It Is Not Yet Finished: Answering Life’s Final Why

Mark Twain observed, “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why”.

I want to add another.

The question, “Why was I born?” is important. It powers much of life’s meaning. The Christmas classic It’s a Wonderful Life drills it into the heart of the holiday season when many feel depressed. Younger people hear it often. An incoming college freshman winces when the registrar demands, “What’s your major?” Diploma in hand, life requires an answer. After all, this is the rest of your life.

As life’s shadows grow longer, another question crouches in the corner of our souls, waiting for you to call on it.

I am reading George Raveling’s new book. His story is fascinating. A poor black boy raised by a grandmother after the death of his father and the mental illness of his mother, Raveling details how other people and great ideas shaped his life. But now, Raveling is approaching 88 years old.

Now, he asks another question. What am I still here for?

I am knocking on 70 and the question grows closer in my field of view.

I have done funerals for people younger than I have. Cancer claimed my best friend before the smoke on the candles of his 65th birthday cake dissipated. I said goodbye to another who was younger than that and performed funerals for those who barely tasted middle age.

And yet, I am left. What am I still here for?

It is not survivor’s remorse, like those who made it out of the towers on 9/11 when others died. Instead, it is a spoon that stirs thought.

No one can answer it completely, for it is too personal. It seems better suited for Philosophy 101. Yet age doesn’t care what Stoics, Epicureans, and monks observe.

When it is your life, it gets personal.

I have sat with people who were hanging on to life, racked with pain. And they asked that question. “Why am I still here?”

My answer is, “Because God still has something for you to do.”

The Lord leaves us here because of unfinished business. Then, when we finish our business, life is finished. Jesus hung on the cross and breathed his last words, “It is finished.” Paul wrote to Timothy, awaiting his death, saying, “I have finished the race.”

Why am I still here? Because I have unfinished business.

But I don’t know what that business is. All God gives us is the season, the opportunities that cross our paths. The wise man uses them, but the fool kicks back in his chair, awaiting death.

If I am still here, I need to open my eyes.

• I meet those younger. What can I teach them?
• I meet those older. What can I learn from them?
• I meet those who are hurting or struggling with life issues. What can I do to soothe them?
• I meet those who are dying. What can I do to ease their journey?
• I meet the lonely. What can I do to lift them?

My experiences equipped me for the challenge of this last fifth of life. I had a teacher who recently passed away who taught me to write. I had parents who loved me and instilled values that last to this day. I had fellow preachers who encouraged me when I was down and brought me down when I became too heady.

What am I still here for?

• To honor those who have poured their life into me by living to higher standards.
• To help those who need it because someone helped me.
• To help those younger on their road because I have bumped along life’s uneven cobblestones.
• To forgive those who hurt me because God forgave me.
• To show Christ in all my words and deeds because he bought me with the greatest price.

And one day…I won’t ask the question. It is finished.