The Brief Nature of Life
In 1838, the poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote: “Tell me not, in mournful numbers, life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, and things are not what they seem.” No matter how consistently Scripture instructs directly and indirectly that life is unfair and fragile, and ought to be treasured for the unearned gift it is (Matthew 6:34), it seems to me we all are lulled to sleep by our own curated avoidances. Tomorrow truly is not promised (Proverbs 27:1), but we often only learn the hard way, I think.
44 years is not that a lot in the grand scheme of an expected modern lifetime. I am 44 years old. October 26, 2023, marks the last breath a pastoral colleague of mine took, as he passed away in his sleep from natural causes at the age of 44. His name was Bryan Dunagan.
He leaves behind his wife and three young children and the large, historic church he served since 2014 as senior pastor. Highland Park Presbyterian Church in Dallas, Texas maintained a storied affiliation with the Presbyterian Church (PCUSA), but as a congregation committed to traditional biblical convictions concerning human sexuality, they eventually jumped ship for the ECO: A Covenant Order of Evangelical Presbyterians, a new denomination more closely aligned with their values.
His death is a supreme shock to all who knew him. He was healthy and active, and just an overall good dude who loved his family and church in the best ways.
We became acquainted years ago when Renata and I resided in Atlanta, Georgia. We attended Peachtree Presbyterian, a booming church of over 7,000, where he worked as a teaching pastor overseeing their young adult ministry. He and I stayed in touch through subsequent moves, and he even contributed an essay to a book I am editing about the idol of pastoral workaholism.
The sudden nature of his death reminds me of a few lines from Is God Good?, authored by the popular author and pastor Max Lucado: “Most, if not all of us, have a contractual agreement with God. The fact that he hasn’t signed it doesn’t keep us from believing it.” In Come Thirsty: No Heart Too Dry for His Touch, Lucado also reminds us, “You live one final breath from your own funeral.”
He isn’t lying. The Bible is clear that only God knows the future and controls it. Largely, we are left in the dark and while we don’t like that, it is for the best. Even so, life is short. Too short.
Moreover, the variables by which we will leave this place to be absent from the body and therefore present with the Lord (2 Corinthians 5:8) are fully above our pay-grade, whether we care to be honest about it or not. The dark moment of Bryan’s untimely passing coexists with God’s preeminent, permanent goodness. It does not dismantle it.
But we can both grieve a life that has come to an end and celebrate a life that was lived well. As the old saying goes: “Only one life, ‘til soon be past; only what’s done for Christ will last.” Let’s all live passionately for God while we have the opportunity.