The Death of Life

What do I really believe about the death of Jesus? Not the actual historical, elementary presentation of His death, but necessarily the death of Jesus. Do I believe that it has implications for my life? My death? Your life? Your death? I am not positive what I really believe about the death of Jesus. It would be assumed that an acceptance of His death would suggest a change of perspective. A change of direction at least. However, what I find exists more often is a disregard of life. A disregard of human experience. A disregard of the emotional unrest that exists in the lives of many people. The death of Jesus was intended for more than just eternal salvation. More than just a momentary relief from the chaos that is often self-inflicted in the first place. The death of Jesus was meant to empower me to move forward through my seemingly congested moments between the cradle and the grave. It was intended to awaken my love for the mysterious, for the undetermined, for the often forgotten pursuit of life’s one singular promise- no promises! I find that I often celebrate the mediocre. I often join in the choir of songs for the undernourished, unmotivated, unadulterated life of blasé. However, it is the death that continues to bring me to the edge time and time again. It is the Spirit of life conquered death that ushers me into the realm of the unsettled. Where less days are wrought with the fear of normalcy than the days ruined by mystery. Because of the death of Jesus I am reminded that life has purpose, even if it seems the opposite most of the time. I do not long to live recklessly or without regard for others. I do not desire to live on the edge of my seat or by the seat of my pants. I do not desire the anxiety of the unknown, nor do I seek to be enamored by great signs and wonders. However, I do desire to live. To breathe in deeply the smell of good coffee. To know the fury of Oklahoma’s wind, only to know the foundation of her earth. I do long to get caught in the crescendo of the gathering storm, reminding me that I am but a minor player in this grand drama we call life. I long to see my wife caught in the wonder of her beauty; my daughters in the confidence of their kindness, and my son wrapped up in his smile. I long to revel in the wit of my sisters, the silence of my step father, and the undying love of my mother. I long to know the faithfulness of my wife’s mother and love her daughters have for her. I long to live. To rest in the mystery of the unknown. To trust that life will continue from day to day-with or without me. I pray that I am found worthy of a life lived in that moment. I pray that I begin to understand the death of Jesus.