Finding The Secret

More Than Conquerors
November 2004

“A person can have no better epitaph than that which is inscribed on the hearts of his friends.” –Unknown

It seems like I’ve had to say goodbye to friends several times in the past couple of months. A good friend moved to Canada in October. An old friend I hadn’t seen for years was killed in a car accident in September. Even a few friends still living nearby have moved to another stage in life where we will see each other less often than before.

As I look back on those friendships I have to ask myself “how do the friendships of yesterday affect today? What is the legacy they left behind?”

The best friendships have been the ones that have driven me closer to Christ. And those friends continue to serve as examples even today. The legacy they left us—not in writing, but on our hearts—continues to inspire us onward.

This is how we can tell if our friendships truly had any lasting value: did we leave behind us a legacy of selfishness, or a legacy of sacrificial love?

A legacy of love
Is what I wish to
Leave, behind me dear Father
When I go to live with You.

I want to be remembered
For the love I’ve given,
And Father may it point
Others toward Heaven.

You’ve taught me, Savior,
O’er long days
Of love’s true meaning
According to Your ways.

I’ve learned to love
Those which it seemed
I could not, and by this
Many a lesson, gleaned.

Lord, I’ve prayed
So very often, You know,
For those wayward ones
Whom I love so.

It is hard, sweet Jesus,
To see the ones you love,
Turn their face away
From the Heavenly Father Above.

Oh what pain!
I’ve shed so many tears
O’er those wayward ones
Through the years.

But what great joy!
What Heavenly bliss!
When to You, Savior,
They turn from ways amiss.

Praying for so many
O’er the length of my life,
I’ve learned to love those
Who have caused me great strife.

Dear Father, I think
I can truthfully say
That I’ve loved each soul
You’ve put across my way.

Though to each one
The love I bore was different,
It all was from You, and was
Only accomplished by commitment.

And so I pray,
That when I go Above,
I will be remembered
By a legacy of love.

An era of our lives has passed
In which we shared both tears and laughs.
We now reflect on days gone by,
Each bearing marks which we applied.

Transactions large and small we shared—
At times, light hearted, free of care,
And other times held depth and weight.
In every instance, marks were made.

But whether etched by spoken word,
Or by our silent thoughts unheard,
Or by our deeds wrought long ago,
Long will our carved impressions show.

’Tis why I’m thankful for the art
Cut lovingly into my heart
By careful craftsmanship of friends—
God-given, lasting to the end.

—Samuel Popiel

I Smiled

’twas no sacrifice
no sacrifice at all

Vision
focused
on the outcome
not upon the fall
nor the striving
nor the scrapes
and cuts
that left its mark on flesh and heart
for only
was the vision
of the goal

as I reached out
for you

Living Legacy

We could erect a monument
To shout of all the deeds you’ve done,
And yet the loudest trumpet blast
Could not pronounce what all you’ve meant
As fully as a heart-based one
Whose words of love are unsurpassed—

No book can tell the story spoken
By words of friendship on our souls;
No painting captures all the traits;
Our lives today are greater tokens
Of all the ways we’ve reached our goals
Than any feature we relate—

The legacy you left behind
Will shout of all the deeds you’ve done,
Far more than any we contrive;
In love we will as brothers bind,
In faith we’ll glow like burning suns—
This is your legacy alive.

—Benjamin Graber

My Legacy

My life’s a fleeting moment in the endless march of time,
And days on earth so soon will all be past.
I want to be remembered for the love that I have shown,
And want my legacy of love to last.

I long to share my Jesus with the people that I meet,
And pray that I’ll bring honor to His Name.
I’d rather be a faithful servant of my Lord and King,
Than be endowed with beauty, wealth or fame.

I’m building for eternity, and pray my deeds won’t be
Wood, hay or stubble that will quickly burn.
But if on sure foundation I use gold and precious stones,
A lasting place in Heaven they will earn.

I hope that when at last I stand before the throne of God,
There will be many others there who’ll say,
“I’m here because you shared the love of Christ with me on earth,
And clearly pointed out to me The Way.”

Lord, help me to reflect Your love, and like a magnet, draw
Lost, hurting souls to want to know You too.
And when my life is over, may I hear You say, “Well done.
You did your best with what I gave to you.”

Someday with Jesus

Someday with Jesus to see his open arms
Someday with Jesus to feel his warm embrace
Someday with Jesus to see him face-to-face
Someday with Jesus-I must faithfully run the race

Someday with Jesus ’tis so very sweet!
Someday with Jesus to worship at his feet
I yearn so much for Heaven, for glory Kingdom bound
To see my blessed Savior and hear the trumpet sound

Some day with Jesus, no more pain or turmoil
But walking streets of gold
Living in glory with Christ my Lord
Living the greatest story ever told!

Leaving earth-filled trouble, sorrow too
For my mansion in Heaven to reign
Leaving my torn and broken body
For glorious life to gain!

