Comfort in Death

Post Soundtrack:  Isolate by Moby

Colossians 3:2-3 - "Set your mind on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.  For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God."

It can be a real temptation to focus on my life here, on my daily struggles, on my daily pain.  In some ways, it is nearly impossible to not have my thoughts dwell on my daily condition.  This is why it is such a strong temptation to put all my effort, worry, and concern in the here and now.

However, this verse clearly speaks directly to that temptation of mine.  As important and pressing as my pain and suffering may be, they are not of the utmost importance.  My spiritual life far surpasses my physical life in urgency and importance.  Even beyond this obvious application, I want to point out to myself that this verse says I have already died, a reminder of my death and burial in Christ through baptism, as is spoken of in Romans 6:3-4.  I do flinch from dying of Lupus, but in truth the more important death has already happened.  I chose my death, that of separating myself from sin, and that death carries so much more impact than any death that Lupus can dole out.  

Further, this verse is a comfort, for it reassures me that the life I gained through my choice is safe in God's hands.  Lupus cannot touch my eternal life, cannot ever take it from me.  God holds that essence beyond the reach of pain, outside the realm of earthly fear.  I never have to fret or worry that, among the other things Lupus has taken from me, I might lose my eternal comfort as well.  God has hidden it away from the contamination of physical disease, and not even my emotional anguish can lessen or taint that final reward.  "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us," Romans 8:18.

All God asks of me in return is that I follow his Word, that I obey his commands.  I need to stop to consider exactly what extremes I would be willing to go to in order to be certain of comfort and the ending of pain.  God has not asked those extremes of me, though he could have.  As it says in 1 John 5:3, "For this is the love of God, that we keep his commandments.  And his commandments are not burdensome."  This is why I unflinchingly and eagerly strive to do his will.  How could I not, when his kindness and mercy are so evident to me as I face Lupus?