Take care of your life and the Lord will take care of your death.

“Take care of your life and the Lord will take care of your death.” Thus spoke George Whitefield, the fiery preacher of the Great Awakening, whose words shook the souls of men across oceans and generations. In this single line, he captures a truth both simple and profound: that life is our sacred duty, but death belongs to God. To live rightly—to love, to serve, to act with integrity and faith—is within our power; but the hour and manner of our death are mysteries beyond our reach. Whitefield calls us, therefore, to pour our strength into the part we can shape—our days beneath the sun—and to leave the rest to the Almighty. For when life has been lived in goodness and obedience, death ceases to be a terror and becomes instead a homecoming.

George Whitefield, born in 1714, was a man of thunderous spirit and divine conviction. Alongside John and Charles Wesley, he helped ignite a spiritual awakening across England and the American colonies. He preached not from comfort but from fervor—under open skies, in streets and fields, before crowds that numbered in the tens of thousands. He spoke often of the fleeting nature of life, for he had seen many fall in their prime, and knew how swiftly time turns men to dust. Yet he did not preach fear of death; he preached preparation for it. To “take care of your life”, in his mind, meant to live with faith, to labor in righteousness, to walk humbly before God and man. The rest—the unseen hour when breath departs—was not ours to govern.

The meaning of his words reaches beyond the boundaries of religion; it touches the very core of human wisdom. He reminds us that worrying about death is fruitless, for death is the one certainty against which no defense can stand. Instead, the wise turn their energy toward living well—toward virtue, compassion, and purpose. The fool, consumed by fear of the end, wastes the gift of the present moment. In this way, Whitefield echoes the wisdom of the ancients: that we must learn not to flee from death, but to meet it unafraid, knowing we have lived as we ought. For the one who has taken care of his life has already conquered his death.

History is filled with examples of those who embodied this truth. Consider the life of Joan of Arc, the maiden of France. From her youth, she claimed to hear the voice of God calling her to lead her people in battle. She lived boldly, with a heart pure in purpose and a will unshaken by fear. When she was captured and condemned to die, she did not tremble. She had taken care of her life—she had done what she was called to do. The Lord, she believed, would take care of her death. And indeed, though her body was consumed by flame, her name and spirit became immortal. So it is with all who live in truth: death may claim their flesh, but it cannot touch their legacy.

To take care of your life, as Whitefield taught, is not merely to survive—it is to live consciously, with moral clarity and spiritual courage. It means to tend to one’s duties with love, to pursue goodness not for reward but because it is right. It means to make peace with oneself, to forgive, to serve, and to cultivate joy even amid hardship. Those who live thus need not fear the unknown, for they have aligned their will with the divine order. The Lord, who governs all things, will not abandon the soul that has lived faithfully. The man who has walked uprightly through life may step into death with the calm assurance of one going home.

There is also a deeper freedom hidden in this teaching. By entrusting death to the Lord, we release ourselves from the bondage of fear. How many men waste their years building walls against mortality—hoarding wealth, clinging to youth, denying the passage of time? Yet none can stop the river of life from flowing toward the sea. Whitefield’s wisdom calls us to surrender, not in despair, but in faith—that the same hand that fashioned our beginning will also guide our end. To live without fear of death is to live fully, bravely, and gratefully.

So, my child, take this lesson as your own: care for your life as a gardener tends his garden. Nurture what is good, pull up what is corrupt, and trust that when the season ends, the harvest will be enough. Do not spend your strength in dread of the inevitable. Instead, pour it into the living—into kindness, into work, into love. For death, when it comes, is not an ending but a door, and the One who stands beyond it will not fail those who have lived in faith and integrity. Thus, as Whitefield taught, let us labor to live rightly—and leave the rest to God, whose care outlasts even the grave.