Edges. That is what life is, mostly. Edges. Think about that today. Your life. You life as mostly edges. 

Calvin Miller wrote a book about his life; titled Life is Mostly Edges: A Memoir. And I wrote about him and that book—and many of his other books, in chapter six of Things We’ve Handed Down. 

Here are some of my thoughts. Read them, please. Read about Calvin Miller, please. And, please, think about your life and its edges:

We looked forward to Calvin Miller’s visit. Plans had been made one year before. He would come to north Georgia and spend time with us at Emmanuel University. He would preach and teach and let us ask him questions. We would learn from his spiritual journey, his years of ministry, his writing, his artwork, his life. 

This was happening—one of my favorite writers had become someone regularly communicating with me and now he was coming to speak to our students. 

But this happened—one of my favorite writers died.

I had planned to take him to lunch or dinner (or, my preference, both lunch and dinner) at BarH, my beloved barbeque restaurant. I wanted him to see the place I invited readers to see as I highlighted him and other authors in my book Pause. In fact, I planned to give him a copy of the book and thank him again for his endorsement. Calvin was the first to write about that book after I finished it. I was, and I still am, humbled and honored by words written about my words, words written by one of my favorite writers of words.

But one of my favorite writers died. 

Thinking about words, I enjoyed and learned from Calvin Miller’s words for many years. I hoped our students could also enjoy and learn. His words spoken in that tone, that humor, those stories, do that. His words written with that flow, that honesty, those poems do that. As we planned for him to stand in the Swails Center and Taylor Auditorium, we knew his words would dare us to ask and think and believe. We knew he would be honest as he handed words down to us. We knew he would tell us about life being mostly edges, about disarming the darkness, about the unfinished soul, about the Singer and the song.

I wanted our students to be influenced by Calvin Miller as I have been, as I still am. Through my years of pastoring and writing and living, his words inspired me and challenged me. His words I heard through sermons; his words I read through books and articles and stories and poems.

But one of my favorite writers died. 

Each of his books invited me to a unique world. The Singer Trilogy—The Singer, The Song, The Finale—was my first experience with the wonder of his stories. His poetic guidance allowed me fresh visits with the Gospel, Acts, and Revelation. I engaged in new dimensions of life through so many of the lines and paragraphs I found in Miller’s books: The Celtic Path of Prayer, Into the Depths of God, The Philippian Fragment, Loving God Up Close, Preaching: The Art of Narrative Exposition, Letters to a Young Pastor, An Owner’s Manual for the Unfinished Soul.

But, in ways very profound and unexplainable, his memoir met me in unexpected ways: Life is Mostly Edges: A Memoir. He handed things down to me. The biography, if I can call it that, helped me identify some of my edges, some of my many edges. I relived my years of pastoring; I became aware again of my disability; I thought more about my own future. 

I guess Calvin Miller was right. Life was, and is, mostly edges. 

And speaking of that future, as I write this letter in this collection of letters for another book of my own, I’m now rereading and quoting words from many of his books. Calvin Miller’s collections of words revealed words and wounds and wishes I had collected. Stored. Hidden. Boxed. Opening his books again helped open me again. I found that life is, as he said, mostly edges.