Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it.”
Matthew 16:24-25
Today is Father’s Day. Two years ago on Father’s Day was the last time I would ever see my grandfather on this side of heaven. My mother called me two days later and told me the news—Grandpa was dead. He died peacefully in his sleep at the age of 92 ½, just a few days after being at the doctor and being told he had a clean bill of health. There isn’t much more we could have asked for . . . only a few more days would have been nice. Then a few more, and a few more, always just a few more. An infinite timeline is what we would have asked for. It was not to be.
I remember the impact of those words, “Grandpa died,” as they hit my ears. I remember being surprised at a small and sudden sense of relief—one of the days I had been dreading for years had arrived, and I was still alive! This was instantaneously followed by the realization that now I would have to live the reality of my grandfather’s death. Up until then I had lived in the “before”, before my world changed. We had been in the “while”—while grandpa was still alive. From now on we would live in the “after”; after I lost one of the people whom I loved most on this earth.
The thought crossed my mind that I didn’t want to love anyone ever again and thus spare myself the terrible pain I was then experiencing. The feeling of wanting to shut myself off passed pretty quickly but still there lingered the fact that my life as it had been, whole, with the people I dearly loved had started to be dismantled. My world had felt pretty much whole before his dying, and now there was a gaping hole. And I knew this was just the beginning, that one-by-one more and more of the people I love would leave this life and enter the next, leaving me behind. I had already lost a dear neighbor, and two uncles, and now Grandpa. Life wouldn’t be the same.
As I reflected that life would go on like this, with more and more people stepping out of this life and into the next, it occurred to me that maybe I was looking at it backwards. Perhaps the purpose of life is not to start whole and strive to keep as close to one piece as possible, but rather maybe life is about giving away as much of ourselves as possible, like Jesus did.
He came whole and unblemished to this world. He grew up, from a babe, to a child to a man. Then he started dismantling his life. He left his family and carpentry and started traveling around teaching. He gave himself to the masses: teaching, preaching, praying, healing, and helping people—ultimately sacrificing himself for us, to save our souls, as he died on that crude cross. Aren’t we supposes to be like that?
Maybe we are to be like the flowers of the field in more than one respect. Maybe besides trusting God to provide for our needs, we should live our lives like a dandelion. We arrive on earth bright and full with many little petals all fresh and pure. Then, with every person we love, that we welcome into our hearts, we are in essence tearing off a petal and giving it away. The goal is not to stay a bright flower but to end up the bald little dandelion head at the end of our lives; having loved, and been loved, and giving as much of ourselves to people as possible, to as many people as possible, so that they may come to know the love of Jesus that we bask in as Christians. God, who loved us so much that He gave His Son for us, what purer love can there be. Perhaps life isn’t at all about ending up whole at the end of our lives, but rather about ending up empty, having given away every part of ourselves that we could, knowing we have done all that we could for others and for Him.