The Chosen Season 4: "Lazarus, Come Out" |
Even Jesus hated death.
When Jesus' friend Lazarus died,
Jesus did not explain
that this was necessary.
He did not try to accept
Lazarus' death.
+ The Misery of Death
Deep Down Faith
This winter, I get the joy of spending some time with young people connected to Emmaus City Church engaging the Scriptures alongside one of my favorite reflections on God called Deep Down Faith by Cornelius Plantinga Jr. I've read this book three times now and Plantinga, like C.S. Lewis in many ways, has a gift for discussing profound thoughts in whimsical, rich, and accessible ways for young and old alike. The previous Deep Down Faith posts were "The Breath of God for Us When We Need It" and "The Author Is Speaking on Good Authority" featuring stories about prisoners of war and New Englanders respectively.
Today's post is appropriate in relation to this new season that we have stepped into with Lent's focus on springtime in the midst of humanity's ache for meaning in a limited world and sin's destructive sowing into the face of death. It's also personal for me as my family recently experienced a death and I will be conducting a funeral this weekend. Some of the thoughts that have been helpful for me during this time in my life are included below from pgs. 87-89 and 93 in Deep Down Faith. Perhaps they will also help you ponder death with a different outlook.
Looking for Life Without God
We Find Death
People hate death. Except when people are very old or very depressed or in terrible pain, they do not want to die. They cling to life. They shrink from death. People pray and struggle and spend money and see doctors. They try everything they can think of to ward off death.
Even Jesus hated death. When Jesus' friend Lazarus died, Jesus did not explain that this was necessary. He did not try to accept Lazarus's death. Jesus wept. And when Jesus turned to face his own death, he wept again. He struggled with God. Jesus showed that he himself feared and hated death.
Why? The reason is that death is an enemy. Death is an enemy because it is a kind of estrangement. And estrangement is a kind of disorder. And disorder is a kind of misery.
It is true, of course, that people also find death interesting. They read about it. They make and watch plays and movies about death. They wonder about what lies beyond death. For example, in Stephen Crane's The Red Badge of Courage, the hero, Henry, pauses in battle to peer into the open, staring eyes of a dead man. Crane writes that Henry is "trying to find the answer to the question." That is, Henry is trying to read in the dead man's eyes the answer to the question of whether there is life after death.
People think about death more than they admit. Even some children's prayers have a central place for death:
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
And some old children's songs are really about death, even though you wouldn't notice it at first:
Ring around the rosies,
pocket full of posies,
Ashes! Ashes!
We all fall down!
Dust to dust.
Ashes to ashes.
We all die.
But even though death fascinates people, it also frightens them. Why? Death brings pain. People often suffer before they die. People always suffer when their loved ones die. Some of us have had to suffer the death of a mother or father or brother or sister. It hurts more than anyone could ever explain. You never know how much you love a person until the person has died. Then you know.
Even those of us who have not lost a loved one can begin to imagine what it must feel like. For when we imagine one of our parents or siblings dying, we feel like weeping. It is too painful even to think about.
Death brings pain.
That is because death is an estrangement.
Death is a separation,
a ripping, a tearing of life.
Death should never have happened.
Death is a misery that comes from sin.
The penalty for disobeying God in the Garden of Eden was death. We are talking here not only about physical death but especially about spiritual death — the estrangement from God that people experience when they try to live without him.
Spiritual death includes
loneliness,
fear,
guilt,
violence,
suspicion,
and a feeling that
life has no meaning.
The name for
But once more
God has a way past this misery.
we will never spiritually die.
Nothing in the whole universe,
says Paul,
can separate us from the love of God
Think of the parable of the prodigal son.
At the end, why does the father want
At the end, why does the father want
singing and dancing and feasting?
Why is there a great, noisy, joyful party?
It is because a son who was dead
has come alive again (Luke 15:32).
For the misery of death this is
the good news of the gospel.
The prodigal (or lost) son,
as he's called,
is a picture of
the misery of estrangement.
But in the prodigal's father
who opens his arms and his home
to welcome us back and
welcome us in.
Estrangement.
Homecoming.
This is the good news of the gospel.
Return of the Prodigal Son by Rembrandt, 1669 A.D. |
For Reflection
Have you ever felt estranged from God?
What does this look and feel like?
What kind of things cause it?
How can we overcome it?
Prayer Starters
Think of all the ways God
has of keeping you close to him.
Thank God for these things and
ask God to never be far from you.
Express your feelings about death
to God.
Then be silent for a minute or two
before the God who has promised
that even though we die,
we shall still live forever.
Thank God
that you are his adopted child.
Then turn the words of the blessing
from Numbers 6 into a prayer:
The LORD bless me and protect me.
The LORD make His face shine on me
and be gracious to me.
The LORD turn His face to me
and give me peace. Amen.
Next Deep Down Faith post:
Previous Lenten posts from 2024:
May God's Kingdom come, His will be done.
Que le Royaume de Dieu vienne,
que sa volonté soit faite.
愿神的国降临,愿神的旨意成就。
Nguyện xin Nước Chúa đến, ý Ngài được nên.
Jesús nuestra Rey, venga Tu reino!
🙏💗🍞🍷👑🌅🌇
With anticipation and joy,
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