O Death

One of the beautiful truths of the Christian faith lies in these verses:

"'Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?'

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! 

He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."

-1 Corinthians 15:55-57 (NIV)

Because Jesus Christ died and rose again, conquering the grave, His children don't need to fear death, and we are no longer slaves to the death that is our sin. It's true that, unless Christ returns first, we will still die. But in every other way, Christians are free from the grave. Death holds no victory and brings no lasting bitterness. For the believer death means life. Jesus' death on the cross means eternal life for us, and our physical death means being ushered in to the presence of God, where we will know no more sickness or sinning or heartache or shame. Where we will see God. 

But... death is still a hard thing. A dreadful thing. A terrifying, heart-ripping, inescapable thing. When I read news or hear of people losing their precious ones to car accidents or cancer, miscarriages or old age, war or gang violence - it is a hard thing. Even if the person who died was a believer, we hurt, we grieve, we ask God why. I wept when my grandpa died, and when my other grandpa died, and when my grandmother died, though all of them loved the Lord. And, I'll be honest, if I found out I were dying soon, I would be filled with fear. And it would take an ocean's amount of God's grace to learn joy and trust in that, though I know it is possible. 

Though we know the truth of life - eternal life - death is a hard thing to face and to deal with. 

Reader, I'll let you in on a little secret. ... I am facing death. Not physical death (though God's plan could have me facing that at any time). No, the death that confronts and terrifies me is spiritual, mental, emotional. And it is daily, hourly, minute by minute. The death I'm talking about is what the Christian community calls "death to self."

What I am called to today, in this moment and tomorrow and the next day and every day after, is to die. My flesh, the old Emily who pursued sin and hated God and did everything for herself... she has to die, along with her wicked desires. Because life with the old Emily is death. She has to die so that the new Emily, the clothed-in-Christ's-righteousness Emily, can live and live abundantly.

"... if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; 

the old has gone, the new has come!"

-2 Corinthians 5:17 (NIV)

The new, in-Christ Emily is already a reality. But I can't live in this newness if old Emily is still alive and kicking. I have to kill her. Every day. Of course, I don't mean that I do myself any kind of physical harm. What I mean is that when my sinful heart draws me toward disobedience, I have to kill the old Emily and not disobey, no matter how much I want to. When I'm tempted to be impatient or angry or proud or lustful, I have to kill the old Emily and live according to Christ's strength and righteousness. I have to kill the old Emily.

That sounds a bit harsh, doesn't it? I mean, really? I have to kill her? I don't think we really grasp how harsh it actually is. Jesus said, "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full" (John 10:10 NIV). But He also said, 

"If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself 

and take up his cross daily and follow me. 

For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, 

but whoever loses his life for me will save it." 

-Luke 9:23-24

The cross, as much as we are used to it, is a symbol of death. Gruesome, torturous death. I don't know if you've seen The Passion of the Christ (or any other Jesus/gospel movie for that matter), but I can never stand to watch the crucifixion scene. Death on a cross is bloody and brutal. Yet this is the kind of spiritual death we're called to embrace every day. We're called to crucify our old selves. 

When temptation calls and I want to say "yes" to sin, I must crucify my flesh and say "no." When I crave attention or want credit for doing something good, I must crucify my flesh and remain content with obscurity. When I'm tempted toward impatience or anger or lust, I must crucify my flesh and act in patience, grace, and purity. And on and on. 

Sound impossible?

In our strength - that is, in our weakness - it is impossible. And I feel that impossibility. I don't want to kill my sinful desires. I don't want to take up my cross daily. I much prefer the ease of choosing sin. Just like physical death, daily spiritual death is difficult and painful. And I become discouraged because I do not often choose this death of my self for the sake of life in Christ. But these verses give me hope:

"For Christ's love compels us, because we are convinced 

that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all, 

that those who live should no longer live for themselves 

but for Him who died for them and was raised again."

-2 Corinthians 5:14-15

Reader, in my strength it is impossible to die to my old self. But just as we possess eternal life through Christ Jesus and need not fear physical death, we also have death in Him and need not be enslaved to our old ways of living. In His strength, I put the old self to death so that I can enjoy fullness and abundance of life in Christ.

So in every way, in Christ, death means life.