A Lesson from the Dying

A Lesson from the Dying--September 4, 2018

[Jesus said:] "So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will know become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both body and soul in Gehenna." [Matthew 10:26-28]

Day by day, I find increasingly I am indebted to the dying.  

I have much to learn, I find, from people who know that they are nearing the end of this life.  And so I am trying, lately, to pay attention to what they can teach me as they gain clarity from seeing the lesser things fade from concern, and focusing on what remains.  For all the sadness that death's shadow casts on our lives, I find that it also has a way of allowing us to be especially honest, maybe more so than is common for daily life in our culture anymore.  And I have found that people who know they are close to death can be direct about what matters and what things they have found were not worth as much of their time, or their money, or their hate, or their obsession, or their energy, as they had given in their years.

And one of the things in particular I have heard on the lips of people near death--some of whom I had known for years and years, some of whom I crossed paths with only a few times--is that there are indeed worse things than death.  There are worse things that can happen in a lifetime than ceasing to breathe at the end of it.  And there are things more valuable, more vital, more essential, than clutching onto the things we think will preserve or extend our own lifespans.  It matters, I have learned in the faces of dying friends, how we have loved... how we have given ourselves away... how we have spoken and acted with integrity... how we have held to the importance of the truth... how we have not gotten too big for our britches with arrogance or pomposity... and how we have considered the needs of others.  These things matter, it turns out, and have a way of either weighing us down when the shadows lengthen, or lifting our hearts with relief and contentment over a life well-spent.  No, it is not the stopping of my pulse that concerns me--it is much more a matter of whether I have used all the heartbeats that lead up to that day well and wisely or wasted them in self-centeredness, illusions, and lies.

I have learned this as people near the end of their lives look back on what they have done, and what they have left undone... on what things they are proud of, and on the things for which they can only lean on grace.  I have heard them say, "I am ready to go.  I have lived a good life," and I have heard them speak regrets, too, of what they wish they had done differently, and of what they would change if they could.  And even for people who are anxious about the prospect of finding out for themselves what it is like to leave this life, I rarely hear people say they are afraid of the actual moment of death--more that they are mindful of what they did with the span of time between their birth and their death.

And so one lesson I am trying to take away from that recurring bedside classroom in which I frequently find myself is to be clear that there are things worse than death... and that a life ruled by the dominating fear of death ends up distorted and stunted.  

Of course, Jesus has been saying as much for much longer. It's just that I'm more than a little slow on the uptake sometimes.  Jesus, in fact, has been reminding us that the biggest thing to fear is not death--not "those who kill the body" but who cannot touch the deepest part of ourselves.  But rather, God (who by the way, Jesus says, has the power over our bodies, souls, spirits, minds, and everything else about us) is more important, and more to be taken seriously, than death.  And that means the real issue in life is not, "How can I avoid or put off the unpleasantness of dying?" but rather, "How can I live my life aligned with the priorities and character of God, for however long a life I get?"

See, here's the thing--and both Jesus and the people with whom I have shared bedside conversations near death have been making this point: if I spend my lifetime focused solely on saving my own skin and preserving my own lifespan because I am afraid of death, I will end up seeing everyone around me as a threat, every object in the world as a scarce commodity I have to hoard for myself, and every day as another round in a dog-eat-dog competition.  If death is the thing to be most afraid of, I will never really care about you... or anybody else... I'll just care about how to preserve my own health, resources, and vitality.  Fear of death has a way of twisting our hearts--you could say it costs us our souls--because it makes us see others as "the enemy" or "competition," and we start to justify all sorts of indifference and cruelty toward others if I am persuaded that they are a threat to me... and if I am convinced that the preservation of my life is more important than theirs.

Being ruled by the fear of dying sees a stranger by the side of the road and says, "I can't stop to help him--it might be a trick, and the robbers might come and ambush and attack me, or worse!"  Being ruled by fear of dying says, "I have to build bigger and bigger barns to store all my stuff in, so that I'll be able to live for a long time in comfort, rather than sharing with my neighbor."  Being ruled by fear of dying says, "You've got to shoot the other guy first before he draws on you, because extending your own life is the highest value."  And my goodness, I have to say that that kind of life looks downright terrible to me.  Familiar, because we all slip into that mentality, but terrible.  It makes everyone else around us into "the enemy," and it poisons our ability to love and be loved.  But make no mistake, this is what happens when our biggest fear is the ending of life: the fear distorts our hearts, indeed our very souls.

The alternative, then, is what Jesus offers: a life reoriented around what matters to God.  That doesn't take away the truth that one day my heart will stop--but it gives me deep hope for the power of this God to hold onto me beyond the grip of death, and it sure as heaven gives me a different perspective on what I do with my life today while my heart is beating.  And most of all, I don't have to be ruled by the old fear anymore.  And when I am free from fear of dying, I can go to the man by the side of the road and help restore him to life... I can share my abundance rather than hoarding it for myself... I can lay down my life for someone else rather than being petrified of letting it go.

Jesus isn't talking about giving out heaven points for good behavior.  He doesn't say, "Be good and if you do well enough, I'll let you into my afterlife club." Rather, Jesus is freeing us from the insidious grasp of our culture's fear of dying, so that we can see each other rightly and entrust ourselves into God's hands.

Today, we don't have to be ruled by the old fear of death. Death isn’t the biggest kid on the playground, and I don’t have to let my fear of it force me to see everyone else around me as a threat to be fought. It doesn't have to take the top slot of worries for us.  Instead, the question is, how can we use this day in such a way that we will not regret it when we get our final moments in this life?  And in that moment, how will our lives have focused on the things that matter to God?

Lord Jesus, give us clarity about what matters to you, and give us the deep confidence that helps us to let go of fear of dying.