I lost two friends within eight days. Each trusted Jesus as his personal Savior decades ago. Each referred to themselves as Christian, and each attended church regularly. Yet, that’s where the similarities ended. They lived and died quite differently; And they left completely different legacies.
The first man was professionally respected. He had a job many men envied. It provided adventure, challenge, and significant compensation. He was single, physically fit, and wealthy. He had fast cars, big boats, the right house, and the most expensive memberships. But he let all of that define him. His confidence, his self-esteem, and his very identity were perched precariously upon his professional position, financial status, personal accomplishments, and latest conquests. He lived for the chase, whether it was the next deal, another adventure, or someone else’s wife. He was the consummate “playboy.”
He claimed Jesus as his Savior, though he relied on a momentary decision in his past and never submitted to the Lordship of Christ. There was no evidence of gratitude, no commitment to the Word, no desire for growth. For years, he loved his life and his reflection in the mirror more than he loved Jesus or others, and he had a reputation for using people, rather than serving them. Peace eluded him.
Eventually, his life became, in his words, “hollow, shallow, and worthless.” There were never enough toys, adventures, money, or women. While some still envied what he had, his chase eroded into a dark, seemingly endless trail of lonely, foolish futility, until he ended it by his own hand. He died alone, leaving first responders with no clear person to call. He left more possessions than loved ones.
The second man was also professionally respected. Though, for the life of me I can’t remember what kind of work Bill did. I met Bill over twenty years ago while serving together in a prison ministry, and he had already retired. He took me to lunch a few weeks later and told me about his past, but I’ve long forgotten the details of that conversation. Bill’s identity was in Jesus. Bill lived in a nice upscale area and drove nice cars, but I never really noticed any of that. Instead, it was his kind, gentle, encouraging spirit and servant-hearted approach to life that everyone noticed. Bill loved Jesus and loved people, and it showed. I don’t know what Bill was like before he trusted Jesus as his Lord and Savior. But I love the man he became.
Bill knew what it meant to abide in Jesus. Bill knew that he was called not only to a one-time decision to trust Jesus, but also to an on-going day-by-day process of loving, listening, believing, repenting, and trusting Jesus. Bill walked with Jesus for decades. Often, as I watched Bill respond to people and circumstances, I thought, “That’s exactly what Jesus would say or do in that situation.” For over 20 years, Bill encouraged me every time we were together. He also taught me the value of handwritten notes, writing multiple notes of encouragement to me every year for more than 20 years. Recently, I’ve heard that he sent many handwritten notes encouraging his friends.
Bill passed away last week surrounded by family. I’m a part of a couple of email and text groups created for the sole purpose of allowing dozens of Bill’s friends to share fond memories and thoughts. Each time I look at my phone, it seems there are more positive comments about Bill. The consensus is that Bill lived and lives a great life. He lived and loved well in this life and is being loved well in the next. Bill abided in Jesus, and now he continues to abide in Jesus. I’m typing with a lump in my throat, a tear in my eye, and a void in my life. Though the fruit of Bill’s abiding in Jesus has made me a better man.
“I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.” Jesus in John 15:5 (ESV)