Last week I sat in a packed room, surrounded by dozens of people, saying goodbye to a man whose teaching of the Bible quietly changed the course of my life.
His name was John Mason. He was 83 years old. Thirty-three years ago, he and his wife, Margaret, taught the Young Married Class my husband and I sat in as newlyweds, wide-eyed and unsure of what marriage or faith or grown-up life were actually supposed to look like. Years later, John was the one who stood with our family for the child dedications of both of our kids, Linzey and Will, marking some of the most sacred moments of our lives.
I didn’t expect a memorial service to leave me thinking so hard about my own life. But that’s exactly what happened.
A Man Who Read Like His Life Depended On It
John and Margaret spent their lives serving others. Not in a loud, look-at-me kind of way. In the quiet, faithful, show-up-every-week kind of way that rarely makes headlines but always makes a difference.
John was a reader. Not a casual one. He worked through stack after stack of nonfiction books about faith, and he didn’t just read them, he wrestled with them. Nearly every page was highlighted. The margins were full of his own notes, his own questions, his own quiet “yes, this is true” moments with God.
That kind of devotion doesn’t happen by accident. It happens because someone decides, over and over, for decades, that knowing God matters more than almost anything else.
Dozens Stood Up
The room was full that day. Dozens of people came to honor him.
At one point, the pastor asked everyone whose life John had personally impacted to stand up. I stood. My husband stood. So did most of the room.
We laughed. We cried. We remembered.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, a question settled into my chest that I still haven’t been able to shake: If this were my celebration of life, who would stand up? And why?
Legacy Isn’t Left Behind. It’s Built, Day by Day.
Here’s what struck me most: John’s legacy wasn’t built at 83. It was built over decades of highlighted books, faithful Sundays, and a marriage devoted to serving others alongside Margaret. It was built in a classroom full of young married couples who had no idea, at the time, how much those lessons would still matter thirty-three years later.
Legacy isn’t about how many people know your name. It’s about how many lives are quietly different because you loved well.
“Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom.” — Psalm 90:12 (NLT)
John understood that verse in his bones. He didn’t waste his days. He spent them, on purpose, on the people and the God he loved.
What About the Legacy You’re Building?
You don’t have to wait until you’re 83 to start living a life worth standing up for. You’re building your legacy right now, in the ordinary Tuesday you’re having today.
It’s in how you show up for your kids. How you love your husband. How you show a friend grace instead of judgment. How honestly you’re seeking God when no one else is watching.
None of it feels significant in the moment. But neither did a highlighted page in John’s Bible study book, until it added up to a life dozens of people stood up to honor.
A Few Questions Worth Sitting With
1. If people were asked to stand today and share how you’ve impacted their lives, who would stand, and what would they say?
2. What are you doing right now, today, that your faith, your family, and your future will be grateful for?
3. What’s one “page” of your own life you’d want someone to highlight someday, a moment, a value, a truth you lived out loudly enough that it left a mark?
Come Sit With Us
If John’s story stirred something in you today, if you’re wondering what your own legacy is being quietly built on, I’d love for you to come sit with us in The Purple Room.
It’s a place for women doing the unglamorous, faithful work of becoming who God made them to be, one honest day at a time. No pressure. Just come as you are.
Click Here to find a free Purple Room session that’s right for you.
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