I did not major in political science. I do not watch CNN or Fox News all afternoon, garnering every bit of political insight and knowledge. In spite of my political shortcomings, I did manage to hear about the death of Ted Kennedy and even watched parts of some retrospectives on his life. I never met Ted Kennedy and I have never lived in Massachusetts, but I do know that he was a long-standing senator who really cared about those in need and thought that the American government should be at the forefront of seeking justice. He was a great senator but, in spite of everything he did, there are qualifiers tagged onto his legacy. Most of those qualifiers stem from the Chappaquiddick incident and his connection with rape allegations brought against his nephew, William Kennedy Smith.
I’ve no desire to debate the efficacy of Kennedy as a senator nor do I want to tarnish his image. Looking at his death, though, can push us to think about our own and the legacy which we would like to leave behind. Our legacy is a difficult thing to think about. When I was younger it was almost impossible for me to think beyond myself and the day I was living. I couldn’t comprehend how my actions would influence others in my life and those coming after me. The decisions I made as a high school student in our church’s youth group would create and affirm a culture that would be passed down to the students following after me; this was a reality lost on me no matter how hard my youth pastor tried to get me to see it. I simply couldn’t wrap my mind around the concept of a legacy and whether or not there would be any qualifiers tied to that legacy.
Whenever I think about death and legacy, my mind always turns to my funeral and how I want to be remembered. What is the funeral or memorial service going to be like? How many people will be there? Will they play “I Can Only Imagine” instead of “Where the Streets Have No Name” and cause me to roll over in the casket right there in front of everyone? Will there be any pink elephants in the room that everyone avoids as they step up to the microphone?
“Scott was a great person, except for the alcoholism.”
“Scott was a great pastor, except he cared more about his own glory than God’s.”
“Scott was a great husband, except for all those times he cheated on his wife.”
I want my funeral to be a celebration of my life and all the things for which God was gracious enough to use me. I know that I won’t have as much influence as Ted Kennedy, my legacy won’t cast as long a shadow and won’t impact as many people. Even so, I want my legacy, no matter how small and insignificant, to be free from qualifiers; at my funeral I don’t want there to be any pink elephants in the room.
So how do we ensure a qualifier-free funeral? I think we need to live every day thinking about how that day is going to affect our legacy. Honestly, most days won’t be that legacy-altering; in 60 years no one is going to care if I eat at Wahoo’s today or if I paid close attention in staff meeting yesterday. But if we’re thinking about how every day can affect our legacy, when those legacy-altering moments come, we’ll be ready for them.
When we face a crisis situation and we have to respond, we’ll be ready to act rightly and build our legacy.
When we face temptations that could throw off the course of our lives, we’ll be ready to act rightly and build our legacy.
When we face difficult choices, we’ll be ready to act rightly and build our legacy.
Nobody is perfect. If I really wanted to make a list of the good things I’ve done and the bad things I’ve done, even at the end of my life, the bad list would be at least 4 kajillion times longer. But, for the overall direction of my life and the choices I’ve made, I want to leave a positive legacy. And not just a positive legacy, but a legacy free from any major qualifiers stemming from poor choices and stupid mistakes. I want a pink elephant-free legacy.
What legacy do you want to leave and how can you leave it?
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