How does our conviction sound to others?

By John Pearring

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/072520.cfm
II Corinthians 4:7-15
Matthew 20:20-28

Here’s a morbid thought that we’re supposed to live out with weird conviction. The dying of Jesus means that death is at work in us. Boy does that sentence wrap our heads into knots. How can one get Jesus’ death and the nagging, fatality of our lives into a sales pitch? How would that conviction sound on a bumper sticker?

Jesus died! So will we!
Dying is holy work!
Gimme the death of Christ!

We Christians struggle as does anyone, of any faith, about inevitable death. How do we make sense of it? What answer can we give to death’s impending fist? We have an amazing answer. “The one who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus.” (2 Cor: 4:14)

Death, all by itself, stinks. It reeks of fear, doom, and every awfulness. There’s no trauma greater than death.

Death, however, is not all by itself. It’s a gauntlet, for sure, but for us to be assured of the holy grail at the other end of this life we need some assurances. Saint Paul, in a second letter to the Corinthians, provides the background for our witness.

For some of us, death may take decades of painful reminders. For others, it comes in a blink. I voted early and often for the blink version. Then, I was forced to escape, almost miraculously, from the quick end. My hopes for dying quickly have now been ignored. You see, once you hit seven decades the slow death has already happened. Since fewer body parts work at their previously reliable peaks, we can acknowledge dying as a matter of fact.

Most of us older folks get the reminder path to death through some type of disease. Age isn’t the only factor. Almost all of us can log an environmental potential for death based on the potential for earthquakes, lightning, tornadoes, tsunamis, and volcanoes. All those who drive cars, hike in wild woods, take elevators and fly in airplanes learn to rely on the low statistical possibilities for death. Yet, each of these endeavors is “risky.” One could argue that we’re technically suicidal due simply to our agreement to participate in any life activity that offers the possibility of dying.

None of this is unimportant, but it’s not the whole story. As Christians, we don’t have to rely on well-tuned safety measures to ward off death — whether in security systems or wise choices. We’ve got a very real, awesomely specific, and incredibly loving answer to death.

“… we too believe and therefore speak,
knowing that the one who raised the Lord Jesus
will raise us also with Jesus
and place us with you in his presence.”
(2 Cor: 4:14)

Even if we forget this is true, it’s still true. Being raised up after our death is the answer to every fear.

“We are afflicted in every way, but not constrained;
perplexed, but not driven to despair;
persecuted, but not abandoned;
struck down, but not destroyed;
always carrying about in the body the dying of Jesus,
so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our body.”
(2 Cor: 4:8-11)

I especially like, “struck down, but not destroyed.” In this day and age of unbridled, unrelenting, and seemingly obsessive determination to kill our bodies and rattle our minds we will not be destroyed.

In war, soldiers afraid for their lives, have been encouraged by the famous line, “There are no atheists in foxholes.” An odd reality of war is that conversions climb. Under oppressive regimes, Christianity often thrives. Death, in other words, holds no power over the faithfully aware Christian.

Peace and prosperity will always be our modus operandi, our goals as citizens and friends and family. We want to live in freedom, with liberty for all. Absolutely. Yet, every servant of the public, every missionary, every soldier, and every healthcare worker steps into death’s onslaught with a treasured sense of sacrifice. A commitment to protect. As Christians, this is our daily walk regardless of our career, status, age, and circumstance.

We desire and even strive for peace and prosperity. But we know the inevitability of this age, this present temporary existence. We march toward death. “We are afflicted in every way, but not constrained,” said Paul in his letter to the Corinthians. Death is the ultimate affliction, but our life in Jesus and his life in us trumps the constraint of death.

“For we who live are constantly being given up to death
for the sake of Jesus,
so that the life of Jesus may be manifested in our mortal flesh.”
(2 Cor: 4:11)

Our public recognition of death’s inability to constrain our coming resurrection points everyone to Jesus. It’s not us. It is Jesus to whom we witness.

“Everything indeed is for you,
so that the grace bestowed in abundance on more and more people
may cause the thanksgiving to overflow for the glory of God.”
(2 Cor: 4:15)

We do not really march toward death. We walk eagerly toward God. This is our witness. We are not limited to bumper-sticker phrases. That means we’re not cogs in the common good of society, but holy living beings, temporarily housed in these wonderful, but disintegrating “earthen vessels.” We’re brothers and sisters in Christ.

As our reading began, so should this reflection end.

“Brothers and sisters:
We hold this treasure in earthen vessels,
that the surpassing power may be of God and not from us.”
(2 Cor: 4:17)