Want to know the secret of life? The entire thing in a nutshell? The why of “why we’re here”? Here it is:
Give it away.
What Really Matters
A few years ago, my Uncle Les died of cancer. He seemed fine on Mother’s Day. He was gone at the end of July. It was really hard.
Les was more than my mom’s brother. He was her friend. His family vacationed at our house for a week for years. And when my mom called me to tell me the scans showed lesions on the brain, I knew he was dying. Knew it. And my heart broke.
Eric did most of bedtime for me that night. We were still in the doublewide at the time, and I just couldn’t handle bedtime for four kids, five and under. While he managed all the final requests, I sat on the couch with a weight on my chest.
Les was dying and far too young. And for what? He’d raised six kids and been like a father to even more. His laugh could light up a room. He pastored in the same tiny community in rural New York for thirty years.
And as I sat there, listening to Eric and kids and raging at God at the unfairness of it all, all the sadness boiled down to this: Les was dying and FOR WHAT? What makes a life count, if it all just goes away in the span of a few weeks?
And in a quiet whisper, the thought came: It only counts if you give it away.
Is that Biblical?
Far too much of what we think is Christian is really christian-ish and seriously unbiblical. We have to compare everything to the words of Scripture or we will get swept away by all the currents of marketing, self-help, and social media comparisons.
So is this idea—give it away—really what God would call the secret of life? Or was it just me wanting to feel better as I held the loss of my uncle close?
No, it’s not actually in the Bible. Not as a phrase anyway. But I think it really is a biblical concept.
- Jesus lived this way. He gave away his time, his focus, his teaching, his power. He performed miracles and went to find the lonely and the hurting. Jesus went with Jairus when he asked. He came to Martha and Mary when Lazarus died. He poured himself out for three years.
- And then, Jesus died on the cross. He literally gave his life for me. For you. To cover the price for sin that we couldn’t pay. He gave it away.
- And check out Ephesians 5:2. “And walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.” Do you see it? To give your life away is the way of love, Paul says, the example Christ lived for us.
So yes, the secret of life is to give it away. Just like Jesus did. Just as love always requires.
The Secret about the Secret of Life
But what does it look like to give it away? How do we know what to do?
That is the secret of the secret of life. We each get to define it for ourselves.
What you have to give is not the same as what I have to give. There are a thousand possible ways, and we may only match in one or two. Two friends give back-to-school haircuts. My sister sings at church. Lin prays daily for dozens of requests. Other friends raise money for research.
We all have something to give, this life we’ve been given, but we don’t have to do it, we can’t do it, like anybody else.
What are your passions? Find ways to use them to give back. What are your skills? Give them away. It doesn’t always mean for free. I have ghostwritten multiple books for people who run different ministries. It’s a lot of work so I do charge, but I don’t charge very much. I make my words affordable so they can do what they’ve been called to better.
Maybe you have money? Give it. Time? Invest it. A love of balloons? Share the joy. What you have to give away isn’t going to look like what someone else has to give away. And that’s okay.
Find your way. Not my way or your mother’s way or the way some online guru recommends. Give your life away. Your way.
The Flip Side of the Secret of Life
We get to define what it looks like to give our lives away. But the flip side of that truth is that we can’t define what giving it away looks like for other people.
My uncle was a really amazing man. But he wasn’t perfect. I wouldn’t have done some things the way he did. I won’t do things the way you will. You won’t do them like me.
And that’s okay. Repeat after me: That is okay.
I get the freedom to give it away. So do you. As we give it away, as we talk about how we want to give back and change the world and love people better, there has to be grace as well.
If you’re heart is recycling (or essential oils or political involvement), great. Do that. Give back that way. Write and post about it on your social media accounts. But don’t hate on me if recycling (or the other stuff) doesn’t rank in the top ten for me.
Giving it away is always powerful and hard and beautiful. It can mean addressing the wounds of racial or economic hurts or the trauma of emotional or mental illnesses. Or providing for the practical needs of a variety of communities (the homeless, single moms, hungry kids). We can build beds and raise money and plant gardens and paint walls and give it all away. And we must.
But we also have to stop spewing hate and disrespect towards those who are doing it differently, who aren’t as far on the path as we are, or who are still trying to find their own way.
Put your things out there. Convince people if you can. But if their way looks a bit different, let it go. Just do what you’re called to do, and do it well.
A Life Worth Living
The secret of life is to give it away.
Our instinct will always be to hoard our life. But God calls us to the higher path. Jesus lived it for us, an example to follow. And the Holy Spirit enables us to do better than the selfish, sinful way we’ll always follow on our own.
My uncle gave his life away. To his family. To my family. His community and people. To his church. To God.
The first people to come to his calling hours were funeral directors, nearly a dozen of them, my mom said. My uncle was on call at every single local funeral home, available for grieving families, available to speak at funerals, just available. I’ve never seen a funeral director cry as he tucked in the fabric and closed a casket, but the one at my uncle’s funeral, he sobbed. This time, he was burying his friend.
At the funeral, the pews were filled to capacity. It was standing room only. And so people stood. The service was supposed to go an hour. It ran for two. But there was so much people needed to say. He’d meant so much. He’d laughed so much. He made the world feel so much safer.
He wasn’t perfect, my Uncle Les, but he gave it all away. Because of God. For God. For others. And so his life mattered. I want mine to count so well.
We can give it all away. And every time we do, like my Uncle Les, we see Jesus at work. That’s when he begins to change things. That’s when he begins to change us.
And that is always a beautiful thing.
