How will I be remembered?

Mary DeMuth is a wonderful Christian writer and speaker. She recently told this story to our writer's group and I wanted to share it with you here. I've changed the names (other than Mary's) to preserve the family's privacy.

A few hours ago, I heard of a friend's passing. He was a little over my age.
From the time he was diagnosed with cancer until the time of his death was a
few days shy of two months. When I heard the news of his death, I painted a
picture, my way of getting my grief on the page, of picturing the glory he¹s
experiencing now. My friend adored Jesus and wanted to be a full-time
missionary alongside his wife and two children. They sold their larger house
and got out of debt so they could go at any moment¹s notice. When he heard
we were headed to France, he was pumped for us. And he prayed. And when he
heard the news about the stage four cancer in nearly every organ in his
body, he prayed God would get all the glory. He felt his cancer was his
mission field.

He asked me to write a story about his life for our church¹s magazine. In
doing so, I was changed. And even as I type this now, I¹m profoundly
challenged by his life. Suddenly my petty insecurities seem terribly small.
And my worries about life's stress. And my fretting about the writing
business.

I asked him how he wanted to be remembered. His response: "I'd like to be
remembered by each individual in the way that gives God the most glory,"
Bob said. "So, if someone remembers me as a great family man and that
inspires him to be more of a family man, then so be it. Or, if it's being
remembered as someone passionate about missions, then so be it."

That's my question for myself. Am I willing to be remembered in the way that
God gets the absolute most glory? Am I willing to be broken and spilled out
for the sake of His Name? Have I placed my career over His renown?

Bob's passing shocked me back to reality, made me long again for that
simple and pure faith, the kind of holy acts that are often unseen and
unheralded. Ecclesiastes 7:2 reminded me today: "It is better to go to a
house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting. Because that is the end
of every man, and the living takes it to heart."

I am taking it to heart, praising God for a man who lived well, who longed
to see God's kingdom expand. And I pray that I'll be the kind of
Christ-follower who will take up the baton, abandon myself afresh to His
call, and lay those things I try to take back to myself on the altar once
again. I'm clay-footed, needy, and foolish, but I'm constantly astounded
that God would stoop to earth, find me, and choose to use me anyway. What a
privilege. What a responsibility. What an amazing God.

Thanks for letting me process this as I type,
Mary DeMuth

Mary, thanks for sharing this with my readers. Any of you who want to know more about Mary or her books, please visit www.marydemuth.com
Harry