I’m not getting spiritual on anybody here. I believe that I will be resurrected one day. What!?! You may say. Well, here’s the deal: if we’re here for 70 or so years and we’re gone, and that’s totally it, then all of life is a sham. Seventy years is nothing compared with not living – not even existing – for an infinite number of days in the future.
Wow. That feels messed up to think about. Yeah, think about it for a minute. Have you ever done that? I do it too often probably. I think about what it would be like to not exist. To not be.
I have to believe in resurrection because it’s the only way for me to not be depressed about eminent death. It knocks at the door for us all and there seems to be no way to stop it. I recently tweeted out a couple things regarding life and death – actually, more about how to live… (You have to read the bottom one first.)
So I asked myself the same questions. Here’s what I’ve decided:
1. Yep, I’d do a few things differently.
Here’s what I *would* do:
- Buy that really sweet acoustic guitar I’ve always wanted but never thought I could afford.
- Buy a vintage tube amp and jam on it. Cranked.
- Write music. A lot. Then I’d record it.
- Go on a trip to somewhere cool with my family.
- Buy an iPhone.
- Listen to music constantly.
- Make my wife take off a couple weeks of work.
- Finally get that Last Will and Testament written up 🙂
- Take lots of pictures.
- Eat a lots of pizza.
- Go for a run or hike or something.
- Say goodbye. Probably have a party.
- Be really scared.
- Read the Bible.
- Share with people about what I think living is all about.
- Blog about what it’s like to know exactly when you’re going to die.
And here’s what I *wouldn’t* do:
- Waste my time watching movies or TV shows (you know deep down it’s just a waste of time)
- Put off saying sorry.
- Get upset at my boy for stupid stuff.
- Worry about backing up hard drives.
- Record other peoples’ music (sorry currently scheduled friends)
- Teach guitar lessons (sorry students! you know I love ya!)
- Try to meet the grim reaper early.
- Check my Facebook wall.
- Exercise rigorously.
And so, I hope to be resurrected one day. Why? Because I don’t want to die. And I have to hope – because the alternative is terrifying.
Here you have it. The resurrected blog. About stuff that I think matters. Because talking about anything else is just like vegging out in front of the box. Get out. Do something. Be intentional. Stop reading my blog.
More posts coming soon, as I see fit.
Raising kids is hard. It’s a complicated process that never ends – not even when they’re “grown up” and out of the house. That’s because as we teach our children, we’re also ourselves learning how to teach them. And every lesson taught – and learned – or re-taught and re-learned – is again another new lesson – because the circumstances have changed: you’re older, the child is older, the day’s events are different, and every variable is different. The weather is different, too!
Raising kids is complicated – not just because it is – but because it’s what we call life. Life is complicated. There are new variables every single day. You can’t even perform the same, simple task the same way from one day to the next. Take a less simple task as an example: you learn to walk as a toddler. Then you run. Then you gain speed and mobility. You train. You run further, faster, longer. Then you get older. You lose some of your edge. And sometimes, you lose your ability to run at all. Or even walk. You can’t approach running in the same way from one day to the next because you’re not the same person from one day to the next. Life changes. It’s one of only two constants*.
But here’s the deal: some of the most memorable moments in the last six years of my feeble existence have been spent with my children. Those moments almost always relate to something they’ve done – a laugh, a tumble, a word or sentence, a mess.
These moments make you realize that yeah, as cliche as it sounds, you wouldn’t trade your kids or these hard days for the world. Psalm 127:3. This post has made me start to think about some of those moments in my own life, going as far back as I can remember. I think I’m going to try to compile a list of them and post them here over the next year or so. (It will take a while to remember them, to think through the years, and I don’t want to miss any.)
If you’re wondering what that picture is in this post, it’s my son’s bedroom after he decided to remove all of his books from the bookshelf.