Black and Light
"Since, therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery" (Heb. 2:14-15).
The fear of death is not my greatest fear. I do, however, struggle with fear. I struggle with finiteness. I struggle with the groans of this broken world--my friend who cuts, the domestic violence upstairs, the starving children in Africa, the countless trafficked, the friend with cancer, the one who wakes up every day unable to feel her leg, the woman who wakes up knowing it is another day without her child she lost in a miscarriage..... I share with their flesh and blood. I share their griefs as well. And I fear my temptation to protect myself, to close my heart to their griefs. I grieve over what I see in my own heart, the fear, pride, hunger for control, lack of love and generosity, self-pity.... This is what I fear, not death per se.
But all that I fear--this is death. Cutting is death. Violence is death. Evil is death. Sin and self-centeredness is death. Evil, sin, violence-- it is a sinking into self, self-protection, self-love, self-interest, self-pity. The soul shrinks, curls up, shrivels. It implodes on self, a black hole... and wreaks death in the whole cosmos. Individual sin and death takes cosmic proportions, perpetuated and enhanced by the devil. I do not think "death" refers to the physical act of dying alone (although the context does mention flesh and blood, and there is a very, very real physical aspect to it, but we live in a spiritual-physical world). I think it includes the evil, violence, and sin we encounter every day, that springs from dead hearts and dying hearts, or hearts tempted to still choose the things of death.
The passage states, "he himself likewise partook of the same things...." The Creator became subject to creation. The All-Powerful became weak. The Living One who is Life himself tasted death. The Healer died. The Pure one bore shame. The Lord of Hosts was hauled off by soldiers. The Lord our Righteous become sin. He knows my finiteness, my weakness, my shame, my rejection, my physical hurts--and drank them to the dregs, far deeper than I will ever have to drink.
Hebrews continues, "...and deliver all those...." We are no longer dead. Our hearts are made new. They beat, they expand, they surge to bring life with his life, his hope, his passion, his love. We are living creatures in a world of death, living with the Life, the life of Christ, in us. We are free--free from fear. Free with a new life. Does it sound too good to be true? Does it sound too abstract? Too spiritual? Too eternal-life-not-now?
We were in lifelong slavery. We are now free. This means that it is free for this life, as well as the life to come. It was accomplished on the cross when he died, when we died with him. We have new life, new courage, new freedom, new hearts--now. But more yet to come.
"...through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery..." What a sentence. The gavel fell--lifelong slavery. Fear kept us in slavery. We feared shame. Being known. Our finiteness. Disasters we could not control. Rejection. Loss of comfort. Loss of control. Loss of power. Being trampled over. Loss of love. Loss of life. Loss of joy and happiness. So, we vowed to do whatever we could to secure those for ourselves; pitted ourselves against others; and fear wound us up in shrinking black holes of un-satiating death. Our efforts were also pointless, finite, only increasing the fear.
The Light stepped in in his glorious radiance of the Image of God, in his power and love. He who sustains all things in life by his powerful word, who energizes, pushes out instead of in, the fullness who fills all things (Heb. 1:3; Eph. 1:23). Life. Fullness. Instead of black confusion and greedily sinking in and collapsing. He stepped in, and saved us. Gave. Gave to the fullest. This is our God.
Sustained in him, we can let go, stop sinking into our black stench of fear. We can love and give, filled with him. He is acceptance, peace, joy, love, life, perseverance... He secures us, secures all, so we can let go and live. We are free. No longer slaves. No longer dead, dull, dying, closing in on ourselves, no longer slaves to cutting and death, hope-filled to be free from cancer, joy-expectant to be reunited with lost ones. He has freed us--Christ, Christ, Christ, our radiance of Light, the radiance of God, the radiance of hope in a black, black world. Light!
The fear of death is not my greatest fear. I do, however, struggle with fear. I struggle with finiteness. I struggle with the groans of this broken world--my friend who cuts, the domestic violence upstairs, the starving children in Africa, the countless trafficked, the friend with cancer, the one who wakes up every day unable to feel her leg, the woman who wakes up knowing it is another day without her child she lost in a miscarriage..... I share with their flesh and blood. I share their griefs as well. And I fear my temptation to protect myself, to close my heart to their griefs. I grieve over what I see in my own heart, the fear, pride, hunger for control, lack of love and generosity, self-pity.... This is what I fear, not death per se.
