When I leave

When I leave this world,

I’d want to leave
not as a preacher,
for the message is more
important than the messenger.

Not as a teacher,
for as important as it can be,
the title is not what matters.
What matters is not that I taught,
but that someone learned
to follow Christ.

Not as a writer,
for words may live for a while,
but even the finest work
will slowly vanish
over the centuries.

Not as someone
whose name was remembered
for what he did,
for the work will continue
even when I am gone.

I’d rather leave

as a brother—
someone who walked beside others,
who listened,
who stayed a little longer,
who rejoiced when another rejoiced,
and wept when another wept.

A brother
who wanted to see all
loved,
known,
forgiven,
and saved by the Savior.

And if, after I am gone,
someone remembers me,
I would not need them
to remember my sermons,
my lessons,
or my writings.

Perhaps it would be enough
if they remembered
that I loved them
and wanted them
to know Jesus.