Fast 40: Practicing the Ancient Spiritual Discipline of Lentಮಾದರಿ

I really dislike the euphemistic phrase "they passed away," which we use when describing someone's death. They didn't pass away. They died. And the reason why I refuse to use that kind of language is because my faith isn't shy about death.

Jesus Christ died. He didn't pass away. His pulse stopped, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, his body turned pale, went cold, began stiffening with rigor mortis, was embalmed, and was buried in a tomb. Death is the great equalizer. It comes for the prince and the pauper alike. No one can escape it. You can't buy your way out of it, or power-move your way through it, or charm your way around it. Death is inevitable, impending, and, during COVID, something we were reminded of daily. But perhaps that was a good thing.

You see, Christ not only wanted to die for us—he wanted us to die with him. When we are wounded, we are wounded with him. When we are betrayed, we are betrayed with him. When we are on our deathbed, we are dying with him. As the Scripture says, Christ calls us to "share his sufferings."

In the words of Bonhoeffer, "When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die."

What is Christ asking you to die to? A career? A relationship? A desire? A plan? Yourself?

It's not easy to say goodbye to the things we love, but if our faith is in Christ, we can be assured of hope, because there are no hopeless hopes in Christendom. Nothing ever really stays below the ground in Christianity. It can't, because if it is grounded in Christ, it must submit to those eternal words:

"I AM the Resurrection and the Life."