Eulogy


Be careful how you live. – Ephesians 5:15, NLT

I’ve come to believe something that sounds a little strange at first—one of the healthiest things a man can do is attend another man’s funeral. Not occasionally, but regularly. Because at a funeral, you hear things you don’t hear anywhere else.

Sometimes it’s an obituary—facts, dates, accomplishments. Where he worked, what he built, what he achieved. A life summarized in milestones. But every now and then, you hear a eulogy. And that’s different. It’s not about what a man did; it’s about who he was.

The word eulogy itself carries that idea—to speak well of, to bless, to give thanks for a life. And when it’s done right, you can feel it.  Not polished or forced—just true. He was steady. He was kind. He loved his wife. He walked with God. No one reaches for job titles in those moments. No one is impressed with success. They talk about the man.

I remember reading something from David Brooks—he called them two sets of virtues: resume virtues and eulogy virtues. Resume virtues are what we build most of our lives on—skills, abilities and progress. Eulogy virtues are what remain—whether you were faithful, honest, and loved deeply.

And here’s the tension—most men invest heavily in what won’t matter most. There’s nothing wrong with work, building, achieving, and growing. But if we’re not careful, we spend our lives building what looks good on paper while neglecting the kind of life that speaks for itself.

I’ve heard different mission statements for life over the years. Stephen Covey popularized the idea. One of the most honest I’ve heard came from Steve Farrar: “Don’t screw up.” It makes me chuckle—and wince. There’s something in it that cuts through the noise and brings you back to what matters.

But Scripture speaks even more clearly:

“Be careful how you live. Don’t live like fools, but like those who are wise. Make the most of every opportunity… Don’t act thoughtlessly, but understand what the Lord wants you to do” (Ephesians 5:15–17, NLT).

Be careful—not casual, not drifting, not just reacting, but intentional. Because a man doesn’t accidentally become the kind of man people speak well of. That life is formed quietly over time.

A while back, I did something that has stayed with me. I wrote my own eulogy—not for anyone else, just for me. It states the kind of husband, dad, grandad, friend, colleague, and man I want to be. And I read it every day—not as pressure, but as direction. This is who I want to become.

This kind of reflection has a way of pulling things back into place—clearing out what doesn’t belong and reminding you that today counts more than you think. 

Because one day, someone will stand and speak about your life. And they won’t talk about everything you did. They’ll talk about who you were.

So decide now—what you want them to say.

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This week’s Nudging comes from a chapter in my upcoming book, Be Ready: A Man God Can Use, releasing April 20th at Amazon.

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