The Irony of Death

I am sitting here watching the birds outside my window.  They neither sow nor do they reap, yet their Heavenly Father takes care of them.  He has promised the same to us.  It is amazing to me how God uses everything in our lives to paint a picture of Himself to us.  Little things, like birds, dogs, novels, and walking.  On my walks it seems that during the  time of being all alone with the dogs, observations of the Father abound.  Last week the snow was incredible, bringing to mind the verses about "being whiter than snow."  Everyday observing the instincts of the dogs to hunt, propelled by an inner drive giving them purpose.  Watching their faces, their glee at smelling a prey of some sort, Dallas diving into the water when it is 25 degrees outside paying the cost for fulfilling what he was made to do and to be.  

I have been engrossed this week in the novel War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy.  He writes of just those things.  Everyday life, seeing how God weaves stories into all of our lives, giving us and those around us purpose.  Families with the same hopes, dreams, goals, and trials that are peculiar to all of mankind.  Tolstoy weaves a tale of "every man."   "Every man" trying to find meaning in his life.  Some of his characters find it ultimately in God, some of them don't, but through all of the comings and goings of these families the author has them think of ultimate issues, just like every one in life does.  It is a myth that modern man does not think in terms of ultimate issues, of life and death, of purpose and meaning.  "Every man" does.  We universally wrestle with the question of whether we will be "the captain of our soul," as the poem Invictus tells us, or whether we will be chained, bound, and die, but be free.  The apostle Paul says we are being led behind the victors procession, we are captive slaves.  No longer bound by the constraints of sin, but captive of another.  One that can truly be our master, one that wrote our purpose for living into our minds and hearts, then we are compelled to be His slaves, joyfully serving a master that takes care of us just as He takes care of the birds of the air.  

The one thing that sets us free though is the one thing that we run from.  Written into the fabric of the mystery of the universe is that death is the way of life.  Satan tempted our first parents and death became a reality.  Christ conquered that death.  He, Christ, knows that the way to real life is death, and that is the object of Satan's worst lies.  He makes us, even as Christians, turn toward "his" definition of life which is in reality death, and away from true life which Christ says is in our dying.  This is the irony of all ironies, written everywhere.  We need only to open our eyes to see it all around us.  Does all of this make it easy, or less of a battle, or something that comes naturally?  No, it is a battle daily.  Paul says he dies daily.  It is not a once in a life time thing, like Hannah Hurnard, or Watch Man Nee says.  It is a daily dying of self.  

 I have developed some resolves, or turn that around and call them red flags for me to test myself on this, questions that I ask myself and ask of God the Holy Spirit, whether He sees this in me or not.  When I am in a crowd, do I feel lost, insignificant?  When I am in a smaller group of people, do I have to be the center of attention, or am I even down cast at not being noticed as I think I should be?  Am I easily offended when people notice others works, but pass mine by?  How do I listen to others, not what do I say to them, do I listen to them?  Can I be quiet and not speak of  my opinions?  Can I be marginalized by others, not needed, even not wanted, and still rejoice in the one that alone gives me significance?  This is just a sample of the thoughts that go through my head.  Calvin says in the first chapter of his Institutes, that in order to know ourselves rightly, we must gaze on Him, and His character.  The more I do this, the more and more I realize His Amazing grace.  I can not even stand in His presence, and yet He gives me dignity, because I am His.  Only that, I am His.  Oh the depths, Oh the riches of His love to me.  Death, life, which will you choose today?