But all that I fear--this is death. Cutting is death. Violence is death. Evil is death. Sin and self-centeredness is death. Evil, sin, violence-- it is a sinking into self, self-protection, self-love, self-interest, self-pity. The soul shrinks, curls up, shrivels. It implodes on self, a black hole... and wreaks death in the whole cosmos. Individual sin and death takes cosmic proportions, perpetuated and enhanced by the devil. I do not think "death" refers to the physical act of dying alone (although the context does mention flesh and blood, and there is a very, very real physical aspect to it, but we live in a spiritual-physical world). I think it includes the evil, violence, and sin we encounter every day, that springs from dead hearts and dying hearts, or hearts tempted to still choose the things of death.
The passage states, "he himself likewise partook of the same things...." The Creator became subject to creation. The All-Powerful became weak. The Living One who is Life himself tasted death. The Healer died. The Pure one bore shame. The Lord of Hosts was hauled off by soldiers. The Lord our Righteous become sin. He knows my finiteness, my weakness, my shame, my rejection, my physical hurts--and drank them to the dregs, far deeper than I will ever have to drink.
Hebrews continues, "...and deliver all those...." We are no longer dead. Our hearts are made new. They beat, they expand, they surge to bring life with his life, his hope, his passion, his love. We are living creatures in a world of death, living with the Life, the life of Christ, in us. We are free--free from fear. Free with a new life. Does it sound too good to be true? Does it sound too abstract? Too spiritual? Too eternal-life-not-now?
We were in lifelong slavery. We are now free. This means that it is free for this life, as well as the life to come. It was accomplished on the cross when he died, when we died with him. We have new life, new courage, new freedom, new hearts--now. But more yet to come.
"...through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery..." What a sentence. The gavel fell--lifelong slavery. Fear kept us in slavery. We feared shame. Being known. Our finiteness. Disasters we could not control. Rejection. Loss of comfort. Loss of control. Loss of power. Being trampled over. Loss of love. Loss of life. Loss of joy and happiness. So, we vowed to do whatever we could to secure those for ourselves; pitted ourselves against others; and fear wound us up in shrinking black holes of un-satiating death. Our efforts were also pointless, finite, only increasing the fear.
The Light stepped in in his glorious radiance of the Image of God, in his power and love. He who sustains all things in life by his powerful word, who energizes, pushes out instead of in, the fullness who fills all things (Heb. 1:3; Eph. 1:23). Life. Fullness. Instead of black confusion and greedily sinking in and collapsing. He stepped in, and saved us. Gave. Gave to the fullest. This is our God.
Sustained in him, we can let go, stop sinking into our black stench of fear. We can love and give, filled with him. He is acceptance, peace, joy, love, life, perseverance... He secures us, secures all, so we can let go and live. We are free. No longer slaves. No longer dead, dull, dying, closing in on ourselves, no longer slaves to cutting and death, hope-filled to be free from cancer, joy-expectant to be reunited with lost ones. He has freed us--Christ, Christ, Christ, our radiance of Light, the radiance of God, the radiance of hope in a black, black world. Light!
"In
these last days [God] has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir
of all things, through whom also he created the world. He is the radiance of
the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the
universe by the word of his power. After making purification for sins, he sat
down at the right hand of the Majesty on high" (Hebrews 1:1-3).
Yes, Gillian! I give a jubilant cry echoing your sentiments: Free in Christ! Full of life & light! No longer listening to the lies of him who wants to steal, kill and destroy. The sorrows in this world do point to death--not God's original plan of walking side-by-side with us. It's truly amazing that Jesus gave up His life for our freedom. Oh, how that should move us to lives of gratitude!
ReplyDeleteYet another thought also came to me as I read today's blog: Occasionally in the New Testament, death is referred to in the positive: Death to self, unless a seed falls to the ground and dies... I'd like to hear your thoughts on that.
Keep filling up on the love & life of Jesus!
Cyndi
Good thoughts... but even that death is always toward life. He who loses his life will find it; we have died with Christ and raised to new life in Christ; a seed falls to the ground and dies so as to produce a crop of life. We can get into deeper theological waters and ask if Adam would have died had he not sinned--was death ever a part of God's intention for life? Is it a natural part of it? It is a question strongly affected by the different views of covenant of works/grace or dispensations, and lapsarianism... But the tree of life was in the Garden, and the Lord knew that eating it would still allow Adam to live forever (Gen. 3:22). Life! Life! But God works in paradoxical ways, using the very curse to bring blessing. Nothing is to horrible for him to redeem, although that redemption itself may use the darkness, the death--as it did in the life of Christ. We follow him, the Life who died, the Firstborn from the dead.
ReplyDelete