There's an old story about two friends who loved baseball so much that they weren't sure they wanted to spend eternity in heaven unless they could keep playing. They made a pact — whoever died first would find a way to send word back, letting the other know whether baseball existed in heaven.

Sure enough, John died first, and Jim grieved deeply for weeks. Then one night Jim was startled awake by a voice calling his name. "Jim. Jim. Wake up. This is John."

"John — where are you?"

"I'm in heaven, and I've got good news and bad news. The good news is, there's baseball in heaven. It's wonderful — we play every day, marvelous teams, tough competition."

"That's great," Jim said. "What's the bad news?"

"You're scheduled to pitch next Tuesday."

I love that story. There's something beautiful about finding life so wonderful, so compelling, that we don't want it to end — that we genuinely hope whatever comes next includes the things that bring us joy here.

For me, that's surfing. Being out on the water in the middle of God's creation gives me a sense of renewal I don't find many other places. I hope there's good surfing in heaven too.

But I've also learned, over the years, that surfing alone isn't enough to give my life meaning. Even secular thinkers have recognized this. The philosopher Will Durant argued that for life to take on real meaning, it has to be oriented around a purpose larger than itself.

Jesus said something similar, though far more pointed: "Those who want to save their life will lose it, but those who lose their life for my sake will find it." (Matthew 16:25) That's a hard paradox to fully wrap my mind around. But I've found it true more often than not — there is something healing about giving ourselves away. The things we hold onto too tightly tend to shrink. The things we give away tend to multiply.

Enjoying life is a gift. Surfing and baseball are certainly gifts! But the deepest meaning seems to come not from what we chase for ourselves, but from what we offer to others. May we keep looking for those opportunities — small and large.

Prayer: Dear God, give us eyes to see the world as you see it. Give us hearts that break at the things that break your heart. And then, O God, help us not to duck — but to act. Amen.

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