I don’t usually live a day without being thankful I’m alive—this, despite my occasional lament of life, is because I live with the concept of death taking me any one of these days.
I don’t see this as a morbid way to live. On the contrary, I feel I’ve already died to myself so Christ can live in me. It’s not some kooky Christianity; it’s my very purpose for living for an eternal purpose that crucifies every pathetic complaint that emerges in an instant against my purpose.
Yes, I complain, and I do so often. I live in some terms a kind of bipolar life vacillating between extremes, and in this way, I can empathise with a broader set of people. God has given me an appreciation of what it’s like to struggle—and I’m bizarrely thankful.
Back to what death’s teaching me.
1. My complaints are put into perspective on the canvas of the reality of death. I may complain, but then I face that soon I’ll be gone. Many people are quietly or not-so-quietly scared of death’s reality, but I am not. I have trust in a good God. God has granted us LIFE in its abundance—we take it as we choose it, for we must choose.
2. I’m one of these weird creatures that both craves and laments a high workload. I want to make a deep contribution in every area I can while I’m alive, but I also crave the peaceful contemplative life. I realise that I can’t have it both ways. Death teaches me that there are benefits in achievement as far as legacy is concerned, but there are also spiritual benefits in slowing down occasionally to truly be thankful, while I’m alive.
3. I want to ‘possess’ stuff in life—stuff that means a lot to me but not to most others, because it’s stuff attached to my memories and experiences, and worth next to nothing in monetary terms. Like the stuff in my small study. It’s about 64 square feet (pictured) but it’s full of the nick-nacks I’ve picked up in life. Yet, I can’t even take these valuable-to-me-but-worthless-to-others things with me when I depart this life. Death teaches me that everything material fades to nothing eventually, and that this can only be, and is best, accepted.
4. I often wonder, and lament, that I’m so busy contributing to all areas of my life that I don’t have or make the time to reflect on what’s happening. I do this and live this way in faith that I’m saying my yes to my God. My relationships—as far as they depend on me—are going well, and that’s what matters as I prepare to face my Lord. And here’s the rub: whenever I’m offered a relational opportunity, I don’t want to say no. I want to make the most of it.
5. Probably the most salient message death is teaching me is how important the rest of life is—I mean, NOT. There are so many important issues in life, but death puts them all into perspective. Death makes everything just a little less important, and I think that’s important. My faith has me believing in a justice beyond this life so I can let go of my demands for justice in this life, not that that means we shouldn’t advocate against injustice—we need to. BUT we don’t need the presence of injustice in this life to destroy our hope. We need to sustain ourselves.
Death is one of the best teachers for life, if only we’ll face others’ deaths and the prospect of our own.
Thanks for this post! It is a point of view that should be real to all of us, even if we don't have a medical death sentence or a death threat over us. We all know that mortality is brief, but we look forward. I hope you don't mind if I refer to your blog in my next blog The Path He Chose for Me.
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