Lessons from reading biography

Earlier this week I finished David McCullough's biography John Adams. If you want good history, excellent writing, and an amazingly intriguing story-line, you need to read this book. I enjoyed (almost) every minute of it... and that was a lot of minutes because the book is fairly large.

But upon finishing the last few pages on our front porch swing, I came in to Jessica and Corban in the living room. Jessica, knowing I had just finished, asked how it was. I said, "Well, everybody died in the end."

I love reading biographies! John G. Paton, Jonathan Edwards, Abraham Lincoln, Adoniram Judson, John Wesley, Charles Spurgeon, and I think every biography of John Owen still in print.

But here's the thing: they all have the exact same ending. Everybody dies in the end! And in everyone of the biographies mentioned (Abraham Lincoln aside), it's always a nasty, unfortunate, humiliating, stretching-out-over-several-days affair.

John Adams led the cry of independence from an oppressive Britain. He hailed George Washington as the only reasonable commander of the Continental Armies. He single-handedly won over the delegates to adopt the Declaration of Independence (which he also had a massive hand in). He wrote the most enduring and tone-setting state constitution. He negotiated the first alliances on behalf of the new United States of America. He negotiated the end of the Revolutionary War. He served as the first ever Vice-President. He served as the second President, keeping us out of another war (with revolting France) which might have meant the swift death of our brand new country. He established the Navy. He's probably the main reason our government has checks and balances. And his eldest son served as the sixth president of the United States, like his father.

And for all of that, when he got old, his skin was droppy. He lost all his teeth. He was overweight. He walked with a cane. He lost his hair. His limbs lost all control. He couldn't see, write, walk, or ride. And then, he got sick and slowly died in a state of delirium.

On his death bed, he could have been any other human being in the world. And for all his accolades, he's almost entirely forgotten (for some strange reason, his Vice-President and successor Jefferson has received far more attention) in the hearts of Americans. All his glory came to naught.

So, all of that to say this: if you are living for your own glory, to establish your own name, to build your own little kingdom of one... STOP! You are soon to go the way of the world. It will not be pretty. In your death, you will die like everyone else. And what will come of your glory? What will come of your kingdom, and your name? It will be etched on a stone (with words you yourself chose), perhaps gawked at in mystery by future generations, but more than likely, completely ignored and forgotten about.

For God's sake, let's live for the name and fame of the only One who endures. The one who never dies. The one whose glory never meets the grave. His glory is forever. His name is forever. His kingdom is forever. Any kingdom-building or glory-giving done for him, no matter the scale, is permanent. In the words of John Piper, "Don't waste your life" living for yourself!