I’ll Live On
by Ed Harrell
"Rear Views," Christianity Magazine, June 1993 (Volume 10, #5), p. 32
Most of us have sung the old song affirming the central Christian hope that we shall live on into eternity. This grand aspiration springs from our faith in Jesus Christ's resurrection. The belief that “I’ll live on” empowers me to overcome life’s adversities.
“Now if Christ is preached that He has been raised from the dead, how do some among you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? But if there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ is not risen. And if Christ is not risen, then our preaching is vain and your faith is also vain.… For if the dead do not rise, then Christ is not risen. And if Christ is not risen, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins! Then also those who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most pitiable” (I Corinthians 15:12–19, NKJV).
Let me suggest another way in which all of us live on. Recently, I have pondered the power of memory and recollection in my life. I suspect that you and others have had similar thoughts.
As I have grown older, my mind has become more reflective and introspective; in some ways, for all of my forgetfulness, I am much more aware of my past. I have flashbacks that bring to mind events long forgotten. I actually feel myself blushing when I recall those embarrassing moments when I did something incredibly dumb; at other times, I savor one of those rare occasions when I stumbled into saying the right thing.
But my most persistent memories involve my mother and dad. I have been quite surprised by how frequently my mind reflects about my parents. In my car, in my office, or even during a conversation, I will think of my Dad and something we did together.
I had a few quarrels with my father when he was alive, but I am happy to tell you that my memories now are universally wholesome and helpful. I treasure all of the things my Dad did for me that went unnoticed then. He directed me and formed me. And he helped. Most of us probably feel some regrets that we did not notice more and say more.
But I feel less and less guilty about these oversights because my Dad lives on. Long after his death, he still guides and helps me. His presence is real and powerful. I needed his help when he was here, though I never knew how much. Since his death, and as I have grown more reflective, he has continued to help and mold me.
Such thinking gives me great confidence that I shall live on. I am pretty sure that thirty or forty years from now, my children's minds will be flashing back with regularity, remembering our good times and the best of my efforts to help them. I know how persistent and powerful those thoughts will be. It makes my leaving the world seem less final. Their memories of Daddy will strengthen their hopes that we shall meet again — that those “who have fallen asleep in Christ” are not perished.
