Dear Family and Friends,
At our Christmas Eve service last night we sang a carol I
was unfamiliar with, “Where Shepherds Lately Knelt.” The last verse of this song really spoke to
me. It goes like this:
“Can I, will I forget
how love was born, and
burned
its way into my heart
unasked, unforced, unearned,
to die, to live, and
not alone for me,
to die, to live, and not alone for me?”
Even more
specifically, I have been reflecting on the paradoxical words “to die, to
live.”
Christians
celebrate Christmas so that we will never forget how love was born, the night God
came to earth in the form of a newborn babe lying in a manger. While love may have been born that night,
love was put to the ultimate test when Jesus willingly gave His life, in the
most inhumane, excruciating manner, so that we could live a life reconciled to
God. John 15:13 puts it this way: “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for
one’s friends.” Jesus loved us so much that He died—so we might live as people
of faith and hope who have the opportunity to get to know God in a most
personal and life-giving way.
The
concept “to die, to live” may have started with Jesus’ death, but it doesn’t
stop there. There are two deaths each of
us must consider. The first is a
spiritual death—a dying to oneself. We
are asked by God to give up the idea of controlling our own lives and destiny,
and realize we belong to Him, and were made to be in relationship with
Him. The Bible says that because of Him
we live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28). Even common sense should tell us that the air
we breathe, the complex way in which our bodies are formed and function, and
the sleep that renews us each night, are just a few of the multitude of things
required to sustain our lives, and yet which, are totally beyond our own ability
to control. So why do we work so hard to
believe that we have no need for God?
In
C.S. Lewis’ book, The Great Divorce, citizens of Hell are offered a chance to
take a bus trip to Heaven for a day. At
the end of the day’s sightseeing, the tourists are offered the chance to stay
in Heaven, but under one condition. They
must give up control and lordship of their own lives and submit to the
authority of God in their lives. Surprisingly,
most of the tourists prefer to re-board the bus and return to Hell, where they
don’t have to answer to anyone but themselves.
To be reconciled to God through Christ’s death for our sins requires
that we die to self and give up control of our lives and hearts to God. “I” must die, to live.
The
second death required of us is our physical death, whenever that time should
come. While the spiritual dying to self
is not a requirement, but a choice, if we want to have a relationship with God,
the physical dying is required of each and every one of us, whether we believe
in God or not. But the good news is, for
those who have given their lives to God, this second dying also produces life—life
everlasting with God in Heaven. As
someone living with a very serious cancer, I give a lot of thought to this
second death that will be required of me.
When will it come? What will it
feel like? Will it hurt? Will I feel afraid? How will my family handle the grief of losing
me?
When
these thoughts come, I can turn my thoughts to the words of that Christmas Eve
carol. I can remember how love was born
that starry night, and burned its way into my heart, unasked, unforced,
unearned. How Jesus died, that I might
live. How at age 14, I gave my life back
to Him, that I might live a life filled with purpose, and the love and
closeness of God. And how, when that
final dying comes, there lies a life eternal with Him in Heaven that is beyond my
wildest imaginings.
To
die. To live. And not alone for me. The gift of Christmas is for you, too.
Love,
Gabrielle
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