November 1, 2014

*** I wrote this to Mom and Dad on November 1, 2014--a year ago. I didn't think I'd be alive for that Thanksgiving. Here it is a year later, and still weak, I am looking at another Thanksgiving and even Christmas and next year. 

The meaning of resurrection to a dying person.

It means that there is no “death.” I step from life to life. I step from union with him to greater union with him.

Resurrection means that I will be like him. Physically, I will be like him. This body will be resurrected—not just resuscitated, but resurrected. New creation. Better, glorious, like his body (Phil. 3:21). Spiritually, I will be like him, perfect. Once again renewed and bearing the image of God (Col. 3:10), I will reflect him! Like a harmony, like to like, the perfect intimacy of similarity.

Resurrection means I love him for his power. Victor. Conqueror over all of my enemies, sin, shame, decay, disease, forces of death that rip at my body now.

Resurrection means I love him because he has gone before me. He has risen for me; I am caught up with him. There is no fear, because he has gone before me, he is preparing a place for me. Through suffering, in this life, I know him. I trust him. And he—this Savior, this Lover—has gone before me! For me! He has paved the way, prepared it!

Resurrection means I still engage with life here. It means I strive to make sure all are prepared to meet eternity, the eternal continuation of life. It means that this world, too, will be renewed, restored. The resurrection impacts here and now. The resurrection took place on this earth, in time and space. We seek to bring his kingdom on earth, hints of the future shalom because the new has already dawned and is tinging all this blood-red world of death with the blood-red dawn of new life.

Resurrection means that I need have no fear for the remaining life. Life can bring more fear than death. What does the road to dying look like? What will it bring? More pain, weakness, humiliation, the things I fear? But he has proven greater than all of these, and he—the Loving God!—holds the keys. Because of his death and resurrection, I am his and my life and moments are his and in his care. Because of his resurrection, I know this will all lead to an eternal life with him whose glories far surpass.

I'm ready to go. But I know what Paul says, "It is far better to depart and be with Christ, but for your sake I will remain here in the body." There is such a tension. Resurrection tension. Now and already, not yet tension.

Fight for life… Life in this world, this created world is good—the resurrection happened in time and space on this world. It broke in. Life in this world is valuable as his image bearers, commissioned with a mission to subdue and rule the earth and bear his image and his witness. Resurrection life speaks of a renewal of that mission, that purpose, of image bearing in this realm as we are restored to his image. God created me for here and now—good. For November 1, 2014—good. Seeking health is good, restorative.

But… not yet. This world is broken. Pain, suffering. Death is yet to be thrown into the lake of fire, and it eats at my bones, joints, muscles. We are pilgrims. We have not reached consummation. There is eternal life, there is life in the presence of the one who is Life himself. We long to depart. The hope of glory.

We are stretched on this tension point—the fight for life here, the hope of glory.

Fight for life? Who to fight? What to fight? How to fight? Still fight? This was kind of the question I was asking a few weeks ago when I emailed about Paul’s thorn. He asked three times. The response was no. Was it an audible voice? Was it just three times of concentrated petition and the lack of healing, the silence, the unanswered prayer the Lord’s answer? How did Paul know the answer was “no”?

This life is his sphere too—the sphere of the One who is Life, who conquered death. This forever-life Victor stepped with his gloried feet on this earth. I picture the grass greener underneath his feet, breathing life.

I do know I long to go to be with him. And not just because I want to escape from pain. I want to go to be with him. I have tasted, just barely tasted, the joys of his presence, his companionship, his perfection. Oh! I want to taste that more fully. I want to be with him.

who died for us so that whether we are awake or asleep we might live with him. 1 Thes 5:10

God is faithful, by whom you were called into the fellowship of his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. 1 Cor. 1:8-9

But I also know my life is not my own. My death is not my own. My days and moments are not my own. He has bought that. It is not my own to ask to die before his timing. It is not my own to decide how many days I will or will not live. It is not my own to decide the “quality” of life that I will have. It is not my own to decide “how” to live life, whether going to doctors and doctors, or whether in “weakness” or in “strength.” It is his. And it is a gift of love, for his glory. He created me—will he not know best the desires of my heart and what will ultimately satisfy them? I gulp thirstily at his fountain, the tastes I have had of his sweet presence. I trust he knows what I need for my fullness of joy—fullness of joy. This is what he is planning for me, crafting for me, nothing more, nothing less. He told me that. He, the God of heaven himself, the one who has all power over death and hades and everything, told me he is working for my fullness of joy!! Oh! For me! What love! Him! It could be joy yet on this side of the Jordan. I kind of think it is the fullness of joy for his presence. I am here, at this moment in 2014, November 1, because my fullness of joy in his shining presence will not be complete yet. I do not know whether that will come through one more month here; I do not know if that will be twenty years of pain and weakness; I do not know if that will be physical healing soon and then a life of working again or missionary service. I still pray for him to send me to the dark areas if he returns my strength. He knows. And not only knows, but is designing each moment for my good, for his glory. I questioned that after returning from Honduras. Only by his gift, I am not questioning that now.

We are all dying from our very first gasp out of our mother’s womb. I just have been given the gift of seeing the fleetingess of life. The fight for life is not just about the value of life. It is about Lordship. Value of life can just be humanistic; one can well argue for the quality of life for the value of life. Image of God. But I acknowledge he is Lord over every breath, setting my times and places.