I only met her once in person.
Yet, she had a life-changing impact on me. Her gracious words, her honesty in her blog and her love for her God, her family and those who crossed her path shone through her words and actions.
A friend first introduced me to the writings of Kara Tippetts when a loved one in my life was diagnosed with cancer. I began reading the words of this thirty-eight-year old mother of four and I was challenged, and convicted to look beyond the now.
As Kara’s life drew to a close, she sought to live every day well. And she was brutally honest in sharing how hard it was to watch her life begin to ebb. To lose independence, to lose energy . . . to watch others do the things for her family that she had once been able to do.
Her humility and transparency in each blog post ministered to thousands.
I only met her once.
On a snowy day as she shared her story and her passion for Jesus. As she poured out herself to encourage those of us in the audience. Her green eyes . . . they shone with the passion of her convictions, and her desire to encourage those who came to hear her story. They shone with the love of Jesus.
It wasn’t about her. It was about Jesus in her. She poured herself out through her story and through answering questions from her listeners. And the answer she gave for my question? It was exactly the wisdom I needed to hear.
This unassuming wife of one and mother of four stood strong on convictions forged from God’s word. No backing down. But she shared them with grace and fervency.
Knowing you’re dying does that. It burns away the trivial and forces a person to focus on the essential.
I’ve been caught up in the trivial too many times in my life. As Kara Tippetts danced into glory this past weekend, I’m reminded that our days are numbered. We—none of us—knows the number of our days. Though some of us know the end is nearing.
What matters is what we do with the days we have. Are we going to walk the status quo? Or, are we going to live out the convictions God has imprinted on our hearts? We have a choice, and not to choose . . . is to choose.
Will we walk out each decision with grace, focused on the eternal picture?
In a world that moves at the speed of a click and focuses on the what I need/want now, it’s hard to step back and see my days with an eternal perspective.
This is a pattern I long—no need—to foster within my own life.
Only God knows the number of days I have left to walk this earth. What I know is I want them to count for Jesus. To make an impact for eternity.
What about you? When has someone’s death inspired life change in you? How do you maintain an eternal perspective?