“I must decrease and He must increase.”
We post little logos of this phrase.
We say it on the regular.
But are we measuring our blessings by the strength in our benefit or our by our loss?
You got the degree, great.
You got the house, perfect.
Now what?
The order, the progression of aging.
And then?
Dying.
And the wind tosses every artificial flower blemished with the kisses of the sun.
And the wheels squeak the same under each laborious casket load.
And every funeral home smells the same.
Engraved words, that somehow are supposed to summarize a life of highs and lows, emotions, love and loss are somehow supposed to summarize you.
So…
Maybe you were buried next to her, or to him- perfect.
You bought your burial plot debt free, cool.
You did the thing you always wanted to, awesome.
You did what they told you not to, feel better?
You traveled,
You settled.
Or you didn’t and kept searching.
You kept fighting.
Or you gave up.
And they showed pictures of it.
They said nice things about you.
They cracked a few jokes.
They cried.
Then what?
Was that what you were known for?
Will that be what I am known for- known for me?
But maybe death rings hallow and cold on earth because at last the contention between soul and body split-
and the flesh begins to rot.
And in the midst of this, we somehow work to count blessings, post the cute verses, live morally, put up a front, pray before bed, read occasionally, and that’s cares for our spiritual?
I raise a banner of Christianity, but of whose making?
Theology for whose benefit?
Our own or Gods?
Because what will they be talking about at our unexpected funerals?
If your our words were summed up, what would it account for?
What will you say if you realized never got to say goodbye?
When the touch of death threatens your life, what’s your first thought?
… We live in a contention. I can’t avoid it.
We can’t avoid it.
Two sides of one coin.
The fragrances of fading rotting flesh mixed with the essence of the divine spirit dwelling within a breathing temple.
Two realities living in opposition at once.
“So that death is at work in me and life in you…”
“Judge of both the living and the dead…”
But maybe that’s just where I am.
Maybe I don’t want to stop smelling deaths stench raving behind me,
because in my regret I have found wisdom.
And maybe I need that reminder to not exclude the spiritual for the tangible. The reminder that that logic is not crutches to justify the moral.
It’s easy to dress death up in a thoughtful costume with a pretty face, as a reasonable path, a nice emotion, or a momentary idea.
But what is gained in compromise but a catchphrase on a tombstone?
Flesh can clean up nicely.
Eyes can only see a tiny perspective.
But what gives us life is in what we don’t see.
Wind is soft and sweet, and yet terrible and strong.
But “from where it came and where it goes, no one knows”.
So as we parade in a fleshly costume, our souls hidden behind,
Are you… am I living for the costume or the soul?
Maybe it’s just me.
I’ve been wrong so many times.
I’ve lost.
I’ve failed.
But in my biggest regret is also one of biggest truth’s I’ve come to realize-
It’s never been about me.
It’s always been about Him.
And that’s the point.
I need to decrease.
And in His strength, in His eyes- I hope death will carry away a ragged, tattered body to the cold earth bleeding and struggling.
Blessing with the blood of hope that got in the way.
Struggling to keep humility in hurt.
Marked by a love that asked the hard questions.
Bruised from a joy that didn’t back down.
And I hope I come to ruin.
And it will be embarrassing.
Maybe it will hurt.
It will keep hurting.
But, dear Jesus, it hurt you first.
Give me wisdom in my failing and growth in my soul where I don’t yet know I need it yet.
Grant peace to those I can’t reach.
Healing in the soul of those I can’t see.
And bravery to those who need it.
I can’t reach so much.
I’ve failed too often.
Dear God, it hurts so bad.
Be with them, be around them, be before them.
Don’t let us just haunt the earth.
Let us thrive.
Let us see this as a spiritual fight.
No more death without goodbye,
or at least a try at hope.
Amen.