A friend once asked me for relationship advice. Specifically, this friend wanted to know how far is too far when it comes to pursuing a love interest, and when is it best to just move on. Even though this was the equivalent of asking a toddler for advice on how to hit a curveball, I did my best.

I said (paraphrasing):

“I can only tell you how I would handle it. Personally, I would climb a mountain in order to be with a girl I considered worthy. I would brave the elements, bears, wolves and even the possibility of falling to my death in order to get to the top. However, if every time during my journey when I stopped to look at the top of the mountain with my binoculars I saw that the girl did not seem interested or concerned, I would stop. I’d pack it in, call it a day and go home.”

It seemed like sensible advice to me. I believed I was doing my friend a kindness.

After all, nothing in this world worth having comes easily. You want something, you have to fight for it. At the same time, you have to know when it’s time to fold and wait for the next hand of cards to be dealt.

But then I read stories like this one of the 550-pound man who died after spending 8 months in a reclining chair.

The man, Daniel Webb of South Carolina, was only 33 years old.

He was a kind, religious man with a loving wife.

He died on the couple’s wedding anniversary.

His wife, Ada, said that while it was the worst anniversary imaginable for her it was the best ever for Daniel because “he’s with Jesus now.”

If you haven’t already, go read the Associated Press article about his death. It’s one of the most bittersweet stories I have read in quite some time.

Sweet because Daniel didn’t die alone. Sweet because he knew the Lord and is walking and running around in Heaven right now. Sweet because he no longer feels embarrassed by his physical state.

But it’s also bitter.

Bitter because the headlines announcing his death will cause some to snicker. Bitter because he was so young. Bitter because he lived the last 8 months of his life slowly dying in a recliner. Bitter because he’s leaving behind a loving wife. Bitter because he’ll never see his child grow up or see his grandchildren; he’ll never get to read them bedtime stories or teach them how to drive a car. Bitter because the world needs as many people who love the Lord as possible. Bitter because I can imagine the sadness and embarrassment he must have felt.

I didn’t know Daniel. All I have to go on are the facts of his death and the quotes given by his wife. But when I read his story, what I see is a flaw in the advice I gave my friend so long ago. The flaw?

Sometimes, you have to go “all in” even when the hand you’ve been dealt doesn’t seem promising.

When paramedics brought Daniel home in March after he had knee surgery, they warned him that if they placed him in the recliner he was unlikely to ever again get out of it.

He told them to do it anyway.

In that moment, Daniel decided to pack it in, call it a day and go home.

He gave up.

He gave up even though the girl at the top of the mountain (his wife) was interested and concerned.

So why did he give up?

Well, probably for the same hidden reasons I told my friend in my mountain-climbing scenario. The possibility of embarrassment. The possibility of failure. The possibility that the next hand dealt will be infinitely greater than this one.

Sometimes, the journey is worth the embarrassment. Sometimes it’s worth the possibility of failure. Sometimes, this hand is as good a hand as you’re ever going to be dealt.

Understand, I do not contend for a moment that Daniel isn’t happier in Heaven. But I do not and cannot believe that the Lord’s plan for his life had him dying in a reclining chair at age 33.

I believe God wanted Daniel to battle on. He wanted Daniel to fight. He wanted Daniel to live a long, happy life that positively impacted the lives of others in infinite ways.

He did not want him to sit down in that recliner.

Eight months ago, Daniel had two paths he could take. He could go “all in” or he could fold.

Daniel chose to fold.

Whether we’re talking about our own life-or-death situation, a relationship quandary or any other big life decision — there’s a lesson to be found here for each of us.

Do we want to climb that proverbial mountain even if no one is waiting for us on top, or do we want to sit down in our reclining chairs?

I didn’t know the man, but it saddens me immensely that Daniel Webb chose the latter.

Rest in peace, Daniel. You’re home now.