Living in the Shadow of Death

I watched as one of our girls gently, contentedly stroked our dog's neck, snuggling her face deeply into soft white fur. I've seen this before. I've done this before. And I've watched as we all said goodbye, sometimes forever, in this way to our pets. For now, this is only a temporary parting, a see you later, until our daughter returns from the weekend. But as I watched this scene, I was struck by the notion that one day, most likely, we will curl up next to this dog, our Sweet Luci Bleu, and we will say goodbye. It will happen, we hope, many many years from now, but as we kneel next to her fragile, old body, it will seem as though it happened in the blink of an eye. Time passes far too quickly, and we live it in the shadow of death.

How often do we stop to think about death? When someone "too young" passes, or someone close to us leaves? Maybe when we hear the words The tests show something abnormal. Perhaps it sounds morbid, but I think we don't pay enough attention to death. Even as we sit across from the attorney drafting a will or assign a beneficiary for the AD&D payout at our new job, are we really contemplating death or stuff? the circumstances under which we will leave this earth, when and who we will leave behind, or the who-gets-what of it all? But death is all around us, literally and metaphorically: the death of an animal, the death of a relationship; the cruel death of many of my houseplants, the death of an era. Every day, we walk in its shadow, knowing it will happen to all of us! and never really stop to give it the consideration it deserves.

Of course, there is the Where do I go when I die? the Am I prepared to face the Creator? Those are the questions we all need to answer; and, as a believer in the Divine Creator and in Jesus Christ who, Himself, died that I might live eternally in His presence, I pray that all would be prepared to face the Creator. But there is another, earthly, here and now aspect of death: the living in its shadow thing. How do we live --I mean really live-- knowing we don't know? knowing there's been none of our friends or family returned from beyond death's encumbrance to tell us what to expect? knowing it could happen at any moment? knowing it has happened to those we miss and love? knowing even pets and houseplants can't escape it? knowing even our employer is thinking about it when we are not? How do we live with that sort of threat?

All I can offer is my personal answer: Jesus. Yes, you probably say I'm double-dipping on this one; He is the One who saves us from death and He is the One who allows us to live ten-toes-down, all in, 100%, with joy unspeakable and peace unfathomable! He is the One who is with His people as we go through death-darkened ravines, valleys overcast with death's foreboding shadow --and let's not kid ourselves, in this world, that is Every.Single.Day. It is knowing that because of Jesus, shadows are just that (Ever been harmed by a shadow?) and valleys are just places that exist because mountains exist. The shadow of death that we live in is only for this time, a time that is but a vapor; but the life abundantly in Jesus is for all of eternity, something our finite minds can't even begin to comprehend, with blessing and glory far greater than anything our imaginations can dream up.

So, I encourage you today. Take time to think about death. Think about where you stand on the issue --and it is an issue. Are you prepared for what comes after? and does your means of preparation allow you to live life to the fullest even today, even in its shadow?

For Life

One of the most helpful bits of advice I received with regard to managing and motivating a workforce was how to form an appeal. The abridged version is this: people have different reasons for following a directive. Some will do it out of a sense of pride in the company or the team; some will comply because they respect you, the boss, and seek to please you; some will only follow if they perceive personal gain. If you, as a supervisor can take to time to find what motivates them, you can succeed in getting them to do as you ask. Pretty good advice if you think about it.

The other day, I came across a "souvenir" from my grandmother's grammar school. Just below the date it reads: Not for school but for life we learn. Motivation. In this case, it's not about simply getting passing grades or making it to the end of a semester or the next twelve years; it is for life --my life-- I choose to learn. I'll confess, that's not exactly how I viewed my tenure in elementary school or high school, for that matter. I lived from test to test or paper to paper; scholastically, what happened in between was of little consequence to me. I just wanted a passing grade; learning was not my motivation (I was a box-checker even then). 

But I have come to realize just how foolish an approach that was. So often I have rued the days I did not pay attention in Mr. Walton's Christian Perspectives class or Miss Williamson's World History class. Learning means something, and it means something to life --mine as well as the lives of those around me. Getting a grade, even holding a diploma in my hands is a hollow victory if I can't recite one useful piece of information or process and apply what I have learned.

Is learning something we should merely do for ourselves? Of course not, but in order to effectively convince anyone of anything, we have to first believe it, know it, and be committed to learning as much as we can about what it is and why we believe it. We need to learn in order to benefit others. In becoming who God has called us to be, in giving our best effort, in stretching and growing as human beings, we elevate the entire order. We inspire others to achieve, we lead others to know difficult things can be possible, we share our lessons with others in the hopes they will break our records and outdo our performance, and we construct a springboard with our lives from which others may launch to greater heights and far into the future.

And, with regard to souvenirs, most of us carry a camera with us wherever we go. We commemorate our lunches, for Pete's sake! Why? Hopefully, we do it to remind ourselves not that we ate, but what the journey to fullness looked like, tasted like. What good is knowing that we ate --our bellies should tell us as much; but it's the knowing what we ate and with whom that should be worth remembering. That's what makes life --the savoring, the experiencing, the odyssey.

We are individuals but we are not islands. Our actions matter. Our inaction matters. It is for life we learn --our life, the lives of those around us, and the perpetuity of humanity.