Don't Waste Your Life
The Secret to Flourishing
This June, Lord willing, I will celebrate my 50th trip around the sun. A half century of life! It sounds remarkable, and I suppose it is—each year I’m given here truly is a gift. I know of so many who never made it even this far into life.
Honestly, I’ve never gotten too hung up on my age. Sure, most of my youth was spent longing to be “old enough” to do this, that, or that other, but on the whole, it’s always just been a number to me. So when I tore December’s page off the calendar nearly a month ago and came face to face with the year 2025, I was surprised to feel a certain pang in my chest.
My husband and I are in an interesting place in our lives right now. As we didn’t meet and marry until our 30s, we also had our boys later too. Many of our high school classmates had children already in their teens when our youngest was born. We even attended my 20th high school class reunion while 8 months pregnant with him! (You should have seen their surprised faces!) So now, 12 years later, in one direction we see retirement just peering over the horizon while in the opposite direction we see young boys who still very much need us.
Retirement has become a frequent topic of discussion as of late. How much will need saved? Are we on track? What dreams do we have once Rich steps away from work and the boys are successfully launched? It’s an exciting time—but there is much groundwork that still needs laid before we arrive.
A Lasting Impact
Recently, I revisited a speech Rich shared with me a few years ago comparing two different ways to spend the “twilight years.” It was a speech that impacted many—and as I sit on the precipice of my 50th birthday, I find myself contemplating its message again; this time tuned in to its implications for my life personally.
“Don’t waste your life!” John Piper pleaded to a crowd of 40,000 college students.
Twenty-five years ago this May, he stood before tens of thousands of restless, cold, and uncomfortable 20-somethings sitting on the damp spring ground. Though most had never heard of John Piper before that day, he gave them a life-changing speech they had never forgotten.1
“Three weeks ago, we got news at our church that Ruby Eliason and Laura Edwards were killed in Cameroon. Ruby Eliason—over 80, single all her life, a nurse—poured her life out for one thing: to make Jesus Christ known among the sick and the poor in the hardest and most unreached places. Laura Edwards, a medical doctor in the Twin Cities, and in her retirement, partnered up with Ruby. Also pushing 80 and going from village to village in Cameroon. The brakes give way, over the cliff they go, and they’re dead instantly.
And I asked my people, “Is this a tragedy?” Two women, in their 80s, a whole life devoted to one idea—Jesus Christ magnified among the poor and the sick in the hardest places. And 20 years after most of their American counterparts had begun to throw their lives away on trivialities in Florida and New Mexico. They fly into eternity in an instant. Is this a tragedy?
It is not a tragedy. I’ll read you what a tragedy is.” Pulling out a page from Reader’s Digest, he reads: ‘Bob and Penny…took early retirement from their jobs in the Northeast 5 years ago when he was 59 and she was 51. Now they live in Punta Gorda, Florida where they cruise on their 30-foot trawler, play softball, and collect shells.’
That’s a tragedy,” he tells the crowd. “And there are people in this country that are spending billions of dollars to get you to buy it. And I get 40 minutes to plead with you—don’t buy it! With all my heart I plead with you—don’t buy that dream as the last chapter before you stand before the Creator of the universe to give an account with what you did: “Here it is Lord—my shell collection.”
“Don’t waste your life,” he implored.
Lessons from a Death Sentence
In the American Literature class I taught to high school juniors, we read Mitch Albom’s Tuesdays with Morrie. It’s a beautiful, yet painful, true story of sociology professor Morrie Schwartz and his 15 month battle with ALS (aka Lou Gehrig’s disease).
Amidst the tortuous descriptions of how the disease ravaged Morrie’s dying body, were numerous aphorisms he shared with Mitch. Dying had taught him more, in some ways, than the preceding 77 years of life had. “Everybody knows they’re going to die,” he assured his friend, “but nobody believes it.”
Sometimes it takes a health scare or painful diagnosis to shift our perspective on time and accept the truth that Morrie said we ignore. The inspiration behind country singer Tim Mcgraw’s song, “Live Like You Were Dying,” for example, was stories of friends and family who were given a limited time to live and wanted to make the most of their remaining time on earth.
He said
"I was in my early forties
With a lot of life before me
When a moment came that stopped me on a dime
I spent most of the next days
Looking at the x-rays
And talkin' 'bout the options
And talkin' 'bout sweet time"
I asked him
"When it sank in
That this might really be the real end
How's it hit you
When you get that kind of news?
