Today, I will pause to write about two men who were virtually contemporaries. One was born into honor’s seat but by his actions arguably stripped away his own right to remain there. The other could have been given humility as a middle name, and yet history remembers him just as readily — and far more favorably — even though he met with a cruel end.

The first is Herod the Great, ancient king. While it is true that he oversaw and finalized some majestic projects in his time, he is also famous for other reasons. More commonly known is the story about his ordering the massacre of numerous infant boys; somewhat less commonly known is the story about his ordering the death of a hundred or more leading men to take place at the time of his own death so that people across the nation would still actually mourn and not rejoice. He died after an agonizing, long-term physical illness, literally eaten alive in a manner of speaking.

The second is John the Baptist, ancient prophet. He was born shortly before King Herod’s death and would grow up to be a thorn in the flesh of many, including several of Herod’s surviving family members. He had nothing to his name but the robe and belt he wore, and he was the quintessential minimalist in terms of worldly living. But his message shook the whole region and his beautiful, brash courage smacked all those in authority down a few notches without him ever having to raise a finger in violent protest. He died quickly and separated from his friends, at an order following a request steeped in hatred and drawn out through perversity. But when he died, his students and his cousin mourned with tender sincerity.

Through Harod’s life, we see that one may be born into a place of honor, but one will also choose throughout their lifetime’s actions and attitudes whether they deserve to die and be remembered in that same place…or not.

Through John’s life, we see that one may be born into an average family, and one may have little or nothing to their name when they leave this world, but they can also have left an honorable legacy. They can have changed the world for the better. They can have died with a conscience far cleaner and clearer than that of the one(s) who killed them.

I am not planning to move to the desert anytime soon, to dress in camel’s skin and eat locusts, or to take up a calling in calling out my national leadership at the top of my lungs on a daily basis.

But I do know which of those two men I want to mimic in terms of how I live my life and what legacy I want to leave behind when I am gone.

Come, friends. Let us follow a path that is truly honorable.