I’ve heard that phrase off and on throughout my life.

I’ve heard it refer to a missionary, who braved meeting cannibalistic peoples on their home soil to share the gospel with them.

I’ve heard it refer to movie actors/actresses who played their part well.  It was said they touched many people through the silver screen.

I’ve heard it refer to successful businessmen, who, once they had made their millions, turned to philanthropy, and shared their wealth in very unselfish ways.

I’ve heard it used to describe the life of one who gave his life for another man back in the days of the wild west.  “He lived well, and died well,” was the general consensus of such a one.

I’ve heard it used, in retrospect, when groups were gathered here and there after the funeral of one taken suddenly, and mention was made of the unexpected crowds that showed up to pay their last respects.  “We didn’t know he touched so many people’s lives,” they said.

I’ve tried to decide, through the years, what my definition of that phrase might be. 

I’ve thought of the opposite of its meaning, in an effort to understand it.  I’ve thought of men whose personality is so abrasive that they leave a trail of broken pieces from the people they have come in contact with along life’s way.

They say it takes three generations, more or less, for a good name to be completely forgotten in a community. 

And I think I’ve lived long enough now, to see the proof of that.  I’ve seen massive farmsteads rise and flourish.  As long as the one who started the whole game is alive, we all know the farm and property by his name, and the property itself seems to take on a sort of half-life of its own.  But let the one who started it die, and I don’t see the farmstead flourish or have nearly as much life as it used to.  Give it 30 or 40 years, and as my boys and I drive by it on our way to some job, they ask, “Whose place is that?”  And I tell them.  The name still means something to me, because I knew the owner.  But they didn’t, and so it means nothing to them.

So, it doesn’t seem that a life well lived is substantiated by acreage or holdings.

I’ve asked myself if a life well lived has to do with how thoughtful a person is of others, or how many good deeds they do along the way.  I think all that possibly plays a part.

I recently became acquainted with an individual that I think unlocked most of the mystery for me. 

It became clear to me that a life well lived is one that points towards Christ.  And while such a life may do a nice amount of good deeds such as Christ may have done, they aren’t the defining factor. 

The mystery was further unveiled to me in this that no life is placed here on earth without that purpose in mind, that is, to represent its Creator. 

No life, however conceived, is a mistake.

And every life, however short or long, has the potential to point back from whence it came. 

Today, I am a better person because of a young lad named Cyrus.

He lived here for four weeks with us.  He didn’t have time to do some mighty deeds of valor or unselfishness.  In fact, he wasn’t capable of such.

But he had just enough time to point me, and I believe, a few others, to a life that transcends everything here, and in so doing, urge me to make that Place.

You might say his life made the way look attractive, so to speak.