It seems to be a recurring topic here recently.
The more I look into this whole idea of going to Haiti, the more I see that I am completely inadequate. The more I search, the more I see how little I have yet found. The more I understand the problem, the more I see that I cannot fix it. The more I live, the more I see the need to die.
George MacDonald referred to it when he wrote, “I used to build many castles, not without a certain beauty of their own - that is, when I was less understanding. Now I leave them to God to build for me: He does it better and they last longer.”
Harriet Beecher Stowe wrote it poetically: “From his deepest soul, he that hour loosed and parted from every hope in life that now is, and offered his own will an unquestioning sacrifice to the Infinite.”
Paul said it this way: “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.” And again, “For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.”
Amy Carmichael called it “a chance to die.”
C.S. Lewis said something about a masterpiece wishing in the midst of all that dreadful, time-consuming artistry that it were only a simple stick figure that could be drawn in a moment and done with.
Jesus said, “Unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.”
They all mean the same thing. Death is a good thing. Death is necessary for dead things to be brought to life.
I’ve begun to take note of the antics of dead leaves these days. The one that skipped along next to me on the shores of the lake. The mob that followed me up the road as I walked to the house. The hundreds upon hundreds that spun their quirky, rambling way to the ground under a sudden gust of wind.It is my hope and prayer that for every dead leaf I see, a child of God is learning what it means to die.
