“Most men need patience to die, but a saint who understands what death admits him to should rather need patience to live. I think he should often look out and listen on a deathbed for his Lord’s coming; and when he receives the news of his approaching change he should say, ‘The voice of my beloved! behold, He cometh leaping over the mountains, skipping upon the hills’ (Song of Solomon 2:8).” JOHN FLAVEL
I came across this quote today and it seemed timely because, thought I don’t mean to be alarming, I realized that I’ve moved, somewhere in the last year or so, from fearing death to rather looking forward to it. I’m hoping that’s not an oddity, but some sort of maturity. Maybe it’s not the happiest thought with which to start the new blog – or maybe it is, depending on your perspective.
But actually it’s not the implication about dying that caught my eye. The “patience to live” bit reached out to grab me: that’s what I might need to be praying for: patience to live. Not to exist, with dull resignation, but to really live.
The contours of my life are rather more like the Appalachians than the Alps. My crises are more common than I usually allow myself to confess. And yet, I’m in the midst of the “repeated experimental proof of the Lord’s power and goodness to save” that John Newton said we must go through a thousand times as we struggle for assurance. Maybe everyone doesn’t have to go through that: maybe its just me and John. None-the-less, here I am.
In the midst of my thousand wrestling matches, there are things that matter to me: art, music, books, community, creational goodness in all its forms… There are lots of things to be explored here: few of them as introspective as the topic of this first post. But, it seemed good to start where I am, with who I am. And now on with the experimental proof.
On, with patience.
Some very profound thoughts about life and death. You’ve quoted some of my favorites. If you are interested in various quotes & brief reflections of Scripture, check out my church log -
Thanks for being my first comment! Be well.
I appreciate that you use the term death and not “passed away”. Death is a terrible thing and it is painful for those who will miss those that leave them behind. When attending funerals (I just did this past Saturday) I think sometimes death is overlooked and we get a sense that the person has just passed on to the next phase in life. Or we should be happy that they are present with the Lord. But, I think in one sense that is true we are assured that we will be together again and that they aren’t suffering any longer, but it sure does hurt to not have that person there anymore. I’ve also know that this most certainly isn’t the hope for people that did not have faith in our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I talked to one of our pastors at a funeral of a young lady who grew up in a family that had nothing to do with the church at all. And he didn’t know what to say in terms of the questions that can arise about “Did she go to heaven?” and questions like that. I told him, one thing is for sure though, if you could ask her right now, what she would want told to people she knows, is… Like the story of the Rich Man and Lazarus:
Luke 16:17-28
27″He answered, ‘Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my father’s house, 28for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’
Having said all that, I do long for heaven, and to be rid of this sin and the battle that continues to weigh me down. To be rid of death and the pain that it causes others. To experience love and a grand reunion of the saints that have gone on before us, and most of all to praise God with tears of gratefulness for giving Grace to a wretch like me.
Grace and Peace,
Chris
Coram Deo!!!
I wrestle with the fearing and looking forward–before kids, I looked forward–not in the morbid sense, but in the hopeful sense. Death is something I think a lot about as a mom–not wanting to be without my kids, not wanting them to be without me.
With my daughter’s birth, fear of death took over, but with my son’s birth, I feel a bit more of the “patience to live.” I have two glorious reasons to live in this world, teaching my children to love God with all their hearts, but yet, heaven looks good–especially when the three year old throws a tantrum and the 3 month old won’t sleep while I try to get the laundry done! (: Ordinary things, ordinary days are what I love and live for, yet they’re also the things that make me wish for heaven!