When you perform a complete backup and system restore on your computer, you miss some things, like the news I got last night from friends: Leonard Nimoy, the man behind Mr. Spock, passed away. Of course, you wouldn't realize there were more important things going on by the way my Twitter feed blew up with the news once I finally got back online and read through the reactions.

I didn't encounter Nimoy until I was out of college and CBS put the original Star Trek series online. I quickly developed a motto: when in doubt, watch Spock. His character was always interesting to follow even when the rest of the story stunk. Later I learned he directed and served as a consultant on the films; he developed original stage works and acted on Broadway. His tweets were poignant and sure to prompt a smile with the signature hashtag #LiveLongAndProsper.

But the thing that struck me reading through all the memorials and quotes was that he died at 83 years of age. My grandfather is the same age, a fact I never realized until now.

My Grandaddy doesn't feel that much older than I've ever known him to be, despite the fact that I know so intellectually. His service in the Korean conflict seem as ancient to me as Nimoy's tenure as Spock, both events long over by the time I learned about them. What I know and remember is the stable presence he's been in my life for as long as I can remember. Grandaddy is warmth, love, peace, and a light-hearted ability to find simple joy in whatever life throws you, a talent honed through the difficulties of a poor rural upbringing. I know the possibility exists that he could pass from our family; I simply don't always believe it, or act like I do.

That's why I don't want to post a Nimoy memorial today; there are many, many others online, and far better ones than any I could come up with (see Tor, Blastr, Indiewire). It wouldn't be honest: I respect the actor and like the character, but I didn't feel the deep groundswell of emotion so many are now professing. Instead, there's that little phrase so many are using now, the one Nimoy himself signed his Tweets with: "Live Long and Prosper."

While it's the traditional Vulcan farewell, it's a very humanist phrase. The implication is that the two are entwined; to live well is to prosper. Of course, in the mythos of Trek, Vulcans live far longer than humans by a scale of centuries. To wish other beings their own extended lifespan is an act of generosity.

But in the Christian view (and indeed, from the perspective of Nimoy's own Jewish heritage), to live long is not necessarily to prosper. In Genesis the first people forsake the Tree of Life for the the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil; humanity's longevity is later cut down by God. Traditionally this act is viewed as a punishment, a judgement on the wickedness of the earth that would later prompt the Creator to drown His own work. But it is also a merciful decision. Science fiction is replete with examples of how life without boundaries both moral and physical becomes meaningless, how beings who respect neither the laws of God nor time may inflict the greatest harm imaginable. To wish to live longer in a life that is stagnantly individualistic, to desire to prosper outside of divine goodness, is certainly the kind of hell envisioned by CS Lewis, one he describes as being locked and bolted from the inside to keep God out.

Fortunately Spock did not live out the motto he made famous. His character's struggle between his Vulcan and Human nature has been read as a metaphor for any number of personal trials, but in this one phrase we see the crux of his conflict: despite the potential for centuries of life, he choose a career that put those years in jeopardy on a regular basis. He did not settle for living long: he wanted to live well, to prosper through serving a goal higher than his own interests.

I've often said that to be a Christian is to embrace the concept of paradox: we at once acknowledge we will never achieve perfection, while still attempting to emulate the one perfect Being in the universe. But Spock's struggle, though enjoyable and meaningful in its own way, is not a clear embodiment of the cross we bear. He's too much a Rorschach test, too easy to bend to whatever statement (religious, personal, political) we want to make. Spock is universal, which also means he's impractical for anything more than the broadest moral concepts. That's not to diminish the joy and inspiration he's brought to so many lives. It's to acknowledge that no matter how much we like him, Spock is not a person who can provide specific guidance.

To live well is to find our purpose in life, our "place in this world" to quote Michael W. Smith. We all seek to find that. I'm seeking it right now. But no matter how much I desire to achieve the artistic feats of Nimoy, who directed films and plays and achieved a real impact on the world (and believe me, I want that, so much), I also have to daily remind myself that such work is secondary to my first essential calling: to love and worship God, the Trinity. Tertiary, really, since the next commandment is to love my neighbor, one my Grandfather has followed since before I can remember. Doing unto others is living well, no matter how many years we are given.

I'm prone to falling in on myself, becoming absorbed in the minutiae of my own cares and concerns. The Pauline injunction to "die daily" is one I've come to appreciate for its very appropriate description of what I must do to serve the God I claim to worship, but who I often forget to acknowledge, much like my Grandfather's health. It's easy to think that what I want to achieve is of the highest importance. It's harder to think of what I can do for those around me, even my friends, and then there's the world at large.

Again, paradoxically, the only way to achieve good art is to forget self and even the desire to create it, and instead push my focus outward. So, here's to living well by helping others prosper. If Spock helps you to do that, great. If a family member or mentor does so, better. Yet these are all imitations of the one example we have of a truly better way to live. In this Lenten season let us remember to emulate the One who not only died and rose for his friends, but also his enemies, who (paradoxically) are one and the same until reconciled in His holy sacrifice.

A final note: Mr. Nimoy produced LLAP-themed merchandise during his lifetime for fans. His family is currently selling those items with the proceeds going to benefit charity.