The fly never had a chance. The glass of juice it had landed in was far too enticing – brightly colored, silky smooth and a full delicious serving of both fruit and vegetables! As I looked at it, black and bloated, turned legs up in the center of a glass tumbler, I thought, with as much satire and irony as I could muster prior to my third cup of coffee, "Well, at least he died doing what he loved." Then I poured him down the drain and turned the disposal on.
I often find myself trying to put this 'living and dying' thing in some sort of perspective. It's far from a love of the macabre – I don't watch horror movies, and I quickly turn the channel if it appears I'm about to view a commercial for one (they give me the creeps). I'm much more interested in the living side of the equation. What are we here for? At thirty-something I'm still trying to get a grasp on the meaning and purpose of living – maybe I'm not alone in that.
I guess as a Christian I'm supposed to have that all figured out. Of course, that 'purpose' may depend on what kind of Christian you inquire it of…or even what Christian text you search for it in. Often it seems we're living to die – everything wonderful is beyond. I have sat through scores of emotionally charged solos and choir specials in churches that opined the troubles of this world and the splendid serendipity of the afterlife. Life, on this earth, becomes a test we are set up to fail – even though it is 'open book' and we are encouraged to share 'answers' with classmates. It is a perspective I often find troubling.
Understandably, the centerpiece of orthodox faith is Jesus' death – the 'substitutionary atonement.' In fact, half of the pages of the New Testament and a majority of the books therein are attempts at framing early Christian communities around the meaning of Jesus' death (and resurrection, of course).
Yet, in all of this death it seems that Jesus' life becomes obscured. For someone who is often labeled by preachers as one 'born to die,' Jesus appears to have had an unusual interest in the lives and the living of those around him. Why heal the sick or countenance the psychologically tormented if death is the goal? Why feed the hungry or patiently embrace the children if it is the endgame that matters the most? Why break barriers by dining with 'sinners' and acknowledging prostitutes if society and culture are meaningless elements of a world that will melt away into eternal obscurity? And why turn over the tables of the moneychangers and challenge a damning economic system if such earthly matters are so unimportant in the end?
Was it all just symbolic gesture? Was it simply evidence of divine status? Maybe…maybe not. Rather than simply showing us how to die, it seems quite possible that Jesus of Nazareth stands as a revelation of how to live. That may seem like nebulous hair-splitting for some, but it could be a transformational nuance for others – like me. It changes one's viewpoint of the cross – from looking back to looking forward. Instead of a reminder of Jesus' death, the cross becomes a sign at the end of the road of Jesus' life…and at the beginning of ours.
The fly in my house didn't die 'doing what it loved'…it drowned in a desperate attempt to live. In many ways I think Jesus shared such a passion for life. That doesn't necessarily answer questions of meaning and purpose for us. But, like the New Testament writers who inscribed meanings to Jesus' life, that very well may be a task for others to discern after our own demise. Maybe the best thing we can do is step off the dry land of certainty into the chaotic waters of life, and try to create something good out of the mess all around us (Genesis 1). – D. Christian Nix, 10/6/10
//////////////////
"We're all excited / But we don't know why / Maybe it's cuz / We're all gonna die
/ And when we do / What's it all 4? / U better live now / Before the grim reaper come knocking on your door…" – Prince, Let's Go Crazy
"…I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly." – Jesus, John 10:10
