39

Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated 40 years ago today.

He died too young at the age of 39.

39 years to change the world. That's pretty fast work.

I know.

I'm 39.

Jesus lived only 33 years. Alexander the Great, too. It doesn't take long to make an impact, not if you believe in what you're doing.

On my first visit to Memphis many years ago, a friend drove me by the Lorraine Motel to see the balcony where Dr. King was killed. At the time, the biggest impression it made on me was how run-down the place was.

I didn't understand.

I was born 4 months after King's death, born at the end of the turmoil that embroiled our country. By the time I was aware, the biggest clash was between my orange plaid pants and my pink flowered jacket.

I can't say I fully understand even now, though I've had a taste or two of what it means to live in a country divided against itself. I've also come to realize that it's not the place of death that brings honor or dishonor - it's the life led. Jesus' life was not defined by his death on a garbage heap. Neither was Martin Luther King's by his assassination at a seedy motel. If anything, his choice of lodging speaks of his humility, his integrity.

His legacy.

39 years and we'll never be the same.