Death is awkward; awkward to talk about because it’s confusing and often sudden. It’s painful for many but a joy for others. And I’m sure, without much thought, we could come up with many other topics that make much better conversation starters.

Death gives us a glimpse into a life once lived, whether good or bad, and it provides an opportunity to remind us, once again, that life is short. Life is precious. Life is but a small glimmer in God’s story. Life is a privilege and, if you have made the decision to live your life for Christ, so is death. But there is one thing about death that is certain – unless you’re Elijah or Shirley MacLaine – death is inevitable.

Now, I could take this post many directions. I could talk about life insurance or those scary corpse pictures one used to take of their dead family members back in the day. Or I could preach the “Turn or Burn” message and then give a virtual altar call … but I won’t. Instead, I’ll be selfish and talk about a 1950’s Fender Telecaster that I’m hoping to inherit.

Sadly, this is not a joke.

My grandpa, my mother’s father, purchased a Telecaster many, many moons ago. He has, and continues to play it to this day – because he’s very much alive. And though I don’t get to see him as much as I’d like, that’s a fact I am grateful for.

I remember when my sister and I would visit my grandparents in Portland. It seems as though something was always going on at their small Assemblies of God church every time I visited. And, sure enough, there grandpa would be, strumming away on his trusty Fender Telecaster, while grandma would pound away on the keys. They would even try and often succeeding in getting my sister and I to sing some old classic hymn. It was like a bit of heaven to my grandparents; to us kids, not so much.

Even though I didn’t have, and still don’t have, the upfront-type personality, I did enjoy the praise of the parishioners as our songs came to an end. I think my cheeks were squeezed more times in a weekend visiting my grandparents then they were all year long.

But enough about absorbing personal exaltation – let’s get back to the inheritance.

Though I wish it would never happen, it’s inevitable that our parents and grandparents will one day pass from this earth. They will enter a far better place than this one. There will be mansions on hilltops and they will dance on streets of gold. But there is a catch – no earthly treasures. This sucks for the guy who spent his entire life trying to gain the whole world and yet forfeits his chance at an eternity with the Father. No iPods or iPhones. No ShamWows or Snuggies. No jet boats or lifetime supplies of Pez dispensers. No Michael Jackson autographed gloves and, especially, no 1950’s Fender Telecaster guitars.

This makes me smile.

Selfish? Probably. Morbid? Maybe.

But regardless of your opinion of my selfish desire to inherit my grandpa’s sweet Telecaster, most have a longing to inherit something meaningful from their parents or grandparents. Isn’t there something special, though I haven’t experienced it myself, from gaining a piece of history from someone you love? I’m sure there is. I’m sure that would be something you’d treasure forever. And, if I’m so fortunate, I’d cherish my grandpa’s Fender also.

Lately this has made me think of what I would pass down to my children, and someday (hopefully a long, long time from now) my grandchildren.

Hopefully I will leave a legacy that they would be proud of. Hopefully, Lord-willing, I will leave them with a life that searched for the heart of God. But as far as earthly possessions to remember me by, what could I give them? What brings me joy?

Then it hit me. I found it. It was right before my very eyes.

And, better yet, it’s still in its original package.

Yes, it’s not shiny like it used to be but it’s brought me joy. Well, maybe not the joy that is unspeakable, but regardless, it’s brought me happiness. Ok, maybe not happiness, like what I’ll experience when I’m dancing on streets of gold, but it has brought me comfort. Alright, maybe not the comfort I find when I’m in the arms of Christ, but it’s brought me peace nonetheless.

Wait. What was I talking about?

Oh yes, what I’m going to leave my children when I pass away – when I kick the bucket – that’s what I was talking about.

But let’s be honest for a minute. Who really cares what sort of legacy I’ll leave behind as long as I leave them with my computer? That’s right! I’ll leave my computer, my trusty laptop, to my kids and grandkids. That’s what I’ll do! I’ve wasted many, many hours on this thing and I’m sure they’ll find the same comfort, joy, and peace I have found, using this thing as a tool as I try to blend in to a culture I was never created for.

Yeah, that’s a great idea – almost as great as the time I topped out my 1993 Geo Metro at 87 miles per hour on a 45 mile per hour road. I call that genius.

What sort of inheritance are you going to leave behind?

See, I told you death was awkward.