What Are You Leaving Behind?

My father was a full-time minister, and in his denomination and district covering half a state, the pastors were assigned to a different church every few years. When it was your turn to move, the process was kind of like musical chairs, only no one was left without a “seat.” On a single, exhausting, and inevitably hot and humid June day every twelve months, this is how the great relocation went down.

In the morning, all the families finished packing, and the movers loaded the vans. In the afternoon, all the families arrived at their new church-owned parsonages and watched as the movers unloaded furniture and boxes so they could start unpacking.

Before one of our migrations, my mother—as usual—left the house we’d lived in for five years sparkling. And I mean sparkling. Windows, the basement, the attic, appliances, and every nook and cranny were all good. No dirt, no grime, no dust, no left-behind trash. I know this because I was a teenager required to help with the magic of shiny and clean, minus a Harry Potter wand.

I also heard this is how we make the house ready for the next family.

Now imagine my mother when we arrived at our new parsonage and found no sparkle, but dirt, grime, dust, and left-behind trash. Not a ton of it, but still, a kind of eerie shadow formed behind the everything is just wonderful and we’re so glad to be here mask Mom donned before the welcoming committee. Knowing the conviction that drove her to leave behind only sparkle a mere two hours’ drive away, I could spot the little bit of ire in her eyes as I hastily grabbed the nearest broom.

Of course, my mother forgave and forgot, assuming the previous tenants had some extenuating circumstances that morning to cause such an oversight. Still, the idea that we all need to consider how what we do affects those who come behind us stuck with me—especially once I got beyond the rebellious years when being required to clean my own bedroom seemed like an imposition of great proportion.

What are you leaving behind?

Are you departing from a position under challenging circumstances? If we can help it, we shouldn’t leave behind a mess for a successor, making their own transition harder than it needs to be. “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters” (Colossians 3:23 NIV).

Are you putting aside a difficult personal relationship or situation? With God’s help, shouldn’t we do our best to mitigate hurt, and to carefully consider what we say (without keeping secrets to the detriment of others)? Shouldn’t we do what we can to not leave behind an abyss of bitterness and regret? “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone” (Romans 12:18 NIV).

What about the reputation we leave behind wherever we go? As of this writing, many reports of well-known people ousted from their professional workplaces because of admitted sexual misconduct abound. They’ve left behind a kind of dirt that cannot be easily swept away. “Even a child makes himself known by his acts, by whether his conduct is pure and upright” (Proverbs 20:11 ESV).

What about our witness as Christians? It’s not our place to judge, but I confess I’m sometimes dismayed when I see questionable behavior from someone who claims to be a follower of Christ. Yet how many times have I failed to see my own shortcomings? “Let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16 ESV).

And finally, what about love in action? God’s Word is clear, and yet we so often fail to leave even the smallest of kindnesses in the places we’ve been—a note, a little better tip, a caring word, an encouragement, a sparkle of love. “This is the message that you have heard from the beginning, that we should love one another” (1 John 3:11 ESV).

As we go before others, may we take time to consider what we’re leaving behind. Dirt, sparkle, or nothing at all, it’s our choice every day.

Jean Kavich Bloom is a champion coffee drinker and a freelance editor and writer for Christian publishers and ministries. She doesn’t garden, bake, or knit, but insists playing Scrabble is exactly the same thing. Jean and her husband, Cal, live in central Indiana. They have three children (plus two who married in) and five grandchildren. She blogs at bloominwordstoo.blogspot.com.

Photograph © Aaron Birch, used with permission