to end the story of your life.

Here’s one more thing to think about: The decisions you are making today are actually making the bed you will lie in while you wait to die.



Death is a topic most people don’t like to think about. As a pastor, I spend a lot of time helping people deal with it. Life-threatening illnesses. Sudden accidents. Funerals. Grieving families.

After a death, I always ask the family to tell me what was good in the life of the deceased. The answers are revealing.

Some families start talking and can’t stop. They cry and laugh, relating story after story of a person who touched their lives, or gave their world meaning and hope. They celebrate legacy. To them, the person now dead lives on as a shining light, and unforgettable example. A hero. A gift.

Other families fall into an awkward silence. They each seem to hold their breath. They stare at the floor. I know what they are doing—they’re trying to come up with something honorable and good to say. They’re glossing over pain, explaining away failures. Sometimes they start to speak, but…

I hate those silences.” [Craig Groeshel, Chazown, Pages 15-17]