Carrying Nothing Out

One of the things I remember most significantly about the night my husband died were his boots. When I arrived home from the hospital, there they were. The boots he wore every day, working tirelessly to provide for his family. The boots I watched walk out the door to a job or task so many times. The boots that sat by the door at the end of every day waiting to be put on the next morning.

Now they laid on the floor in the basement next to where he had collapsed, sitting with remnants of dirt from the day. His last day.

The stark realization that he would never put these boots on again hit me. I just stared at them for awhile. It was only a couple of hours ago he was wearing them. They were his favorite brand and style. He wore them well. I picked them up and reverently put them away. To me, these boots represented his love for his family, for me.

I wandered into his closet, full of things he would never wear, walking past his toothbrush in the bathroom that he wouldn't use again. I realized how quickly we go from fully using all of our things to never using them again.

Our home is full of Greg's things. His garage and shed are well-organized with tools and supplies. He almost always had whatever was needed to do a job. In the basement fridge are two bottles of his favorite "Marie's" brand blue cheese dressing. It was hard to find and when we did find it, he stocked up. His wallet sits in a drawer in my bedroom, containing a driver's license and debit card that are no longer valid.

The truth of 1 Timothy 6:7 plays over and over in my mind.

"For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out."

The sobering truth is that every single material thing we have in this world will stay in this world when we leave. Nothing speaks more clearly to this than when we lose someone close to us and are left to deal with their belongings. The favorite shirt is really nothing without the person who wore it. Even the shiny truck in the garage that he meticulously washed and waxed loses it's luster without the driver and his big smile.

So what's it all about then? Certainly not the pursuit of stuff. Everything we own will someday be in a junk yard or garbage dump.

Since Greg's death, the answer comes easy. It's not about this life; it's about the next life, our eternal life. Sure, many of us say that. I said that. We know that it's true. But do we live like it's true? I didn't. But I'm determined to change that.

My relationship with Jesus is the only thing that goes with me when I leave this world. I've known Him my whole life. I'm thankful for that. But I feel like I've tapped into about two percent of what He has to offer. When the God of the Universe, my Creator, has so much power, wisdom, love, peace, and joy to give, why would I not get all I can? Because things were going okay. I had it under control. Until I didn't.

I've learned a lot of lessons over the past six months. The first one was this, you carry nothing out. What's important is showing God's love to people and spreading His Gospel message to everyone who will listen. It's a message of hope, redemption, and love that transcends this world into the next.

If you're looking for something real and lasting, try Jesus. Don't know where to start? Talk to Him, read His Word, talk to someone who knows Him, find a church that points you to Him, reach out to me, make a move. Because if you just start moving in His direction, He'll run to you, and you'll never be the same.