I think those are drawing near to heaven who in this life find that they need men less and love men more. And to like more in being loved without being needed. For where agape is there, in some degree, is heaven.
Natural loves can become eternal only insofar as they’ve allowed themselves to be taken into the eternity of agape, and this always involves a sort of death.
What a find! Audio recordings of C.S. Lewis from 1958 reading his own work.
The quotes above come from the final chapter on charity and agape love.
I find joy in these words. Kinship permeates in hearing another believer express the truth of dying to the desire to being needed resulting in more love.
Heaven draws near the more we love and allow ourselves to be loved.
About this time last Saturday, I was sitting in the stands of Washington-Grizzly Stadium on the campus of the University of Montana in Missoula waiting for the Zootown Challenge 5k to start. Not too sure how the race would go due to fighting off altitude sickness the last 18 hours, I was anxious to get moving.
When they separated the competitors based on expected pace, I ended up standing by this guy, one of several competitors wearing the same shirt.
I asked, “Tell me about the shirt so many of you are wearing. Are you part of a team?”
“No,” he smiled. “We’re just all here to remember my brother, the guy on our shirts. He died last year. He ran this race the first two years it was put on, so we’re all here to honor him.”
“That’s really amazing. There are a lot of you. How many are there?”
“54. And he’s laughing right now. This is something I never do.”
We chuckled at that thought and ended the short chat with encouragement. Basically, no matter what, we’re going to get this done. The line started moving, and we eventually separated. I passed him once on the course with a nod to keep moving.
Nothing was said about how his brother died. A year later, that wasn’t important to share in a random conversation with a stranger. What was most clear was the brother left behind loved his lost brother and was doing things now because of what he saw and remembers. I’m guessing being in that stadium and running the course was a way for him to say, “I haven’t forgotten you. Odd to say, but I love you probably now more than ever.”
This was fresh in my mind as I had just read these words from Henri Nouwen’s book Life of the Beloved:
I am called to trust that life is a preparation for death as a final act of giving…If love is, indeed, stronger than death, then death has the potential to deepen and strengthen the bonds of love. It was only after Jesus had left his disciples that they were able to grasp what he truly meant to them. But isn’t that true for all who die in love? (Chapter 8, “Given”)
Last March I posted a blog referencing Makoto Fujimura. He’s become a staple for me to follow-podcast episodes, videos, books, etc. A few months ago I started reading his book Silence and Beauty, where he goes in depth to analyze the book I mentioned in the previous blog post and its place in Japanese art and history. I finished reading it on a plane ride Saturday.
I’m glad I took my time reading this book. The slower read allowed for his words and thoughts to breathe and to sink. What I enjoyed most about this form of Fujimura’s art was how he chose to build toward the ending. His final chapter, Mission Beyond the Waves, overflowed with images and challenges that perfectly summarized his message of silence and beauty.
The image that most caught my attention was his imagery and symbolism of falling cherry blossoms. “In Japan of old, cherry blossoms are considered most beautiful when they are falling.” He penned that following this quote by former archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams:
Our voyages are all about loss and death. At the moment of our death, which could be any moment, how is my mortality to be made fruitful in the life of another? How may my loss and my suffering become a Word to others? The ultimate question that any of us, or any art, can ask is this: “How may I die generously?”
Meditation on Death
If indeed cherry blossoms are most beautiful when they fall, they are most beautiful when they are broken and completely sacrificed. Fujimura’s challenge is for us all to be generous. Generosity in our faith and in our acts “can be a sacramental act to bridge the divide and brokenness created in society.”
What generous act are you prompted to complete? How can your faith assist you? What beauty is coming when you offer your creations?
The whole purpose of the gathering of the church is to prepare people for their encounters with death…Everything we do runs in the opposite direction. It’s all in the direction of triumphalism. It’s all in the direction of how great life can be if we get our act together or follow this leader.
Mike Cosper is referring to the writings of another leader. It richly resignates with me. It seems like another way to paint the picture of living for the kingdom of heaven, not building treasures here, etc.
In some odd way this thought validates what I’ve often told people. If I had a choice between participating in a wedding or a funeral, hands down I pick a funeral. Whatever you call it, life celebration/memorial service/funeral, everyone comes with a reality check in their minds and souls. So much room exists, so many impactful moments are possible in the days surrounding the passing of a loved one. If we are prepared, we don’t miss them, and they have the potential for even deeper joy in our sorrow than we experience in other expected, highly anticipated, and tremendously prepared for joyful life moments.
How’s your church preparing you for death? Probably not a question you’ve ever asked. Which probably indicates it’s worth answering.
Some are good. We find out things that the person did that mattered, that impacted, that altered courses, that showered generosity without attention. We read things they wrote, produced, created that uncover meaning. The world is blessed by unexpected surprise.
