Life... With Purpose

"Yes, and I will rejoice, for I know that through your prayers and the help of the Spirit of Jesus Christ this will turn out for my deliverance, as it is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death.  For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.  If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me.  Yet which I choose I cannot tell.  I am hard pressed between the two.  My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better.  But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account."

~Philippians 1:18c-24

On Friday, September 17, 2010, I read these words during my morning devotions.  This passage is so familiar to me, as I am sure it is familiar to so many of you, but it never struck me before as it did that morning.  I spent much of my day chewing on it, pondering its implications for my life.  More specifically, I thought about how God is keeping me here for a specific purpose.  The same is true for all of us.  The lives we live have a great purpose - a purpose determined by God.  That purpose involves affecting others.  Paul understood this, stating in verse 24 that he remained alive because the Philippians had something still to learn from him.  God was not yet done with him.

As I spent the day meditating on these words, I had no idea that God would use them to comfort me and grow me in the days that would follow.

On Saturday, September 18, 2010, my family was forever changed.  That was the day that Mike died.  We were immediately faced with the questions that so many in similar circumstances have faced.  Questions of "Why?  Why would God take Mike from us?  What good could possibly come of this?"  This event has helped me understand the anger that others express at God when something bad happens - I felt it.  It helped me understand the pain of loosing a piece of your heart - I can feel the hole.

I'm not ready to "get over it" yet.  And I may never be.

But, I am beginning to understand, I think (maybe).

Everything we do affects those around us.  We do not live in isolation, no matter how hard we try.  We live in community - that's how we were designed.  The purpose we have been given, then, is to play a role in the lives of those around us.  As a Christian, I believe this to mean that I am called to share the love of Christ with the people around me.  We may not know exactly who we are supposed to affect, but that doesn't necessarily matter.  What matters is that we live well, for the lives we have are not our own.

Mike lived well.  And we are now getting a glimpse at the impact he had on those around him.

For those who continue, I pray that God will guide us to live in a way that glorifies Him and shows His love to the nations.  And I praise God that when my time is finished - when my purpose is complete - I can spend the rest of eternity with Him.

A Series of Goodbyes, Part 3 - The Close Cousin

On Saturday, September 18, Tiffany and I got in the car and began our drive down to Columbia, MO.  We had been planning this trip for several months, having set up several meetings to share with people down there about the ministry we are preparing for.  We were excited, looking forward to what promised to be a busy and rewarding weekend.  Our emotions were rocked, however, when the phone rang about an hour and a half into our drive.  My mom was calling, so I answered.

"Hello"

"Luke!  It's Ma."

"Hey, Ma."

"Hey, I've got some bad news coming down from Chicago."

pause

"K..."

"Your cousin Michael was hit by a train and killed last night.  We don't know any details, but he was not in a car."

It is only by the grace of God that I managed to keep the car on the road.  My mind was racing.  What do you do with this information?  Did this really happen?  People getting hit by trains only happens in movies, right?  This can't be real.

But, it is real.  So very, very real.

Michael James Rauen was born in mid-July, 1987.  Being about a year and a half younger than my younger brother Andrew, Mike was the first cousin born on my mom's side of the family.  In all, there are now 16 of us... he was number 5.  The thing about our family, though, is that all of the cousins are like siblings.  We may not talk all the time, but we know that we are always there for each other.  Whenever we get together, it's as though we never really left.  So, when people ask if I was close to Mike, all I want to say is, "He's family."  For us, that's all that matters.

Mike walked with us for 23 years.  His life wasn't always easy, but life never is.  He didn't always make the best choices, but nobody ever does.  Through it all, he was a good kid.

He was passionate, smart, and kind.

His faith was real, and his love was deep.

We hear stories of people dying and only a handful of people making it to the funeral.  We hear stories of people who lived in obscurity and died without anybody knowing.  Mike is not one of them.  The line at the visitation went out the door and down the street for 6 hours, and only stopped when the funeral director stopped allowing people to get in line.  The sanctuary was packed during the service.  The funeral procession to the cemetery was at least 40 cars long... we don't know the exact number, as it was too long to see all of and count.

Mike's impact on those who got to know him is undeniable.  But knowing all this does not make the loss any less painful.

All I want to do is be able to see him one more time.

To laugh with him again.

To give him a hug and tell him I love him.

Goodbye, Mike.  I'm sorry I never got to tell you how excited (and scared) I was for you when you joined the Marines.  I'm sorry I never got to tell you how proud of you I am.  There are so many conversations I've wanted to have with you, but now I won't get that chance.  There were times when I saw or heard something about you and shook my head, or laughed, or said, "That's Mike."  There were times when I came across a joke, or a poem, or something Irish, and said, "Mike would love this."  I'm glad I got to be a part of your ceremony, though I wish you could have been there with us.  It was beautiful.  You were a good man, Mike, and I miss you so much.

September 2010 Prayer Letter!

Imagine your world without anybody between the ages of 30 and 50.  What do you think it would be like?  Would you even be around?  This is a reality for many people in AIDS-stricken southern Africa.  Read more about it, and how you can help make a difference, in this month's prayer letter.

As always, just click on the image above to be taken to a full-sized version of the letter.