About a week ago, I was tagged in a Facebook post that caught me completely off guard. 

A friend of a friend mistakenly tagged me in their post for a GoFundMe account for a friend of theirs who recently died.  They were raising money to help support the family in the aftermath of their passing. 

Why I say I was mistakenly tagged in this post is that the name of the man who died was also, Bobby Brooks.  He was also a minister, a youth pastor, a husband, and a father. 

As I saw this friend of a friend celebrate the life of this man who shares my name, an unexpected sacredness fell upon that moment. It was sobering.  It was alarming.  Honestly, it was a wake-up call.

In the past few weeks, I’ve found myself routinely reminded of the brevity of life.

A clergy colleague and friend passed away.  Three friends of mine are preparing to bury loved ones.  Multiple family members and friends have contacted COVID (most are okay, but several are struggling to get ahead of the disease and find themselves in precarious situations still).

Beyond these personal connections, the tragedies in Cuba, Haiti, and Afghanistan continue to break our hearts.  As I write, Hurricane Ida continues to batter the Gulf Coast of our country. 

Death, disease, destruction – it’s always been here, but lately it feels like it’s everywhere.  Recently, it feels like it is all there is.  While I know this is not the case, what we know to be true and what we feel to be true are often worlds apart. 

James teaches us that our lives are like a vapor – here for a moment and gone before we know it (James 4:14).  Psalm 144:4 says our life is but a breath – blink and you’ll miss it.  The Prophet Isaiah tells us that our lives are no different than the grass and flowers of the field – here today and gone tomorrow (Isaiah 40:6).

Vapor.  Breath.  Grass.  How frail we are and how unknown to us is the time we have! 

As I read the Facebook post in honor of this man who died who shared my name and as these words of scripture about the brevity of life poured through my mind, I began to wonder:

Am I wasting mine?  The life God has given me – am I making the most of it?  The breath in my lungs… am I honoring this gift or squandering it on petty squabbles and non-eternal realities?  As I chase those extra hours in the office, should I instead be chasing my kids?  As I push to have the last word in some conversation – what if those were my last words?  How is it that I can give my undivided attention to a box projecting images onto a screen – be it my phone, computer, or TV – yet I find it nearly impossible to sit and listen to the person sitting across from me, a person created in God’s image who Jesus died to save?

Am I making the most of each breath knowing that the next isn’t guaranteed?  Am I making the most of each day knowing that tomorrow isn’t promised? 

While I do not want to hyper-spiritualize the pain so many are experiencing in these trying times, perhaps these dark and difficult days are a time for all of us to seriously reevaluate what truly makes life, life.  After all, Jesus said He alone is our source for life and joy (John 10:10).  Maybe this is a time to ask God to search us and expose anything and everything in us that is not of Him (Psalm 139).  Perhaps this is a season to reevaluate who and what we’ve been living for, what it’s producing in us, and whether or not it’s making Jesus credible, beautiful, and trustworthy in the eyes of those who don’t yet know Him. 

I don’t have an easy or obvious next step out of this experience – only a growing sense that if God has entrusted us with life at this time, during these difficult days, I want mine to count.  I want to bless.  I want mine to be one in which I’ve done justice, loved mercy, and walked humbly with God (Micah 6:8). 

Clearly, I’m not there yet.  My bet is we’ve all got room to grow, but in this time where there is so much death and darkness, maybe that’s how the light of Jesus Christ can shine through us: we grow.  We grow in love.  We grow in Christ-like maturity.  We grow in spiritual authority, humility, and grace.  So, in the darkness of this day, may we be people who continue to grow in Christ, slowly, humbly, patiently, and as we do, may we make every breath count for the glory of God and the sake of the world. 

One last thing – as I’ve processed all this, I’ve been reminded of the song “Worlds Apart” by Jars of Clay.  It’s an oldie, but feels appropriate for these times.  If you’re unfamiliar with it, you can find it here. 

Here are some of the lyrics from the bridge of the song that have been echoing in my mind these past few days:

“I look beyond the empty cross
Forgetting what my life has cost
And wipe away the crimson stains
Dull the nails that still remains
More and more I need You now
I owe You more each passing hour
Battle between grace and pride
Gave up not so long ago
So steal my heart and take the pain
And wash the feet and cleanse my pride
Take the selfish, take the weak
And all the things I cannot hide
Take the beauty, take my tears
Sin-soaked heart, make it Yours
Take my world all apart
Take it now, take it now”