We all have established goals for ourselves in life. We don’t always achieve all of them, but most of us achieve at least a few. Some goals are dropped from our “to do” list because as we grow older, our ideas and desires change and they are no longer important to us. Conversely, we also add new goals to our list that we hadn’t planned on.

Whether planned or not, each of us could enumerate our accomplishments, and for some they may be considerable. However, when life on this earth is over, which of those accomplishments will really matter? What will be the epitaph that marks your life? Will it be that you were a good father or mother? Were you a dependable and trustworthy friend? Will those left behind remember you for your sense of humor or selfless spirit?

Many years ago I was the Petty Officer in Charge of a military color guard whose primary function was to conduct graveside ceremonies for veterans who had passed away. Often we were required to attend the actual funeral services of those who we would later honor. As a student of human nature, attendance for me was an opportunity to observe and learn about people.

One of the unexpected things that I learned from my experiences was that bad people never pass away. Only good people die. Without exception, those whose funerals I attended were lauded and honored by the presiding minister for being wonderful people. It didn’t matter who they were or what they had done (or not done) only positive things were mentioned at the service. In more than 100 funerals I never heard a negative comment uttered, even when they were well-deserved.

For instance, I attended one service where the deceased had deserted his family many years earlier to become an open road biker. He had been a member of a gang that was notorious for being in trouble with the law. He had been personally responsible for the gang’s illegal drug trafficking and money laundering. No matter, the minister saluted him for having been a great family man and heaped lavish praises upon him.

I suppose for the sake of those left behind this was appropriate, but the minister’s words did not accurately represent the sum of this man’s life. He had not earned the honor that was being given to him. It reminded me that praise can be cheap and accomplishments really don’t mean much if non-accomplishments can receive the same level of recognition.

As I consider my own life, I feel very strongly that I do not want anyone embellishing upon my accomplishments and achievements as that minister did for the biker dad. At the time when recognition was given for good things that I had done, it was a great moment in my life. As I age however, the significance and importance of those times has faded.

As I draw nearer to departing this life, only my service to the Lord seems to be important to me. Any honor I received for earthly achievement just doesn’t seem very important anymore. Still, like everyone else, I would like to be remembered; I want my life to have counted for something. As morbid as it may seem for someone to dwell on their own passing, I frequently think about it. In particular, I think about my headstone and what will be written upon it. My legacy is very important to me. What few words will capture what I want people to remember me for? It has to be brief. It has to be honest. But above all, it has to define my life in terms of my relationship with God.

We all want to have something profound written, such as “A Shining Star for God” or “A Great Man”. I am no different. Unfortunately, there was that honesty thing. I could honestly say that in my life I tried to put the Lord first, attending worship services faithfully and serving in many different church offices; but too often I came up short. Work, leisure and fatigue occasionally took precedence over the things of God. I haven’t really been a shining star or great man.

I often have been more active and giving than the average Christian, but sometimes I have fallen far short of average as well. Occasionally, I have been backslidden and unproductive. Other times I have soared.

In all honesty, my Christian service has been average and except for short spurts of above average performance, there is nothing that makes me stand apart from the crowd. This is a bit unsettling for someone who is earnestly searching for a profound thought to leave as an inspiration for others about his legacy.

Then it occurred to me that there was something that stood out in my life. Whether I had been faithful or backslidden, whether in a place of blessing or under testing, there had not been one day, not one moment in my life when I had not revered God. He and he alone has been my God. I see Him alone as holy and almighty. I have never had a problem subordinating myself in reverence to him. Even hearing his very name causes me to bow in my heart in reverence.

When I hear people refer to him as “the man upstairs” or “the big guy” or when hear some of the irreverent lyrics in today’s “Christian” music, it makes my heart sink. It seems so disrespectful and irreverent. Not once in my Christian life have I insulted him with such dribble. It seems only fitting to me then that the epitaph on my headstone could read: “Here rests a man who revered God”. In no way do I mean that in a boastful way; far from it. It would not be a record of embellished personal achievement, but rather a testament to God’s greatness.

I believe reverence is the key to successful Christian living. Bible knowledge and Christian service experience cannot hold a candle to the reverential heart. So many claim to be Christian, but in the final analysis their “faith” appears to be nothing more than easy believism. They use the right phraseology and know the code words of the faith, but somehow their deportment and attitude are in contrast to what they say. Their profession of Christ does not equate to performance for Him.

People who profess to know Christ should possess a reverence for him. A degree in Theology, twenty years on the mission field or a hit song does not equate to reverence. It may and often does, but not always. What will your headstone say? What impact will your legacy have?