Death and disasters dominate the news, don’t they? We all know that if it bleeds, it leads. We typically have, in addition to the usual accidents and murders, natural disasters, mass shootings, genocide, and war. The murder rate has gone up in nearly all our major cities – including the one I live in. Natural disasters in India claimed nearly 3000 lives last year. The earthquake in Turkey has claimed nearly 50,000 lives. Over 13,000 Ukrainians and as many as 200,000 Russians have been killed or wounded in the current war. And nearly 6 million people have died in the civil war in Congo.
All of the people who died had lives which mattered and should be mourned. But that mourning should not be limited to the lives that have been lost, but also to their souls. We can be sure that the Nigerians bombed in their churches and the Syrians crushed under falling buildings all called to God.
But the Christian has something that no one else can claim, and that is the assurance of eternal life. No matter what you believe, or how fervently, no matter how virtuous your life, or unfair your suffering, only Christ guarantees life after death. Islam does promise eternal life to those who earn it by engaging in jihad, or holy war. Even if one believes the promises of the Koran were true, which I don’t, there’s still no assurance, because what happens if the war you’re fighting isn’t holy after all and God doesn’t approve? And being killed in a natural disaster never qualifies. Hindus and Buddhists believe in reincarnation, which basically say, “what goes around comes around,” and you get what you deserve. From the very dawn of humanity death has been both an enemy and a mystery, and every religion down the entire long history of the world has tried to deny or control or escape or at the very least explain it.
But all of our frantic attempts are turned upside down when we come to the foot of the cross. Greater even than the mystery of death itself is the electric and powerful reality of Jesus Christ. Nowhere is the mystery more compelling than in the fact that instead of denying nor escaping death, Jesus faced it, embraced it, and defeated it.
There is a paradox in this death. Just a few verses earlier the bystanders heard Him say, “My God! My God! Why have You forsaken Me?” Where are the trust and commitment and confidence that Jesus displayed throughout the rest of his life, where are the trust and commitment and confidence with which he calls us to face our own futures?
What are you most afraid of in this world? Is it snakes or spiders, or height or darkness or crowds? Do you suffer from claustrophobia or acrophobia or - my favorite - luposlippophobia, which is the fear of being chased by wolves around a newly waxed kitchen floor in your stocking feet? If you find yourself, like Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark, being tossed into a pit of snakes, your most gut-wrenching, heart-stopping fear, you can hardly be blamed for losing it for a second.
Jesus had never in his life been alone before. Not alone in the sense that you and I know alone-ness. Have you ever experienced the sense of being intimately connected with God? To have that sure knowledge of a strong and loving presence surrounding you? Imagine spending your entire life rooted and anchored and fed by that power source and then suddenly - all of an instant - having it ripped away.
This is the horror that Jesus had anticipated the night before, in the garden. This is the agony that Jesus feared. Not the pain of the nails and the whips and the thorns, as horrible as they would be. Not the shame of being stripped and mocked and spat upon. Not the loneliness of being abandoned by his friends and followers. But the ripping away of the very ground of his being, the very splitting apart of his soul. This is what our sins cost Jesus, this separation from his very self, this loss of God.
But now, here in this word from the cross, His work finished, Jesus is showing us how to die. He is showing us how to “live by faith, rather than by sight.” [2 Cor 5:7] He is demonstrating for us in the most dramatic and moving way possible that “perfect love” does, indeed, “cast out fear,” [1 Jn 4:18] even when what you fear most is exactly what is happening to you.
Let’s talk a little about death. What is it, why do we fear it, how have we tried to deal with it?
Death is an enemy. No question. Now, some things are worse than death, and some causes are worth dying for. Patrick Henry preferred death to life without liberty; others have chosen death over dishonor or pain. The church is built on the witness of people who preferred death to denial of Jesus Christ. Death is not the greatest enemy. But it is “...the last enemy [to] be destroyed.” [I Cor 15:25] And even though we know what Jesus has done, we find it hard to live as though we believed it.
Death is a very real part of the human experience. People - especially in this age - do not like to think about death as a reality. Mostly we think about it superficially when we think about it at all. We dress up our dead and say how natural they look. It’s hard to face the thought of the finality of mortal relationships as we now know them, of the separation, and of the struggle it often takes to, as Shakespeare put it, “shuffle off this mortal coil.” Euphemisms are very comforting in times like these.
One of the ways in which Americans in our culture cope with death is by seeking out stories of “near death experience.” Even Christians are tempted by some of these accounts. But nothing that contradicts Scripture can be trusted. In the past the ‘near death experiences’ that were reported seemed to be horror filled and frightening. That is back in the days when people actually believed in sin, when people did not have a sense of entitlement before a just God. But nowadays the images are comforting, welcoming, glowing; the message to atheist and believer alike is: “There is nothing to fear but fear itself.” Well, I’m sorry to have to burst your bubble. Because there is something to fear.