As much as I yearn for glory
I know it’s not my time
Because Jesus shows me every day
There are souls I need to find!

To share God’s plan of salvation
The one that’s in His Word
And bring lost sheep to Jesus
To be forever with the Lord

So for now my work’s not finished
There’s many hungry souls
That need to hear Christ’s message
Lord help me to be bold!

—Greta Cole
© Greta Cole. Used with permission.

Epilogue

An epoch ended yesterday,
As history is being penned;
I’m glad your name was on that page,
Recorded on my heart as “friend”.

Your name was there so many times
It’s only right that you should know
Your autograph has changed my life,
The word of love I needed so—

This story may at times seem bland,
Or play out like a fairy tale,
But God is always in control,
And by the finish love prevails,

And though another page has turned
And it is time to say goodbye,
I know there is a happy ending,
A place where all our tears are dried—

There’s one more thing that must be said
Before this chapter truly ends:
That after all the tears and joy,
I am so glad you were my friend!

—Benjamin Graber

Broken Fences

We spend much of our lives erecting walls,
Setting boundaries, and building up defenses,
Keeping others at bay to prevent emotional falls;
Leading up to the inevitable; broken fences.

We say things that cut deep like a surgeon’s knife,
Leaving others wounded and bleeding.
We do things without thought to another’s life,
While selfishly pursuing our own leading.

Too often we reflect on the injustices we feel,
An imperfect world and its people display;
While the fences lying broken are all too real,
Waiting to be repaired with the words we need to say.

The reality is that life is too precious to waste,
Keeping track of what who’s done to who;
Say ‘I’m sorry, please forgive me’, before it’s too late.
In the end, you’ll be glad when you do.

Live each day as though it may be your last.
But, don’t waste it without thought of the consequences.
Do whatever it takes before the die is cast,
So that you don’t leave as your legacy, broken fences.

Unfortunately, we can leave behind a bad legacy just as we can leave behind a good one. And few things hurt as much as knowing that you have…

Eve

“While I sit at the door
Sick to gaze within
Mine eye weepeth sore
For sorrow and sin:
As a tree my sin stands
To darken all lands;
Death is the fruit it bore.

“How have Eden bowers grown
Without Adam to bend them!
How have Eden flowers blown
Squandering their sweet breath
Without me to tend them!
The Tree of Life was ours,
Tree twelvefold-fruited,
Most lofty tree that flowers,
Most deeply rooted:
I chose the tree of death.

“Hadst thou but said me nay,
Adam, my brother,
I might have pined away;
I, but none other:
God might have let thee stay
Safe in our garden,
By putting me away
Beyond all pardon.

“I, Eve, sad mother
Of all who must live,
I, not another,
Plucked bitterest fruit to give
My friend, husband, lover;—
O wanton eyes, run over;
Who but I should grieve?—
Cain hath slain his brother:
Of all who must die mother,
Miserable Eve!”

Thus she sat weeping,
Thus Eve our mother,
Where one lay sleeping
Slain by his brother.
Greatest and least
Each piteous beast
To hear her voice
Forgot his joys
And set aside his feast.

The mouse paused in his walk
And dropped his wheaten stalk;
Grave cattle wagged their heads
In rumination;
The eagle gave a cry
From his cloud station;
Larks on thyme beds
Forbore to mount or sing;
Bees drooped upon the wing;
The raven perched on high
Forgot his ration;
The conies in their rock,
A feeble nation,
Quaked sympathetical;
The mocking-bird left off to mock;
Huge camels knelt as if
In depreciation;
The kind hart’s tears were falling;
Chattered the wistful stork;
Dove-voices with a dying fall
Cooed desolation
Answering grief by grief.

Only the serpent in the dust
Wriggling and crawling,
Grinned an evil grin and thrust
His tongue out with its fork.

—Christina Rossetti

It’s Thanksgiving eve
And I went to count my blessings,
But I got stuck on you
Between friends and stuffings.
You’re at the top of my list,
And I don’t just count you twice—
I count you each time
Your name makes my thoughts nice.
You’ve blessed me in
So many ways, you see,
That to count a dozen times,
Wouldn’t be too many.
If I counted every laugh,
Ever conversation, every smile,
Ever letter, ever joke,
And every thought of you the while
It would just begin to number
The times you’ve blessed me, dear,
So that’s why I thank God for you
Every day of the year.

Insurance

I wish I could invest my savings
In some insurance I can’t buy:
The guarantee that life is good
In all adventures that you try;

But I can’t make a blueprint
To cast your troubles in the sea,
Nor will I seek magicians
To change what trials come to be;

I know at times you’ll trip and fall,
At times your life may come to harm;
But everything works for your good—
Our Father holds you in His arms.

—Benjamin Graber

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ?
Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or
nakedness or danger or sword?… No, in all these things
we are more than conquerors through Him who loved us.”
—Romans 8:35, 37

If you have any comments or questions, or if you have a poem to share, please send an e-mail to bgraber@neo.rr.com

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