Die Before You Die
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[In case you're wondering, Thomas is a cherub; a blessed cherub of nocturnal tranquility -- thank you, dear sweet Jesus.]
11:30pm -- James comes pattering in to our room, sobbing and frustrated. I jolt awake. I hear JP coughing deeply, rhythmically, productively. The optimistic hope of Maybe they'll sleep through the night died again.
11:30pm to 1am -- I tuck them back in. I wait out the hacking. I reassure the fearful. I comfort the frustrated. I re-blanket the thrasher.
My nightly paternal works of mercy are performed. Each with care and consistency. But each with a twinge of regret at my self-seeking. If I do these, I get to go back to bed and sleep. Please, Lord, let this be the last time tonight.
For almost ten years we begged the Lord for these gifts -- for these children to love and serve. With what greedy hearts did we seek, if in the moments of their deepest needs we seek our own comfort?
All moments are now present in each moment. The child and teen that I was, the man that I've been, the man that I am now, and my chance to become the man that I want to be -- they are all present. Who I was in the past is manifested in how I respond to hardship now. The foundation for who I will be is determined in the decision I make right now.With that being said, it's easy to look to (hopefully far) into future and see future Chris standing before the judgement seat pleading back to living Chris: "Choose Christ! Choose love, sacrifice and joy! Do it now while you can still choose!" But 1am tomorrow Chris is also begging for that choice, as is past Christ, and right-now Chris -- not to mention Stephanie and Peggy, my boss.
What I do with my life matters. It matters so much. How I love my children. How I love my wife. How I do my job. How I interact with the needy guy at the library. How I interact with the sad-faced woman at the gas station. It matters because people matter.
It also matters because how I live determines the quality of my heart -- either expanding or shrinking my ability to love. And, for my money, there is no surer guarantee of quality of life than that: a well expanded heart. But oh at what cost to a recalcitrant heart like mine does that expansion come!
C.S. Lewis says that suffering and pain are God's megaphones to the soul. He would form us by whatever means. If we'd be supple like clay He would use His hands. But the hardened heart is like marble and requires a chisel. Clay can be moulded; marble must be cut away.
My apologies to my sons, but they may have to grow up getting sick quite a bit if that's the Lord's preferred instrument for my cardiac expansion.In a poignant passage in Til We Have Faces, C.S. Lewis says 'Die before you die; there is no chance after.' I think of the rich man's dialogue with Abraham, begging him to send poor Lazarus back to warm his brothers. To warn them about the dangers of Hell, yes. But also to warn them about the painful reality that is an unconverted heart. I think for most of us this transformation means what Victor Frankl calls Self-Transcendence.
“The more one forgets himself--by giving himself to a cause to serve or another person to love--the more human he is and the more he actualizes himself. What is called self-actualization is not an attainable aim at all, for the simple reason that the more one would strive for it, the more he would miss it. In other words, self-actualization is possible only as a side-effect of self-transcendence.” -- Man's Search for Meaning
I talked about this briefly in my eulogy for my Grandma. For me, I've encountered no surer recipe for finding ample opportunities for choosing self-transcendence than parenthood. The operative word being 'opportunities'.None of this is to say that I am so wretched and terrible and blah, blah, blah. My identity is firm and good -- I am a beloved Son of God. But, Glory be, He's not done teaching and forming me yet.
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