For one thing almost everyone fears the unknown, to one degree or another. If I were going to take a trip to Saudi Arabia tomorrow, with all expenses paid, and all possible needs cared for, I would still be apprehensive - simply because I’ve never been there before, and it is going to be strange beyond imagining. Will they all really speak English? Will I like the food? And I really don’t like hot weather! Come to think of it, I’m not actually sure I want to go to Saudi Arabia. It’s not a great place for women.
But Christians, thanks be to God, not only have a tour guide, and a translator, and hotel reservations, but all of the bills have been prepaid. Including gratuities. The climate is guaranteed, the activities director has to be seen to be believed, and the restaurants all serve 4-star manna. Jesus has removed all the negatives about this trip into the unknown.
How do we know we can trust the advertisements, this guide? The marketplace is crowded with competing travel planners. “Best rates” are to be had over here. “Luxury accommodations!” cries another vendor. “Educational - or adventurous - or ecologically friendly” - claim others.
How do we choose? Who can we trust?
We can trust God’s Word. It is the cosmic equivalent of the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval, or Consumer Reports. Laboratory-tested by trained scientists, the advertisers' claims have been verified beyond doubt. And one unlikely source of wisdom here is the pagan prophet Balaam, who said, “Let me die the death of the righteous, and let my last end be like his.” [Num 23:10]
I think it was John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, who said, “Our people die well!” There are such things as near-death conversions. But don’t count on having the time - or the inclination - to make a last-minute U-turn on the highway of life. If you haven’t practiced, you may not be able to make it. You may not even think of it! How likely would you be to call upon someone you’ve ignored all your life when you find yourself neck deep in cobras?
The time to start is now, and the example to follow is Christ’s. Jesus died as he had lived.
First, Jesus lived openly before God. There were no hidden agendas, no reservations in his life. Jesus was limited in many of the same ways we are: in physical strength, in material resources, in social status, in subjection to his human parents, even in being tempted by unlawful choices. But in other ways he was not. He was not limited in his commitment to God, and he was not limited in his connection to God. Which makes us ask, “Is it even possible for us imperfect, sinful human beings to live perfectly openly before the heavenly Father?” It can be hard to 'open up' what we do not even see or understand: our own hearts. We pray with David, “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my thoughts. See if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. [Ps 139:23-24]
Perhaps we cannot be as open before God as Jesus was. But we can want to be open, want to live without secrets, want God to show us who we really are. Because secrets kill the soul. Because every sin we cling to, every secret flaw that we cannot admit to, is like a layer of insulation between ourselves and God. But when we are honest with ourselves and God we are forgiven and cleansed, and God draws us closer.
Second, Jesus lived obediently before God. Obedience goes along with openness. As soon as we are open with ourselves about ourselves, we discover that to will anything apart from God’s will is counter-productive! We start to see things as God sees them, and to want what he wants. Even when our weaknesses pull us in the wrong direction, our attitude towards God recognizes that his will is better than ours. We become willing to say, along with Jesus, “not what I want but what you want.” [Mt 26:39]
But is it even possible for us imperfect, sinful human beings to live perfectly obediently before the heavenly Father? Before we dismiss this obvious impossibility, saying “Of course not!” we should at least consider what is involved in the question. Of course we can never be perfectly obedient; even if our wills were pure, our under-standing would be limited (and vice versa), but we can want to, and we can ask God to give us the grace and the faith and the longing to follow him. That’s what Paul tells us to want in his letter to the Romans: “Present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God... Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God - what is good and acceptable and perfect.” [Ro 12:1-2] Offer yourself - and let Jesus handle the delivery.
We will die as we have lived. Jesus died trusting the Father, because he had trusted him all of his life. When the moment of crisis came, and the terror that he had begged to be spared became a bitter and painful reality, the habit of a lifetime took over. So Jesus was able to offer himself - his fear, his pain, his momentary doubt - to the one he had walked with since the creation of the world.
We too can follow Jesus in this. If you have trusted Jesus, and been open with God, and obedient to God, then when the moment of crisis comes, it will be natural to say “I trust you with this piece, too. I believe that you are able to keep me from falling, and that you will bring me through this dark, dirty alley with the ugly name of Death - which frightens so many people into paralysis or panic - into the broad, green expanse of eternal life.”
That last, final trip is too important to leave to chance. Choosing your guide - not to mention your destination - should rest on solid evidence, and trustworthy accounts, and be guaranteed, bonded and insured. Check the records, check the claims. Talk to people who’ve been there. Oh - there’s only one person who’s ever made the round trip, who can tell us about it? And his name is Jesus? Well, then - I guess there’s no choice at all, is there. He is the only way. And His is the only way. Let us likewise commit our spirits into the hands of the one, the true, the only God.
