Resume Virtues vs. Eulogy Virtues

Are you chasing success or building a legacy of love? Consider the virtues that last.

In a 2014 conference, New York Times writer David Brooks delivered a talk titled “How to Be Religious in the Public Square.” He explained that we live in an achievement-driven culture, where success is our main pursuit. Brooks identified two types of virtues we live by:

• Resume virtues: Qualities that help us succeed in our work.

• Eulogy virtues: Traits we hope people will remember about us at our funerals.

Brooks argued:

“In our secular achievement culture, we all know the eulogy virtues are more important, but we spend more time focusing on resume virtues.”

Resume virtues—qualities like ambition, creativity, and achievement—can lead to incredible contributions that improve the world. But when they become our main focus, they can pull us away from what truly matters. After all, no one wants their tombstone to say, "Worked long hours, achieved success, and earned big bonuses—at the cost of time with loved ones." Yet many people, as they approach the end of their lives, are haunted by regrets—not for what they didn’t achieve, but for the relationships they neglected and the love they failed to give.

The apostle Paul, in 1 Corinthians, reminds us of a hard truth: we can have the most impressive skills, the strongest resumes, and even be deeply committed to morality and God’s commands. But if we lack love, all of it amounts to nothing. Love is the true measure of success, yet so often, we only realize this when it’s too late.

C.S. Lewis once wrote, “Aim at Heaven and you will get Earth thrown in; aim at Earth and you will get neither.” This wisdom can also be applied to resume and eulogy virtues:

If we focus on eulogy virtues—qualities like love, kindness, integrity, generosity, and being fully present with the people in front of us—we’ll often find that the resume virtues, such as success and achievement, follow as a natural byproduct. But if we focus solely on resume virtues, chasing success at all costs, we risk losing both—success becomes hollow, and the deeper virtues that matter most slip away.

In his talk, David Brooks pointed out that when we focus most of our time, energy, and effort on resume virtues, neglecting the eulogy virtues, we fall into a tragic complacency—a kind of self-satisfied moral mediocrity. We're content as long as others like us and we feel like we're “winning.” But deep down, we sense a “humiliating gap” between who we are and who we aspire to be.

Scripture consistently elevates love as the highest virtue. Jesus summed up all the commandments—the entire blueprint for living a flourishing human life—as love for God and love for neighbor. It was God's love that motivated Him to send His Son to save a broken humanity and rescue us from ourselves.

A life lived in love is the true measure of success.

Resume virtues are important. God created us with a purpose, calling us to use our work and talents as part of His mission to renew and restore the world. Our achievements can make a real difference—but only when guided by something greater. At the heart of it all is the most important eulogy virtue: agape love. Without love, even our greatest skills, faith, or morality lose their meaning. But with love, even our weakest yet sincere efforts gain power, becoming a force for healing, restoration, and the betterment of the world.

This is why I’ve made it a daily habit to pray:

Heavenly Father,
Grant me character that exceeds my gifts.
Grant me humility that exceeds my impact.

Lessons From a Broken Church

The prophet Jeremiah warns that the heart has a great capacity for self-deception. We can be doing all the "right things"—attending church, serving in ministry, studying Scripture, praying regularly, feeding the hungry, helping the weak, preaching sound theology, and confronting bad theology.

We may lead others to Christ but still miss the mark. As the Lord Himself said:

“Behold, I have given you authority to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy, and nothing shall hurt you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice in this, that the spirits are subject to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”

Consider Judas. He was one of the Twelve Apostles and served as the treasurer for Jesus and the disciples. He prayed, healed, and even cast out demons in Jesus’ name. He spoke up for the poor and appeared outwardly faithful. When Jesus announced at the Last Supper that one of the disciples would betray Him, no one suspected Judas. On the surface, he seemed no different from the others.

Yet Judas was not just a disciple and leader—he was also the “Son of Perdition.” While his ministry impacted others, Judas himself remained unchanged. He mastered the resume virtues—position, activity, and reputation—but failed to embrace the eulogy virtues that reveal the heart. In the end, he traded his soul for thirty pieces of silver. His story is a tragic warning: you can have every opportunity to thrive and still finish poorly if love is absent.

The same issue put the church at Corinth at risk. Many believers there were admired for their spiritual gifts, outward success, and public displays of faith. Some spoke in tongues, others preached with power and persuasion, and some had prophetic insight or immense biblical knowledge. Others demonstrated mountain-moving faith, gave generously, or were even willing to die for their beliefs.

Yet, as Paul wrote, they lacked the one thing that mattered most: love.

Without love, all their accomplishments were meaningless. They gained nothing and became nothing. Their polished exteriors hid hearts that were empty , polluted, and divided. Like Judas, they were rich in resume virtues but poor in love—the core eulogy virtue. Without love, all their achievements, no matter how impressive, ultimately amounted to nothing.

