How to Live Forever

How to Live Forever

May 21, 2017

Max Lucado tells a wonderful parable in his book “Outlive Your Life.”

Once upon a time, unfavorable winds blow a ship of course. The ship is in uncharted waters of the South Seas. The captain steers the ship toward six islands. The captain orders the men to drop anchor, and then goes ashore. He is a robust man with a barrel chest, full beard, and curious soul.

On the first island, he sees nothing but sadness. Under-fed children. Tribes in conflict. No farming or food development, no treatment for the sick, and no schools. Just simple, needy people.

The second and following islands reveal more of the same. The captain sighs at what he sees. “This is no life for these people” but what can he do?

Then he steps onto the last and largest island. The people are healthy and well fed. Irrigation systems nourish their fields, and roads connect the villages. The captain asks the island chief for an explanation. How has this island moved so far ahead of the others?

The chief, who is smaller than the captain but every bit his equal in confidence, gives a quick response: “Father Benjamin. He educated us in everything from agriculture to health. He built schools and clinics and dug wells.”

The captain asks, “Can you take me to where he lives?”

The chief nods and signals for two tribesmen to join him. They guide the captain over a jungle ridge to a simple but expansive medical clinic. They show the captain rows of medicine and introduce him to the staff. The captain, though impressed, sees nothing of Father Benjamin. He repeats his request, “I would like to see Father Benjamin. Can you take me to where he lives?”

The natives look puzzled. They confer among themselves. After several minutes, the chief says, “Follow us to the other side of the island.” They walk along the shoreline until they reach a series of fishponds. Canals connect the ponds to the ocean. As the tide rises, fish pass from the ocean to the ponds. The islanders lower the canal gates and trap the fish for harvest.

Again the captain is amazed but sees nothing of Father Benjamin. He wonders if he is making himself clear. He repeats his request. Again the trio talks and then they say, “Let us go up the mountain.”

They lead the captain up a steep, narrow path. After many twists and turns the path deposits them in front of a grass-roofed chapel. The voice of the chief is soft and earnest. “He has taught us about God.”

He escorts the captain inside and shows him the altar, a large wooden cross, several rows of benches, and a Bible.

“Is this where Father Benjamin lives?” the captain asks.

The men nod and smile.

“May I talk to him?”

Their faces grow suddenly serious. “Oh, that would be impossible.”

“Why?”

“He died many years ago.”

The bewildered captain stares at them. “I asked to see him, and you showed me a clinic, some fish farms, and this chapel. You said nothing of his death.”

“You didn’t ask about his death,” the chief explains. “You asked to see where he lives. We showed you.”

How many of you have had a mentor? How many of you have had your life shaped by a family member or teacher? Someone who took you under their wing and showed you possibilities?

I have had many. One such man was Mr. Jim Baxter. He was the new English teacher my junior year of high school. He was gruff and funny and didn’t take any drama from his students. He would joke and also throw an eraser at your head if you mouthed off. We called him Bax. He once gave us homework to write a 3-5 page story on some prompt that I have since forgotten. I went home, wrote it, turned it in, and forgot about it as the weekend approached.

I loved English. I love stories. It must be my Irish blood. My mom and my grandma are readers and lovers of stories; TV, movies, fiction and nonfiction. Aside from my house, I have probably spent most of my life in a library. I love stories, and I love writing stories. In my junior year, I was a mopey teen who was into fantasy and myth and science fiction. In some ways, I’m still that teen.

On Monday, Bax asked if I could stay after class. He told me to sit down and asked me, “Did you steal this from somewhere? Did you write this?”

“Y-yes…” I stammered.

“Because this is good. Really good.” Bax said. “I asked other teachers if they thought you wrote it and another teacher said, ‘If it’s really weird but really good, then it’s Lindon’s.’ I trust that you wrote this. But I will continue to verify your stuff.”

It’s good to have a reputation, I guess. This interaction built my confidence. It was good to know that I was trusted. And Bax poured into me. He gave me books he thought I’d like. He coached me and helped me with my grammar and spelling. I kept turning in my weird stories.

My senior year, Bax took me aside again. “Lindon, you’re a funny guy. You have a good sense of humor. Yet all you turn in are these depressing and bleak stories. You should try to write something funny.”

I’ve been trying ever since.

I thank God for Bax. I thank God that Bax was in my life, and he saw something in me and worked to help me hone it and nurture a gift. Bax is still alive. I can still speak with him and harass him on Facebook. Yet there are many who aren’t alive who have poured their lives into me. My grandma. Pastors who have mentored me.

We are not our own, for we have been made new through the nurturing love of so many people. We carry many lives around with us.

In today’s scripture, we are witnessing one of the final moments between Jesus and his disciples. After years of nurturing and teaching the disciples about God’s kingdom, Jesus gives them the authority to continue on with the work. “I will not leave you orphaned. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you.”

Every time I sit down to write, Bax is there with me. His words and challenge are a part of me. Just as Father Benjamin’s life is still with the tribe on that island. Those who love us and nurture us are never gone from us. They are in God, and they are in us, and we in them. We are one. It is hard to see sometimes, but there are moments, moments when I see a Cardinal at the bird feeder and I feel my grandma’s presence. Or when I hear a story and Jesus is in our midst.

In my time here, I have been listening for those giants who have nurtured you. Giants like Tom Evans and the names under the list that bears his name. Tom volunteered so much, you decided to start an award for those who give so much of their time to the church. Or A.I Root and his innovative ways and how we were the first church with electricity in Medina.

Here’s the basic truth that we miss. An apple tree’s purpose isn’t just to grow apples. I love apples, and they are tasty and healthy and do indeed grow on apple trees but they are not the point of an apple tree. The fruit of an apple tree isn’t an apple, but another apple tree. Apples are just the means to grow another apple tree.

So often, we in the church are so focused on growing apples we forget the point. The point is to grow in Christ and be Christ to the world as best we are able. We must preach the Gospel at all times, sometimes using words. Others see this and come close, and we pour our life into them and, we nurture the gifts we see in them. They see Christ in us, and we see Christ in them and we make orchards!

And years from now, there will be those who know our names who have never met us. And if not our names, they will know our works. The point isn’t to be remembered, the point is to love God and our neighbor as ourselves. To enter into the divine dance, and seek to put on the mind of Christ. And our works will bring life to a world full of death. Good News to All People!

As we endeavor to do this. As we share our life together and spend time together in the work God has given us, we become one. We become knit together. A vision of the Beloved Community of God that Jesus lived, died, and resurrected for.

Eternal life begins now. This is how to live forever. You don’t have to wait until you die to enter into eternal life. Just follow the wonderful teachings of Christ, one that he lived out in the lives of his disciples and they lived out in the lives of those who came after. “If you want to be great, serve. If you want to live forever, give your life to others.”

 

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