Jesus answered, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life." [John 12:23-25]
What does a seed lose, really? When it gets buried in the darkness of the soil, broken open by the activating presence of water and the beckoning power of the sun, what does the seed really lose?
I mean, yes, in a sense, a seed dies. Yes, very truly, a seed has to give up its old existence as a dried pod. And yes, the new sprout that comes up out of the soil means the end of that old routine of just sitting there. But that's basically like being in limbo--not really dead, but hardly "alive" in a meaningful sense. In a way, the "death" a seed must undergo when it is planted is an obvious choice--it makes possible a kind of life that is so much fuller, so much richer, and so much bigger than the old pattern of just hanging around in an envelope at the Tractor Supply store, hoping to get picked by a customer.
And that's the thing: to follow in the way of Jesus will definitely mean the end of something--maybe many old somethings. But ultimately following Jesus means letting go of limbo, and the ambiguous state seeds have to live in, stuck between being alive and dead. That makes it an easy choice, in a sense. It may be frightening to give up the in-between state in which a seed exists, but it is ultimately and clearly better to let go of limbo in order to become yet more fully alive.
Jesus, of course, is talking about his own literal life, death, and resurrection. Maybe his disciples don't understand that there is the promise of resurrection waiting beyond the borrowed grave and execution stake at the moment, but Jesus does. Jesus sees himself as the seed, and he knows that the moment has at last come for him to lay down his life. That is unquestionably a sacrifice--and yet, Jesus seems to think it is the same sacrifice a grain of wheat makes when it is sown in a field. It means the end of something, but the beginning of something yet more full and vibrant, not only for himself, but for the world.
That makes the choice to lay down his life an obvious one for Jesus. The trade-off is so lopsided as to be ridiculous: if Jesus goes through the cross, there is not only a whole new kind of life opened up to him, but in fact for all creation. Avoiding death means consigning himself to the limbo of always trying to run away from the ones who are out to get him, always hiding from the Romans, the religious authorities, and all the rest. If Jesus holds onto his own life, he's already barely alive. But by laying down his life--by letting go of what was arguably familiar, comfortable, and routine--he makes possible life that is unbreakable and indestructible and given not just to him but to a whole world shrouded in death.
And that's the other piece of this equation: letting go of limbo means life not just for Jesus, but for humanity. Jesus doesn't only get a risen life on the other side of Holy Saturday, but his life is given far and wide. Giving up what was comfortable for him alone--and maybe even good--makes possible a new adventure of life open to the whole world. And for Jesus that's the end of the cost-benefit analysis. You are worth it to Jesus. Including you in the joy is worth Jesus giving up the limbo of just looking out for his own interests--because, obviously, the more the merrier in the Reign of God!
That's the logic of being a seed that gives itself up, in Jesus' way of thinking. Letting go of the comfortable limbo of ordinary life makes possible something wider that gives life for all. Maybe, to show off my Star Trek nerd street cred for a moment, it's like Spock's famous line in Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan: "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few... or the one." That might sound inescapably dark and fatalistic, but both for Star Trek fans and disciples of Jesus, we know there is the hope of life even for the ones who sacrifice themselves so that others can live. But it takes the leap of a willingness to let go of what is comfortable, and maybe even a willingness to let go of the impulse for comfort in the first place.
For us on this day, it may not be that you or I are called to stop breathing for the sake of someone else. But we are quite often called to choose between the familiar and comfortable limbos we place ourselves in and the conscious choice to let go of limbo in what looks like loss but turns out to be a fuller life over all.
The grown adult who leaves the cushy big-deal job in the city to come back home and take care of an aging parent has to leave behind the limbo of climbing the corporate ladder... but it means being able to be there in important moments with the family, and maybe even to get to be free of the rat-race pressure, too. It's a fuller life than limbo.
Or the college graduate who takes a job for lower pay teaching in a poor school district that is in deep need of good teachers, rather than automatically going where the money is--that new teacher makes a choice to leave behind the limbo of defining success by salary, and instead chooses to make a bigger difference in the lives of more kids and communities by staying put rather than leap-frogging out to richer and richer suburbs. It means a sacrifice, but it also means more good for more people than limbo.
Look, I get it--limbo is appealing, in a sense, because it seems to keep us with a foot in two different camps, letting us go in two directions without having to make a choice and leave something behind, even something arguably "good." But, my heavens, staying in limbo for very long is almost always exhausting. And we are fooling ourselves if we can keep it up forever. Sometimes life thrusts a limbo experience upon us that we cannot avoid--the pacing of the ICU waiting room, the months of a pregnancy waiting for a birth, the overlap between an old job and a new one, or the caregiving of loving someone who is in hospice. But it is a damn fool who chooses to keep oneself in a limbo of one's own design, kicking the can down the road to avoid what will eventually and inevitably be a yes or no, up or down choice.
Jesus not only dares us to summon up the courage to walk out of limbo, even if seeds in an envelope like the comfortable limbo of staying where they are on the rack at the store, but he also calls us to make the choice to give ourselves away for the sake of wider, fuller life for all.
And honestly, at the end of my life, I don't think I'm ever going to say, "I wish I had spent more time in limbo, trying to have it both ways." And I'm pretty sure I won't find myself saying, "I wish I had spent more time trying to make myself happy or keep myself comfortable." But I can go to my rest peaceably and with satisfaction if I've learn to let go of "limbo" and "comfortable" and instead spend my minutes giving myself away for others in love. I think that's the kind of life that endures, in the end. Jesus sure seems to think so.
Lord Jesus, pull us out of limbo, and call us into your clarity to give ourselves away.
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