Man, what'd you do?"
And he said
"I went skydiving
I went Rocky Mountain climbing
I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fumanchu
And I loved deeper
And I spoke sweeter
And I gave forgiveness I'd been denying"
And he said
"Someday I hope you get the chance
To live like you were dying"2
What strikes me is the wording in the last line: “Someday I hope you get the chance to live like you were dying.” I hear it this way: ‘I hope one day you make the time to really live.’ Which then makes me think of what is left unsaid here—that most of the time, we’re not really living.
The song was an enormous success. Billboard (an American music and entertainment magazine) ranked it the biggest country song of 2004 and it won several awards, including Single of the Year and Song of the Year at the 2004 Country Music Association Awards and at the 2004 Academy of Country Music Awards and the 2004 Grammy Award for Best Country Song.
Seems it struck a chord.
Don’t we all want to live life to the fullest? Why does it take something like a cancer diagnosis to make us realize we’re not? And what does “full living” look like anyway?
Jesus says He came “so that they could have life—indeed, so that they could have life to the fullest.” Abundant life. Not just life that survives. Flourishing life!
The Paradox of Flourishing
Andy Crouch opens his book, Strong and Weak, by giving us the two questions that every person asks: “The first: What are we meant to be? The second: Why are we so far from what we’re meant to be?” His answer to the first question? “We are meant to flourish—not just to survive, but to thrive; not just to exist, but to explore and expand. To flourish is to be fully alive.”3
My Golden Pathos is a tenacious plant. Root-bound, parched, in the dark—it clings to life; the picture of Dylan Thomas’ rallying cry to “Rage, rage against the dying of the light” (in plant form). But “clinging to life” is not what Jesus came to offer us. Barely alive is not living fully.
Second century church father, Irenaeus, wrote “Gloria Dei vivens homo” which has been loosely translated in the popular expression: “The glory of God is a human being fully alive.” Crouch explains: “To live fully, in these transitory lives on this fragile earth, in such a way that we somehow participate in the glory of God—that would be flourishing.”4
In his book, Andy explains that the way to live abundantly is to embrace what he calls “the paradox of flourishing.” In this paradox, we lean into both our strengths and our weaknesses. Both authority and vulnerability. Our capacity for meaningful action and our frailty. The idea of this makes us afraid and we flee from it. Not only does the suggestion of embracing vulnerability make us uncomfortable, but (surprisingly) so does the idea of leaning into our strength.
To help his readers better grasp the idea of “The Paradox of Flourishing,” he uses an illustration of a 2x2 grid. The grid is created by the intersecting lines of “authority” and “vulnerability.”
Only when both authority (our capacity for meaningful action) and vulnerability (risk of meaningful loss) are high will we experience full, abundant, flourishing life. The other three quadrants are pictures of non-thriving life. When authority is low and vulnerability is high, we experience suffering. When both authority and vulnerability is low we are withdrawn into safety, or worse, apathy. And when authority is high but vulnerability is low, we are in a position of power, or tyranny at worst.
When you see these two photos which looks more like a definition of “flourishing?”
Before reading Strong and Weak, I would have absolutely said the second photo. These two photos essentially represent the two examples in John Piper’s speech. (It’s difficult to find an adequate photo of Christian missionaries making Jesus Christ known among the poor, so let’s use our imaginations…) If you recall, Piper called the second photo (as a way of life) a tragedy.
Most of us are far more willing to move up (towards more authority) than we are to move right (towards greater vulnerability) because the former stands to gain, while the latter risks loss. For many of us, the fear of loss far outweighs any chance of gain. Generally speaking, we have a tendency for “loss aversion.” Given $50 for free and a choice to walk away with it or wager it for a chance to win $500—I’ll walk away with my certain $50 every time. (I’d have made a terrible contestant on “Who Wants to be a Millionaire?” haha!) The interesting thing is just a moment ago, I didn’t even have that $50. Once I have it though, I’m not going to risk losing it. Once I have it, I’m going to keep it.
“The vulnerability that leads to flourishing requires risk, which is the possibility of loss—that chance that when we act, we will lose something we value… To be vulnerable is to be exposed to the possibility of loss—and not just loss of things or possessions, but loss of our own sense of self.”5
The Dangers of Wealth
Many years ago, a friend of mine told me her husband had uncharacteristically bought a Powerball lottery ticket the previous week. The jackpot had reached into the tens of millions. She couldn’t believe he’d bought a ticket and told him she was going to pray he would not win. I secretly wondered what would be so wrong with winning? My friend understood then what I’m only coming to understand now about the dangers of wealth.