Some aren’t good. We find out things that the person did that shocks, that hurts, that damages, that produces unanswerable questions. We hear things they chose, hid, manufactured that defy understanding. The world is grayed by unexplainable bewilderment.
Yesterday I posted thoughts from Bruce Wilkinson’s book A Life God Rewards. Before leaving that, here’s one other quote that could impact your day.
Most of our life happens after our physical death.
That’s “chew worthy.”
Of course, he’s referring to the belief of eternal life. Can’t say I’ve heard anyone put it like this. Gives it fresh reflection.
To make it more clear, he gives six main events of forever life: Life, Death, Destination, Resurrection, Repayment, and Eternity. The thought that this life we know is just a dot on an unending line might bring you joy or fear. Wilkinson’s objective of his book is to help you not wonder or worry about what might await you outside the dot. What you believe and how you live now can give you hope for the rest of “most of your life.”
Lunch took an interesting turn at Chickfila on Friday. For one reason, my Fridays normally don’t involve lunch out, so there’s that. And it was a late lunch, so add that.
But I ordered my lunch and took a seat. Within minutes, two of their employees, also friends of mine, joined me to chat. So not only was my tummy getting full but my soul was also. In our chat, one of them mentioned an opportunity they have coming up that even though it may seem like work actually felt like the opposite. Exact words, “I don’t leave there drained.” When I left the restaurant, I had gotten refreshed with more than Combo #1.
That interaction led me to ask this question that I’m throwing out to you: Am I a Drainer or a Refresher? In my interactions with others, do they leave drained or refreshed? No doubt there are days I know I’m drained, so it’s seems impossible to be a refresher. But is that excusable?
One of the most draining days of Jesus’ life is recorded in Matthew 14. On this day…
…he found out his cousin John the Baptist had been beheaded…
…while trying to find seclusion, he ended up healing many people and feeding five thousand with five loaves and two fishes…
…and ended the day walking on the Sea to rescue his disciples and calming the storm.
My worst day will never match that one. What Jesus models for us is even when we’re drained we can be a refresher. Does that mean we always have to ignore our drained state? Absolutely not. We are not the Son of God. It does mean that it is within our relationship with him to be something to others what only he could be through us.
When I’m drained, I need Refreshers. When I’m drained, may I allow others to refresh me so I avoid being a Drainer.
When others are drained, I need to be a Refresher. When I come across a drained person, may I allow the Holy Spirit to make me a Refresher.
Since Saturday I’ve had quite a few interactions with people giving me reason to ponder this question: How is it some people die happy and others don’t?
I say since Saturday because that’s the day some of our church family gathered to remember the life of Buna Brannon. She lived a full life. And I’m not just referring to her age of 84. Buna lived a full life because she chose to live it to its fullest.
By the time I met Mrs. Buna, she was already retired, 76 years of age. Nothing kept her down. Not illness. Not emotions. Not people. She made a choice to live life how she wanted, not how others wanted. And the foundation of that choice was her faith, how she understood God wanted her to live. And because of that faith, she lived happily, joyfully, actively, and extremely generously. And that’s also how she died. Until days before her living was done, she gave to others and thought of others which brought her joy, peace, and purpose. She had lived life in such a way that she was more than ready to leave it as she lived it.
However you live is probably how you’re going to die. It’s sad to watch people live unlike how they probably want to die. Angry. Depressed. Judging. Discontent. Proud. Buna made the choice to live with joy, with hard work, with purpose, and with love. And that’s what everyone will remember about her. She died how she lived.
If you want to die happily, live happily.
If you want to die sacrificially, live sacrificially.
Yesterday, we had a memorial service for a longstanding, faithful member of First Baptist. The service, which included selections of their favorite worship songs, was planned by him and his wife. After the service, his wife said, in thanking me for my part in the service, “That’s just what I needed. I hope those songs were okay, but they meant something to us.”
To be frank, who cares if people attending a memorial service have any offense to service choices. They mean something to you; that’s why you plan them ahead of time so they reveal what’s important, your values, your life.
I’ve blogged about this before, but it begs repeating. If you haven’t done this already, it’s time to think about helping your family out by planning your memorial service. That might mean not having one. It might mean a small gathering at a graveside. It might be a traditional church service. Whatever it might look like it in your head, that’s a problem. It’s only in your head. Speak it. Write it. Plan it.
My father died in 1980. I was 12. I can tell you off the top of my head two of the song selections, vocalists who sang, and who the two preachers were. Why? Because they were amazing? Because they are in a recording I’ve listened to? Nope. It’s because I knew that my dad planned it. Those songs, those singers, those speakers were his choosing.
Do everyone a favor. Get this done. Help them be able to say after your service, “That’s just what I needed.”
John Gregory 