The True Test Of Love

In his letters to the Corinthians, Paul highlights an essential truth: our love for God is revealed through the way we love others.

In Corinth, however, this love had been distorted. The church was plagued by judgment, divisions over trivial doctrinal issues, and moral failings. Believers were suing each other, divorcing without legitimate reasons, and misusing their Christian freedom in ways that hurt those with weaker faith. They ignored the poor and even excluded them from the Lord’s Supper—shutting out the very people Jesus wanted to welcome.

Instead of expanding their circle of love, they were narrowing it.

To confront this lack of love, Paul gives the Corinthians a compelling vision of what love is in 1 Corinthians 13. He describes love as patient, kind, humble, generous, selfless, peaceful, and truthful. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.

This wasn’t a feel-good message—it was a direct rebuke. Paul was showing the Corinthians how far they had fallen short, failing in nearly every way.

And Paul doesn’t sugarcoat it. He calls them out directly: “When you come together as a church... there are divisions among you... factions...When you come together, it is not the Lord’s Supper that you eat.”

But when love is present, everything changes. Divisions and factions disappear. Love compels us to expand our circle, to include others. When love is in the air, the Lord’s Supper once again becomes a true Agape Feast—a meal that welcomes all who believe, regardless of background, status, or resume. This is a table for both decorated saints and broken sinners, for the wealthy and the poor, the confident believers and the struggling doubters.

Jesus “welcomes sinners, and eats with them.”

The more we walk the narrow path of following Jesus, the wider our embrace for others will become. The more convinced we are of Jesus’ exclusive claim—that He is the way, the truth, and the life—the more His kindness and compassion will flow through us to include others. The deeper we understand Christ’s bleeding love for us, the more our hearts will bleed for those who have kept a distance from His warm, protective, welcoming embrace.

Belonging Before Believing

It is compelling how Jesus welcomed outsiders in, offering them a place to belong even before they believed.

Take the woman caught in adultery. She had sinned against God, wrecked a home, and brought shame upon herself and her community. Pious, sanctimonious men publicly exposed her disgrace, insisting that lawbreakers like her must be condemned, shamed, and cast out—turned into an example.

This is what happens in communities with a narrow view of “us.” They morph into a coliseum culture, where mobs form, a common enemy is named, and a caricature is created. The woman is no longer seen as a person, but as a sinner—an object, not a person bearing God's image. The mob dehumanizes her: she’s not a woman, but a “whore.” Not a she, but an “it.”

Then comes the shaming, scolding, and condemnation.

But Jesus responds differently. Left alone with the woman, He says two things: “I do not condemn you. Now go and leave your life of sin.” The sequence of these statements is crucial. If we reverse them—demanding change before offering grace—we lose Christianity and replace it with rigid, religious moralism. We lose Jesus.

Jesus expands His “us.”

"God demonstrates His love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

“When our hearts condemn us, God is greater than our hearts.”

Where love rules, it’s grace first, then ethics. With Jesus, love sets the stage for the conversation about morality. It’s not our repentance that brings about God's kindness, but God’s kindness that leads us to repentance.

In my years of pastoral ministry, I’ve never seen someone bow the knee to Jesus because a Christian shamed and scolded them about their ethics. Have you?

But I’ve seen countless people surrender their hearts to Christ because as a result of being loved—by one Christian or a group of Christians—in the name of Christ.

It’s love, not lectures, that sparks the transformation of human hearts.

Loving Like Jesus—Is It Possible?

How do we become the kind of people—the kind of lovers—who form grace-filled communities that silence the voices of shame? How do we become those who bless, feed, and pray for even those who try to harm us?

How does love grow?

There’s only one way: Love must become a Person to us before it becomes a verb. The One who is Love—Jesus—doesn't just love us when we’re at our best. He loves us when we’re at our worst. When we’re caught in the act. When we fall asleep instead of watching and praying. When we deny Him three times. When we become His persecutors. When we pass out drunk in His presence like Noah did—but not just on alcohol, but on ambition, greed, grudges, lust, and self-righteousness.

Into these broken places, Jesus says, “You clearly need rehab—may I come with you? Can I pay the fee? Walk with you toward sobriety, then a new life, then a seat at my Table, then a place in my Family, then a mission in my Kingdom? All you need is nothing. All you need is need.”

How do we love like Jesus?

It starts with resting, receiving, and sobering up. It starts by stopping. Instead of striving to love like Jesus, we first need to learn what it means to be with Him. Because the more we are with Jesus, the more we’ll become like Him. Like a virus, love is caught more than it is achieved.

Let’s walk this path—the path of love, the eulogy path. Shall we?