In Paul’s first letter to his protege, Timothy, Paul hoped to encourage the young pastor to not only look after the orderliness of his church, but also the orderliness of his congregates’ hearts. As a major commercial port on the Mediterranean Sea, Ephesus was a wealthy city. Its citizens were known to be prosperous, sophisticated, and highly cultured.
In 1 Timothy 6, Paul warns Timothy of the destructive nature of greed and advises him to “flee from it” and pursue instead “righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance, and gentleness.” After warning him to take great care in guarding his heart from greed, Paul turns to the flock in Timothy’s care:
“Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment. Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share. In this way they will lay up treasure for themselves as a firm foundation for the coming age, so that they may take hold of the life that is truly life.” (1 Timothy 6:17-19)
The American Dream of prosperity does not promise the “flourishing life” Jesus came to give. An abundant life isn’t just having a lot of material wealth and prestige and knowledge and authority and power. Paul urged Timothy to lead his wealthy congregation toward “the life that is truly life,” which means there is life that is not really life. And it seems the most at risk for missing true life are the rich.
“Affluence cannot ultimately remove the vulnerability that is our human condition and our true human calling, but it can swaddle you in so many layers of insulation that you will never be able to fully feel it—or to freely move. It can keep you swaddled far beyond your tender years, well into an adulthood of risk-averse entitlement,” clarifies Couch.6
Your One Wild and Precious Life
One of my pastors said in a sermon that the two things killing the American Church right now is prosperity and comfort. I think the reason the second photo above is so alluring to so many (myself included) is because to withdraw from both meaningful action (authority) and meaningful risk (vulnerability) removes the weight of responsibility and accountability both demand.
But we were made for more. As the saying goes “The comfort zone is a beautiful place, but nothing ever grows there.” I love to remember the wisdom from C.T. Studd’s beautiful poem “Only One Life.”
“Only one life, ‘twill soon be past. Only what’s done for Christ will last.”7
To experience flourishing life, we must become more like the One who has the highest authority and who also embraced the greatest vulnerability—Jesus Christ. “No human being ever embodied flourishing more than Jesus of Nazareth. No human life (let alone death) ever unleashed more flourishing for others,” states Couch.8
In the grip of the idols of comfort and prosperity, we believe that our problem is not enough authority. Life becomes a quest to acquire enough authority to manage and minimize our vulnerability. But Jesus teaches us to embrace the opposite. Using the resources, gifts, and strengths He’s given us, He calls us to enter into the lives around us and willingly step into vulnerability for His sake.
In Matthew 16, Jesus tells his disciples, “Whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. What good will it be for a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?”
Clenching your fist around your life in order to preserve it is like clenching your fist around water. A closed fist can neither fill nor be filled. But those who open their hands and empty themselves—spend themselves—for the sake of another will find themselves full to overflowing with Life. To empty oneself for the sake of another creates vulnerability and risk of loss, but in Kingdom currency, loss for Christ’s sake can only mean the richest gain.
A Prayer for Wise Spending
Teach us to number our days, dear Father, so that we might gain hearts of wisdom. Help us to redeem the time and spend it wisely for there are many alluring distractions threatening to cloud our vision of You. Fan the flames of our love for You until our lips and hearts can say together that You are better than life. You are the Treasure we seek. Remind us of Your truth that to empty ourselves for Your sake is to find life that is really life. Amen.
Read this article which reflects on Piper’s speech and its lasting implications. Included are interviews of attendees and how Piper’s speech changed their lives.
Craig Michael Wiseman, James Timothy Nichols, Tim Nichols (Songwriters) 2004. “Live Like You Were Dying.” Recorded by Tim Mcgraw.
Andy Crouch. Strong and Weak: Embracing a Life of Love, Risk & True Flourishing. InterVarsity Press: 2016. p. 9-10
Ibid. p. 11
Ibid. p. 41
Ibid. p. 76-77
Read the entire wonderful poem here: Only One Life
Andy Crouch. Strong and Weak. p. 19
Thanks for this Vanessa. I listened to John Piper tell that story a number of years ago via YouTube and it never fails to inspire.
Excellent! Now that I am approaching 73, you dove right into what my big toe has been testing!