For the past few years, my parents, as they age, have made increasingly robust efforts to—how shall I put this delicately?—get rid of their junk. I must immediately qualify that statement in two important ways. First, I am grateful that they are running it all by their children; we get first dibs. Second, much of it is decidedly not junk: Granddaddy’s (and now Dad’s) 1960 Chevy Impala, his antique pitch pipe, the Victrola turntable, the mantle clock, and Dad’s “sorriest beard” trophy from the late ’70s are a few of the items I’ve had my eye on. The value of these heirlooms lies in their family connection and the memories more than in retail price. These treasures have not yet been distributed, and it’s unclear how exactly that will go, though I have my own suggestion about a fair method.
But this past Christmas, there was a major giveaway of some of the less sought-after pieces. Mom wrapped them all as presents and made it into a white elephant game. It was actually a lot of fun, and a clever way to pass off Grandmother’s old tablecloths and placemats and platters, slightly used “word find” and crossword puzzle books, two volumes of Josephus’ works (I already have that one), a disassembled quilting hoop, and the like. I’ll never forget my brother-in-law being presented with the old Casio keyboard that Mom bought when I was in junior high.
Slightly more seriously, we also accompanied my parents to the bank to become signers on their accounts. When I asked Mom if this meant I could take all their money now, she said that if I did, they would come move in with me. So their money is safe for now.
Why the giveaways and the bank visit? Many will recognize what my parents are doing: preparing for death. (Yes, I just cut through the euphemisms, because my space here is limited.) No, they have no terminal illness, and they are actually blessed with good health and no challenges extraordinary for people their age. And I’m actually happy that they are taking care of many of these arrangements now, while they are in good health.
The truth is that hardly anyone my age has a living grandparent left. And after the grandparents are gone, it’s sad to think of who’s next on the list. And after that generation, it’s really sad to consider who’s next! (And that order holds only if things go well!) I’m going to die. You are, too. We all have that terminal illness.
No book in the Bible deals with this fact more directly and starkly than Ecclesiastes, a book I have revisited recently. In his study of Ecclesiastes, called Living Life Backward, David Gibson encourages people to live in light of your death.
He says that we usually live life forward, only from a presentist perspective—one day follows another, turning into years, and then the end. So think about the end, and live in light of that. This is an old discipline that was more or less second nature to premodern people, for whom death was an ever-present reality. They could not so easily outsource it to the professionals, ease its agony, or distract from its inevitability as we can today.
To live with the end in mind need not be a morbid or depressing thought, for at least two reasons. First, such reflection should be accompanied by gratitude and joy. People who have had a near-death experience or a fatal diagnosis understand this. Every day is truly a gift, and that gift is appreciated more fully in light of its contingency and fragility. As such, Ecclesiastes calls out the worthless pursuits for what they are—hebel—that is, empty, futile, and fleeting, a chasing after the wind. Instead, the book teaches us to enjoy God’s good gifts as they come to us, placing them in their proper perspective.
Second, related to the first, living in light of our death is a daily reminder of what is most important and the only source of hope. This also is a source of ultimate joy and gratitude—knowing that we belong to God in Christ. As such, Ecclesiastes reminds us to fear not death, but to fear God and keep his commandments (12:13). God has placed eternity and eternal longing in our hearts, a need that is fulfilled only in Christ.
What godly parents can pass on to their descendants is much more valuable than earthly treasure (or junk): the reminder to live life backward, to live every day toward that end with joy and gratitude, knowing that the end is just the beginning.
If you're thinking about studying Ecclesiastes more deeply, we can help! Regnum Media, publishing imprint of the Center for Christian Studies, provides Bible study material for Bible classes, small groups, and personal growth. To deepen your study of Ecclesiastes, make sure to get a copy of Luke Dockery's Search for Significance: A Study of Ecclesiastes, available from Amazon in both print and Kindle.
*The headstone at the beginning of this entry reads,
In Hays County, Texas; March 28, 1884.
As husband, father, friend, and neighbor he was above reproach. For many years a professed disciple of Christ, his daily life gave lucid proof that he was sincerely one—In church relation, a Methodist, but in spirit he was a catholic Christian, whose sympathies warmly embraced the whole Israel of God—All communions mourn him gone, and on all of them may his mantle fall.
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