My brother, a hired priest, and a woman I had never met, stood in a small room. In the middle of the room was an inexpensive casket. In the casket, the body of a man I had not seen for ten years; my father. The woman, my step-mother, I suppose, had married my father a few years earlier. The small chapel was empty save the four of us, the casket, and an electronic version of Amazing Grace. I grieved that day, not for losing my father, but for losing possibilities. I had lost my father years before, but I had always held on to the possibility that he might realize the wreckage he had made of his life and turn it around. He never did. His last ten years were spent in prison. He died alone and was buried with four people present. One of them was paid to be there.
He had spent his entire life trying to get what he wanted, when he wanted it. He ended his life alone.
Years later, and a world away, I sat in a packed chapel, as hundreds of people gathered to mourn the loss of my father-in-law. People from multiple professions, and stations in life, as well as people from other nations came to pay their respects. Family, friends, colleagues, students, church members, all gathered in this church. Memorial scholarships and events were dedicated to the memory of this man. His research, writing and generosity still influence people today.
He had given his life away to the service of others, the call of science and medicine, and the leadership of his family. People not only gathered around him but still gather around his legacy.
Serving the desires of our selfishness has a destructive impact on our lives. The things we believe will satisfy us are driven further away by our pursuit of them. What you plant you will harvest.