How To Live a Life That Matters
Recently I attended the funeral of a special man who, even in death, taught me the value of living out God’s purpose for my life. In more than sixty years of ministry, Bishop T.F. Tenney never cheated on his wife, alienated his children, stole money, disrespected women, or served people because of what he could get out of it.
In fact, he always made it obvious that his surviving wife, Thetus, was the most valuable thing to him on this earth. (Being a gifted minister in her own right, Thetus would often share speaking duties with him in his domestic and international travels.)
I’m not trying to deify Bishop Tenney as I’m sure he dealt with his own fallenness like the rest of us do. But Jesus did say of John, “among those born of women, there is no one greater than John.” I’m not Jesus and Bishop Tenney wasn’t John, but among the mere mortals I’ve rubbed shoulders with for forty-one years, Bishop Tenney was best of class.
And I’m not the only one who believed that.
It would have been impossible to count of the number of stories told about the personal impact he had on the lives of the throng who traveled to central Louisiana to memorialize him, but there was one story I was told that bears repeating.
Taking Time for A Young Preacher
As I was in the receiving line with my middle age pastor friend, he looked at me and said, “I wouldn’t be a pastor today if it wasn’t for Bishop Tenney.”
“Really?” I said. “Do tell.”
My friend went on to tell me the story of how Bishop Tenney helped him find direction as a young minister.
The story goes that, about fifteen years ago, my friend had a burning desire to start a church. The problem was that he had no training, no ministry background, and no resources.
Bishop Tenney helped him with that.
After bumping into him at a conference, my friend relayed his holy aspirations to Bishop Tenney. With the wisdom that was one of his hallmarks, Bishop Tenney sensed my friend was headed for trouble if he didn’t get some help.
Within the next few days, the Bishop made a few phone calls on behalf of my friend and set him up to serve under a veteran pastor who could fix his inexperience problem. My friend’s life was unequivocally changed by serving that pastor over the next ten years.
Three years ago, when my friend finally started that church, he didn’t do so with no ministry background, no training, and no resources. As a result, his church is thriving in that community today.
My friend directly attributes his ministry success to the kindness and leadership and willingness of Bishop T.F. Tenney to take time to help a lost, young preacher.
“I want my life to matter.”
My friend wrapped up this story just before we made it to the casket. We somewhat kept it together as we looked upon the face of our deceased role model one final time. As we made our way past the casket, my friend looked up at the huge video screen displaying a picture of our great patriarch, and with tears in his eyes said something I won’t soon forget.
He said, “Jathan, I want my life to matter.”
This statement moved me deeply not so much because of what my friend said, but because of what he didn’t.
You see, when our life on this earth is done, so much of what we are told to live for and pursue and hustle to achieve will never make it into our receiving-line stories.
If all we’ve lived for are our personal freedom, vacations, professional achievements, expensive meals, and social media “likes”, exactly no one will look up from our casket and be compelled to say, “I want my life to matter.”
I listened to a sermon by John Piper last week that that drives this home.
Don’t Waste Your Life
Eighteen years ago, John Piper preached a sermon to forty-thousand college students at a conference in Memphis, Tennessee. The unofficial title of the sermon was, “Don’t Waste Your Life.” (The official title is “Boasting Only in The Cross)
You can watch that sermon here.
Piper opens the message by telling the story of two ladies from his church who died in a fatal car accident the week before he delivered the message.
As the story goes, the two ladies, Ruby and Laura, were in The Cameroon, Africa when the brakes on their vehicle failed and they plunged over a cliff to their immediate deaths. These two octogenarians were retired medical professionals who had given their latter years to bringing the gospel of Jesus Christ to the poor and sick in some of the hardest to reach places in the world. Places like The Cameroon, Africa.
As he preached their memorial service, Piper asked the audience, “Is this a tragedy? Is this a tragedy that these two women, in the final leg of their earthly journey suddenly go their final reward while bringing the gospel of Jesus Christ to a difficult place?”
Piper answered the question by telling a different kind of story, one from Reader’s Digest titled, “Start Now, Retire Early.”
The story read, “Bob and Penney took early retirement from their jobs five years ago in the northeast when he was fifty-nine and she was fifty-one. Now they live in Punta Gorda, Florida where they cruise on their thirty-foot trawler, play softball, and collect shells.”
Piper commented, “That’s a tragedy. As the last chapter before you stand before the creator of the universe to give an account with what you did, ‘here it is, Lord. My shell collection.’ ”
If this is a tragedy, based on a recent trip to my local bookstore, it doesn’t seem to be scaring us much.
The 4-Hour Workweek Problem
I haven’t been to Barnes and Noble in forever, but a recent foray through the dying bookstore chain revealed two things. First, I was reminded why I order from Amazon. (Amazon is cheaper and I can actually find what I’m looking for). Secondly, it is clear that the Bob and Penney tragedy isn’t going away. In fact, it’s getting worse.
I came to this conclusion while perusing the Business section and noticing how prominently Tim Ferris’ The 4-Hour Workweek is still displayed.
Ferris’ book is impossible to miss. First of all, the title was liberally stacked and arranged right there at eye level. Second, the alluring image of a hammock, lazily dangling between two perfectly placed palm trees, jumps right off the front cover and straight into an empty place in your heart. After reading the inside flap, it’s not hard to guess why.
Here’s what it says:
Forget the old concept of retirement and the rest of the deferred-life plan–there is no need to wait and every reason not to, especially in unpredictable economic times. Whether your dream is escaping the rat race, experiencing high-end world travel, or earning a monthly five-figure income with zero management, The 4-Hour Workweek is the blueprint.
In other words, why wait until your mid-fifties like Bob and Penney to abandon yourself to trivial pursuit? Noway! Start now, in your twenties, thirties, forties, and start living a life that matters.
And judging by the Amazon sales, the masses are still buying this idea hook, line, and sinker.
(On Amazon.com, The 4-Hour Workweek still sells 150 copies per day of the hardcover version alone!)
I’m not saying that we shouldn’t look to live a life free from “working for the man”. Nor am I saying that working hard while one is young and enjoying the fruits of that labor isn’t well deserved. And believe me, there is no glory whatsoever in letting a job you hate grind you into a broken down angry old man or woman day after day.
All I know is that standing in front of the casket of one of the greatest men I ever knew had me looking around for some young minister to encourage, some homeless shelter to donate my time to, or some anxiety-ridden teenager to pray with. A hammock between two palm trees was the last thing on my mind. Probably because it was always the last thing on his
I think God is trying to tell me something.
If I’ll listen, who knows, perhaps someday a middle-man who is just getting his stride will pass by my casket and feel compelled to say, “I want my life to matter.”
What About You?
Do you have a role model that has really impacted your life? In what way have they inspired you to follow in his or her footsteps? What does it mean to you, to live a life that matters?
Let me know in the “comments” section below. I would love to hear from you.
I know ‘Jesus’ probably isn’t the role model you were thinking of, but — I can’t help it; He’s the only one I can think of. He brought me back after — THIRTY-FIVE years of backsliding.
The best role model I can think of. So glad to hear your testimony!