This post is not about theoretical sacrificial death in this life, but about the event ahead of us all. I have a dear friend with a fear of death, and I thought, at her request, I would put some consolidated thoughts on the subject here. Grandious conjectures made for the sake of appearance bear no weight here. This is my honest truth regarding my own death to come.
On the Colbert show, a question he asked many a celebrity was: What do you think happens after we die? Some would wittingly avoid an honest answer; some would state the fool’s response of nothing. In order to know where we are all going, we have to know where we all came from. You, my friend–your origin–is love. You came to earth, not for function, not for failure, not for performance, but for love. This is the one thing from this life that will remain beyond it.
Dwight L. Moody, as he transitioned into his own death, as it was happening, described it as sweet. Those who know Christ have died with smiles on their faces, possessing an appearance of eternal youth. But even without these lofty accessories to death, even when it is filled with waste and stench and suddenness, it is holy.
One thing I have gained here, a lesson I will remember eternally, is my utter dependence on God’s complete and sovereign goodness. I seemingly have fears that exalt themselves above my shared experiences of his faithfulness–reasonable, legitimate fears, and still he outdoes himself; still he leaves me in utter awe at the way he appears, the intimate way he shines.
And even in this life, it’s like he’s right there, face to face with me, forcing me to hold his gaze, forcing my thoughts to stillness by his mere presence. There is a might in his peace. A strength in his humility. Now, where were we? Oh yes, death.
I have read and listened to several near-death experiences, some good, some grimy, some doubtful, some questionable. But the Lord doesn’t leave us wondering, theorizing, or questioning what happens after we die. He tells us explicitly. God the Father shared through Paul, his heavenly appointed disciple:
1 Corinthians Chapter 5: 1For we know that if the earthly tent we live [our bodies] in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands [our future home fashioned by him]. 2 Meanwhile we groan, longing to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, 3 because when we are clothed [in Christ’s righteousness], we will not be found naked.
4 For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. 5 Now the one who has fashioned us for this very purpose is God, who has given us the Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come.
6 Therefore we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord. 7 For we live by faith, not by sight. 8 We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord. 9 So we make it our goal to please him, whether we are at home in the body or away from it. 10 For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each of us may receive what is due us for the things done while in the body, whether good or bad.
Some people say they fear death, when actually it is something else entirely. Perhaps you fear the lack of control that comes with the process of death. Perhaps you fear the unknown, going to places you don’t remember. Perhaps you fear your time of standing before the judgment seat of God? Perhaps you fear what you imagine could possibly be your fate–the worst–the gnashing of teeth and endless, horrible suffering in the flames of hell, separated from God forever.
Or perhaps the work of shame is heavy, and you fear standing before a loving and heavenly father, fully seen, fully known. That’s the kind of thing that can scare the living hell out of you – literally. 1 John 3: 2 Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when Christ appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.
Can you fathom anyone anywhere in all of existence more understanding than God the Father who created you and knows more about this natural world than any of us? Can you imagine anyone more compassionate? More forgiving than the one who already saw you fully at your worst and knew you are of such great value that he chose your life over his own — his holy, his pure, his spotless existence.
Where can you go to be cared for better? To be comforted more deeply and thoroughly? To be seen and healed than the Judge himself. Specifically in the targeted place of your greatest guilt, he becomes your advocate, your defense lawyer–forever securing your unserved decree of NOT GUILTY.
Once, in conversation with God regarding this topic, he reminded me that his nature is unchanging. The abundant kindnesses I have known from him in this life, his extravagant generosity, the unreasonable favor, and unending faithfulness–he questioned me. “Do you think I will change after this life is over? Do you think my character will waver? Do you imagine some worse version of who you have come to know through experience? He was challenging the narratives of him my imagination was entertaining, matched against my years of experiencing his nature, his patience, his kindness, his goodness–the tender honesty of his words.
I was imagining him as my punisher. My keeper of wrongs, my spirit of criticism and fault-finding, my lack of holiness indicator, my tolerator. I am–as I imagine many are–so easily given to believing my punishability, my exclusion, my withholding, my removal, my de-valuing. That any of those notions in my direction, with full knowledge of who I am, is right, is correct, is justified, and is what is due me. Some people reading this may actually agree with this deduction. But the Lord keeps challenging me; maybe that’s not what he’s like, maybe that’s not who he is.
When I wrote my book, My First Forty, I felt at his leading; he led me through my life and challenged me that my life was worth celebrating, not regretting, not hating, not wishing it were different or that I was better; he challenged my gladness over my life, my positivity, my gratefulness for what was and what has been, what we’ve shared, what I’ve learned, and how I’ve come to know him.
John 3: 16 For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.
Your fears may be right; they may be correct, may be true – if you live here and now or in the afterlife without Christ. There is no passive option. There is no such thing as borderline complacency or delayed ignorance. You are only ever in one of two places: complete surrender under the Lordship of Christ, through faith in the saving power of his death and resurrection, or you stand in blindness at enmity with God, having rejected him as your savior. There is no neutral posture in death. You are covered in the power of his blood that already became the sacrifice for you in your place, or you are not. Chris himself said in Luke 13, “Repent or perish.”
He has done everything in his power to accept you, but in his love, he still gives you the option of rejecting him. When you reject him, you are rejecting your only true love, your only true home, your only possibility of salvation, your only peace with God.
If you do not have a savior, and you have rejected the Son of God appointed to you, I urge you to flee from the arrogance of your unbelief. Your life cannot be re-lived. The foolish notion of self-salvation, despite popular public opinion, will cause you to miss this chance to live this life shared with him. It’s so much more beautiful this way.
He is able to carry your burdens, answer your questions, and remove bitterness from your heart. Today is a gift, and it’s not a matter of perspective. It is a gift. Period. An opportunity, in his likeness, made in his image, with his heart, with his mind, in the power of his spirit, to allow him to live through you, in union with God. Predictably, most likely in the service of himself and others.
Romans 8: 33 Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. 34 Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. 35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? 36 As it is written: “For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”[j]
37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Death does not separate this union. It no longer possesses any ability to. Of this we remain certain. And in God’s likeness, he talks about a celebration after this life. He talks about how Jesus is getting married. He talks about a wedding. At one point, while on the earth, Jesus said men and women after we die will not be given in marriage any like, but we will be like [not become but be like–there is a difference] the angels. And I tell you what: if you are in Christ, you are already taken; you are already betrothed to the Lamb. He wants you for himself. It may seem like I’m getting off topic here, but I’m not.
After this life, you will comprehend your desired-ness fully. You will comprehend the union you have been invited into with the Holy King more fully. Abiding in his love is God’s directive for this life. He loves you. Actively, right now. His love is tangible, eternal, and you are inseparable from it. In death, this will not change, but your experience of it will be truly and utterly euphoric, without any ability to resist it any longer.
In death, you will return home, into the embrace of love without veil; healed, whole, and dare I say it – happy, rejoicing in this shared existence without end.
