I was tightly attached to this world, the here and now with its day-to-day responsibilities, when a cancer diagnosis gave me a shocking reminder that this world is not my home.

Oh sure, a number of Scriptures roamed in the background of my mind — to be honest, far in the background.

“Store up for yourselves treasures in heaven” (Matthew 6:20).

“We know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands” (2 Corinthians 5:1).

“Our citizenship is in heaven” (Philippians 3:20).

As a pastor, I preached an entire series on heaven. I’ve always been inspired by attending the funerals of faithful Christians because they remind me to live this life focused on investing in the next one.

As general secretary, I refer to our Constitution and Bylaws on an almost daily basis. The final four articles in our Statement of Fundamental Truths refer to the “last things” — the Rapture, the Second Coming, the Millennium, the Final Judgment — that culminate in what Peter calls “a new heaven and a new earth, where righteousness dwells” (2 Peter 3:13).

I believed and taught all these things, but until my cancer diagnosis, what I affirmed doctrinally didn’t always sink in emotionally. I carried on with daily life without giving thought to my mortality. I didn’t focus on the reality that this could be me and this could be soon.

Suddenly, however, my mortality was staring me in the face. I had a fast-moving cancer. Before I closed up my house to head to Ohio for treatment at the Cleveland Clinic, which was near family, I made sure the paperwork regarding my estate was in order. If I died, I wanted my family to be able to easily find important estate planning documents.

Obviously, God spared me. And yet, this brush with mortality heightened my awareness of how transitory life is. That’s what the Preacher means when he says, “Vanity of vanities; all is vanity” (Ecclesiastes 1:2, KJV).

He’s not talking about pride. The Hebrew word is hebel, and it refers to mist, vapor, or breath. Life is like a mist, the Preacher is saying; it’s here, then it’s gone — and it can go quickly.

What I affirmed doctrinally didn’t always sink in emotionally. I carried on with daily life without giving thought to my mortality. I didn’t focus on the reality that this could be me and this could be soon.

Today, I have an emotional, not just doctrinal, understanding of what it means to say that my life is in God’s hands. Because He is sovereign, God gets to pick when this life ends and the next one starts, whether by His imminent return or my personal departure.

If you’ve never had a brush with mortality like mine, I’m happy for you to peek over my shoulder as I seek to live life well, with one foot on earth and one foot in heaven.

Here are three lessons in particular that I found helpful.

1. Music. We live in an era in which worship — what Paul calls “psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit” (Ephesians 5:19) — has moved front and center in our gatherings. Worship unites thought and feeling effectively.

Sometimes, more theology is caught by singing than taught through preaching. Rather than complaining about extended worship, we church leaders should capture the opportunity it provides to align head and heart toward God.

During my battle with cancer, I found myself encouraged by songs such as CeCe Winans’ “Come Jesus, Come.” The chorus says,

Come, Jesus, come!
We’ve been waiting so long,
For the day You return
To heal every hurt
And right every wrong.
We need You right now;
Come and turn this around!
Deep down I know
This world isn’t home.
Come, Jesus, come!

These words give voice to the reality that the world is not the way it’s supposed to be. But they also look forward to the day when Christ will make everything right. That’s the beauty of worship; it frames Bible doctrine as the heart’s prayer.

Knowing the power of what we might call “sung theology,” then, let’s be selective in our personal playlists as well as the worship sets we plan for our weekend gatherings.

2. Perspective. There are moments when life comes to a screeching halt, such as the morning of Sept. 11, 2001; or the day that businesses, schools, and churches closed because of the pandemic; or in my case, the day I received my cancer diagnosis.

In those moments, we begin to look at life differently. Things we thought were important, that captured our full attention or caused us immense stress, suddenly lose their grip. We realize that those things are smaller than they first appeared.

Why not give yourself permission to shift perspective here and now and ask yourself, How will this matter in light of eternity? If you have been offended, will it matter? If your preferences clash with those of a loved one, friend, or colleague, will they matter? Will the hours devoted to this project matter?

C.T. Studd, the famous British missionary, wrote a poem whose stanzas all conclude with these two lines:

Only one life, ’twill soon be past,
Only what’s done for Christ will last.

Put on that lens of eternity and see how it shifts your perspective!

3. Ministry Pace. There is always more to do when you lead a church or ministry. Another sermon to prepare, another shut-in to visit, another troubled congregant to counsel, another meeting to chair. And let’s not forget that we have families at home waiting for us to join them for dinner!

In ministry, it is possible to do the work of God for others at a pace that kills the work of God in us. We work for God, but we are not God. We need to be mindful of our human limitations. Stress can motivate us to complete a task, but when our adrenaline is always running at full throttle, our bodies crash. They simply are not designed to live and work that way.

So, are you practicing a ministry pace that can sustain you till your last day? Are you giving your best attention to the things that will matter most when you get to the end of it all?

Article 13 of our Statement of Fundamental Truths refers to Christ returning for the saints as “the imminent and blessed hope of the church.” He could return at any moment, and that’s good news!

But here’s something I learned from my cancer scare: I could return to Christ at any moment, too. The Bible reminds us that our time on earth is limited.

“All people are like grass,
and all their glory is like the flowers of the field;
the grass withers and the flowers fall,
but the word of the Lord endures forever” (1 Peter 1:24–25).

Either way, are you ready to meet Him?

Living with one foot in the world and one foot ready to step out is an important topic. Have you thought about it personally? Have you discussed it with others, whether family and close friends, colleagues, or the entire congregation? To quote C.T. Studd one more time:

And when I am dying, how happy I’ll be,
If the lamp of my life has been burned out for Thee!