Life In Christ
As humans, it is easy to fixate on the death of Christ. It is deeply ingrained in our nature to hold death as the ultimate source of fear. However, I think what has always struck me most about the gospel story, is that Jesus could have never chosen to live a human life in the first place. As we often sing in church, “He left the splendor of Heaven knowing his destiny was the lonely hill of Golgotha.”
His rightful place was always at the right hand of God; we read in Revelations that “worthy is the lamb that was slain to receive power, and riches, and wisdom, and strength, and honour, and glory, and blessing.” He never had to confine himself to the limitations of the human experience. He never had to be trapped in a constant cycle of postponing hunger and exhaustion. He never had to experience a stubbed toe or restless night. It wasn’t that he couldn’t understand what humans go through, or that it was beyond his power to empathize with us. He was simply proving to us, through what I’m sure was thirty-three long years, seeing as the crucifixion was always looming in the peripheral, that we were never alone in our struggles.
I can't help but wonder how much he remembered of heaven, its jasper walls and glittering shores, as he trekked the rugged terrain of Judea. I wonder how much he could understand of his role as a child; did the idea develop alongside his neurological development, or was it the first thing he ever came to grasp? Could he feel the splinters of the cross when Joseph guided his young hands in woodworking? Did he ever feel those wretched thorns when weaving flower crowns for his infant siblings? Some things aren’t given for us to know.
Regardless, it is the life of Christ that makes his death significant. Both the life he lived up until the cross - the things he suffered, the sermons he taught, the people he healed - and the life he lives eternally afterward. Many people love to emphasize that Jesus died to forgive us of our sins, and fail to recognize that forgiveness was always available through the Old Law. Of course, it's still a great privilege that we can claim Christ’s sacrifice for our own instead of having to present and slaughter an animal each time we commit a trespass. But that’s not the end of the story. He died for our sins, and was raised for our resurrection. Just as we are called to take on the death of Christ in crucifying our own wants and desires, we are called to live for Him, whatever that may look like.
Because as much as we fear death, death is nothing, not in the face of Jesus’ victory over the grave. It's easy to say we would take a bullet for Christ, we’d probably say we’d take a bullet for any of our friends and family, but there just aren’t bullets being fired, not for the vast majority of us anyways. It's what we do in the meantime that makes that resolution matter. Dying for God is just the start, now are we willing to live for Him? Do we truly believe Paul when he wrote, “for me to live is Christ and die is gain”? Are we willing to take up our Cross?
The world would love to have us believe our life on earth is defined by worldly pleasures. We’ve all seen movies or commercials where people shout “I feel alive!” as they race down the boulevard in their new luxury car. They lean back in their chairs on the sands of Waikiki and declare “this is the life, this is what it’s all about.” Many can’t get that feeling outside of drugs, parties, or alcohol. If that’s how we define living then it’s no wonder we are called to die daily.
On the other hand, as someone who’s dealt with chronic pain for as long as I can really remember, it’s hard for me not to view life as a seventy year long migraine. It can be tempting to try and sabotage your future for the chance to make it to heaven faster. It’s even more tempting just to ignore the prospect of a future here on earth entirely, especially as a junior in high school who’s having to make decisions about where to go to college or what to do for work.
Wherever you fall on the spectrum, it’s critical to let God define what your life is and be determined to see it out through the end. If it never gets better, God will give you the strength to make it somehow. We are here for a reason, and it’s not merely to invest in our happiness, nor is it sheerly for the spectacle of our suffering, even though it is true that what we go through can do a lot to encourage others if we are willing to be vulnerable.
I remember recently, I found myself lying back to the floor; unable, it seemed, to stand in the face of what the road ahead of me looked like. How was I supposed to do, sixty, seventy more years of this? How was I supposed to live one more week? How was I supposed to wake up the next morning to one more migraine?
I remember a calm sort of contentment washing over me in that moment, subtle but identifiable. It was the quiet joy of unconditional courage. It’s so different from the stubbornness the world would brand as bravery. I can’t do this because of who I am, but because of who God is. And there is a beauty in being able to brave anything. Maybe even an excitement.
It’s that sort of feeling you get when rallied together with the saints, raising your voices as one, in triumph over the battles to come. “Go forward in the power God has given you, and in his strength, until the end endure!”
Paige Bashem