Grappling with Control and the Fear of Dying

Every so often I get a healthy perspective about the temporal nature of life. I'm reading a book now by a man in his 80′s who states in his introduction the first 80 years pass like a flash. His exact words are "Eighty years sounds like a long time until they are behind you."

I have a love/hate relationship with death. I like life. I enjoy getting up every morning. I like my job and my friends and the city where I live. I have bad days but not many. And I like building things in this life. I like building books and launching others into their careers. And yet every once in a while I realize this whole thing is going to be taken away. It's enough to make me quit, honestly. It's enough to make me wonder whether I'd not be better to get married and run a small shop and spend more time walking my dog along the river (I already spend plenty, so maybe that's overdoing it) because what's the point of building something when you just have to let it go?

I was with my friend Jim Chaffee recently for a rare speaking gig in a warm climate during winter (the previous month I had been in Edmonton, where it was ten below) and we took a day to just play in the sun. We rented jet skis and rode around the bay in St. Marten. Towering between the bay and the ocean stood the largest privately owned yacht in the world, owned by a russian businessman whose name I forget. It was pretty fun to ride my rented water scooter around the thing. It was as large as a cruise ship.

Later I found myself wondering how hard it would be if you were that guy, knowing all you've built and accumulated would have to be left behind. I wondered whether, even if he believed he were going to heaven, would wish he could stay since in heaven he'd likely just have to start all over. It's a silly thought but I was trying to put myself in his shoes, you know. I wondered whether he hated death, hated thinking about it, and, not unlike the Egyptian rulers of old had elaborate plans to keep his memory and power alive. I wondered whether he thought he could beat death.

The part of me that is uncomfortable with death is the same part of me that likes control. And none of us have control over death. I mean if we wanted, we could decide when we'd like to die, but we have no control over what happens after that. And not having control can be terrifying.

This whole following Jesus business is largely about giving Him control, or more, realizing we don't have control to begin with. And a great way to measure whether or not we've given Him our lives is to ask ourselves if we've given Him our death. By that I mean are we are okay with the fact that some day soon we are going to part with all that we've made, all that we've done, and no longer have an ounce of control over what happens on the earth?

I'll be very candid with you here. If it weren't for the reality of death, I'd have much more trouble following Christ. Death means some day I have to trust Him, and life is something like a preparatory academy for that moment. If I can trust Him with my death, I can trust Him with my life, and that means my next book and my romantic confusion and my anger and desire to get even and my money and all the rest. Death doesn't give me a choice. And so I'm thankful.

Tomorrow I want to look at a story in John that might help us trust Jesus with the tough reality of death.

Grappling with Control and the Fear of Dying is a post from: Donald Miller's Blog