Sunday’s sermon was about having an eternal perspective, and the preacher mentioned the practice of writing an eulogy. I thought it could be a meaningful exercise to help me live more missionally, with eternity in mind. I want to number my days, weigh my decisions carefully, and fix my eyes on Jesus, as Pastor Sam Gibson encouraged us to do.
Psalm 90:12 says:
“So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.”
Then I remembered that I had actually written something back in January. It’s not a comprehensive eulogy, but it contains some thoughts about how I would want my physical remains to be handled and, more importantly, how I would want people to honor the legacy I leave behind:
If one day I die, cremate me and throw my ashes in a trash can. Bury me in the cheapest possible grave, one that does not ask you for money year after year, or place me in a mass grave. Do not buy me a headstone. Do not carve my name in a stone. Do not seal my body in a coffin as if it needed protection. Throw my body into the ocean, or feed me to the animals, or let those medical schools split open my skull and gorge my eyeballs. This body is nothing; it will all become dust in the end. I want to be forgotten. Do not build a memorial for me. Do not try to preserve me. I do not want to be remembered, except for the grace of God in my life.
But what about the people who will miss you, you might ask. Where will they go if they want a place to honor you?
Let me say this.
If you miss me enough to want to keep a memorial of me, then let us meet again.
Let us have our reunion in Heaven. We will see each other again if you put your faith in Jesus.
And that, not a grave, not a marker, will be the best way to honor my legacy.