Archive for February, 2012
Are You Confident that Life Exists after Death?
I’m not too sure I like the idea of arriving to heaven in a state of human perfection, where I’m free of my mistake ridden, gas producing body; and, where I somehow transcend my sometimes mischievous, often depraved, usually creative and darkened mind. I don’t like the perfect me.
Or, rather, I don’t like perfect me in the Greek philosophy sense of perfect, where I’m static, gloriously unmovable and unable to grow. I like the unGreek idea of perfect me, where perfection is growth! Where perfection is sometimes mistakes!
If the next “world” is an “afterlife” where we sit around like a bunch of 60 somethings at a high school reunion reminiscing about the old times, then take my name off the sign-up sheet. Life is growth. Eternal life is some type of eternal growth. But if the eternal is somehow after life, where we sit and admire both our own and God’s timeless perfection … then it’s not for me.
I want messy relationships with God and others. I want a place where it takes an eternity for the finite to exhaust the infinite. I want a place that’s lived in … not some fancy mansion where every little piece of furniture is in its rightful place, where the white carpet can’t be tread upon and the windows can’t be smudged. Give me the place where I can be myself and allow God and others to mold me as I interact with them. I want a place that’s dirtied by the use of people.
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But I have a secret doubt that I’m afraid to admit. I’m afraid to admit it because this doubt could undermine both my legitimacy as a Christian and my ability to comfort people during their weakest moments.
Sometimes I doubt the whole resurrection and eternal life thing even exists. In fact, there’s times when I tell myself I have to learn to be content with this life because it could be all I’ll ever have.
I know that Jesus talks time and time again about eternal life, but is it possible that his understanding of eternal life is different than ours? Yes, it’s possible.
For those of us that are Christians, sometimes it’s the highest expression of our faith to believe in something that’s unseen. And so it’s hard to admit when we doubt about the seemingly certain promises of the unseen eternal life that’s promised in God’s Word. It’s as though we’re being faithless and, in a sense, unChristian if we doubt and question the life to come after death.
Realizing that few of us are brave enough to put our doubts out in the public for all to question, I’ve set up this anonymous poll.
Please answer honestly. I realize that many have NO doubts about eternal life. And I also realize that some of you have totally written off eternal life as a type of “opiate for the masses”. Either way, feel free to respond according to what you believe.
Once you take the poll, it will show you the results.
[polldaddy poll=5986253]
The Song that Moves Michelle Duggar to Tears

A couple weeks ago I had the privilege of meeting Christa Wells via twitter. Not only is Christa the writer of the Natalie Grant song “Held” (which happens to be my mother’s favorite song; and a favorite in funeral services), but she’s also the co-author of the Todd and Angie Smith (of the music group “Selah”) song “I Will Carry You.”
“I Will Carry You” is — to the best of my knowledge — one of the only songs written about miscarriage (correct me if I’m wrong?).
Christa writes about “I Will Carry You”,
What an honor it was to sit in the room with Todd & Angie Smith just a few days after the tragic diagnosis of their unborn daughter’s condition. They had just learned that Audrey Caroline would not survive more than a few moments outside the womb. We spent the day processing together and putting music to a lyrical idea Angie had already begun writing for little Audrey. We wrote for her inevitable memorial service, not knowing it would end up on the album, as well.
Not only has this song been healing to it’s authors, it’s also been healing to Michelle Duggar, who recently wrote,
These last couple of months have just been very precious in the fact that I have been able to grieve over the loss of all those dreams that I was looking forward to, just hoping to getting to spend time with her. There’s a song written by Selah called “I Will Carry You,” and it is the most beautiful song expressing from a mother’s heart the love and the sadness of losing a baby while you’re expecting. At times I’ve played that song two or three times a day and just sing to the Lord and then just cry and release the tears that I need to let go of . Because I think if we hold the grief in it’s not going to help us to overcome and move on.
So I allow myself to cry and let it out, and it’s been the same for my children. We were all getting ready for Jubilee; we had bought items like a baby walker and a little jumparoo because so much of our baby stuff had been worn out. And then to realize that it’s not going to be used by her has been a hard reminder for everyone.
Here’s the song. And I think you’ll understand why it’s been so meaningful to the Duggars.
Make sure to check out Christa Wells‘ website and follow her on twitter.
And, if the song touched you, there’s a book written by Angie with the same title.
Ash Wednesday: The Day We Doubt Our Immortality

Ash Wednesday isn’t suppose to be comfortable. It’s a day when the church takes repentance public. A day when something we usually reserve for the private sphere get’s pushed into the public sphere. It’s a day when repentance becomes corporate. When repentance is there for all to see, with the sign of the cross inscribed in ash on our foreheads.
And it’s not just a time of repentance, but it’s also a time of relinquishment … relinquishment of our project of immortality.
As I wrote earlier this week:
Denial of death, for Pulitzer Prize winner Ernest Becker, is an all encompassing explanation for human endeavors.
Death, though, for Becker has two levels of meaning: The first level is phyiscal death. After all, how many times a day do we attempt to distance ourselves from death? Do you eat healthy? Do you wear a seat belt?
The second understanding of death plays more into our discussion. This type of death can occur during life. It’s the type of death that takes place when we experience a loss of meaning, worth or affirmation. And this type of death, though it will happen eventually for us all, is what most of us work so hard to deny.
Ash Wednesday is an acknowledgement of Ernest Becker’s second type of death. It’s an acknowledgement of our mortality; an acknowledge of our finitude; and an acknowledge of our depravity.
It’s the day we repent for our denial of death. Essentially, it’s a day when we prove Ernest Becker wrong.
It does us good to remember the old saying that is found on some tombstones:
Remember friends as you pass by,
as you are now so once was I.
As I am now so you must be.
Prepare for death and follow me.
It’s good for us to remember that the works of our hands will not last forever. That our kingdoms will fall. That America will one day be no more. That our bodies will die. That our jobs, our business, our children, our name, our political ideals, and even our religion will one day — if they are lucky — find themselves in the annuls of history. That even our Christianity as we know it will one day be rendered dead.
And maybe this type of doubt is the reason few evangelicals partake in Ash Wednesday. After all, we have fervently engaged in the project of death denial as we’ve built theological buildings that we believe will last for time eternal.
And maybe it’s right to even press this farther.
Maybe Ash Wednesday is a day when the church should allow ourselves to doubt in the life after this one. That maybe our hopes of heaven are misinterpretations of Jesus’ words. That maybe all we have is today to love and be loved. And maybe, in forgetting this next life, we might strive for life now. We might find eternal life before our death.
Ash Wednesday isn’t suppose to be comfortable. No, there’s nothing comfortable about this day.
“From dust you were made and to dust you shall return.” – Genesis 3:19
Caption This
There’s so many different angles of weirdness to this photo.
First off, I’m assuming there’s no body in that wicker coffin.
And the reason I’m assuming that there’s no body in the coffin is because funeral directors MUST NEVER smile when driving a hearse … or a hearse-bike for that matter. It’s a part of our religion and very much frowned upon. Seriously. It’s the commandment that comes after FUNERAL DIRECTORS MUST ALWAYS WEAR BLACK (a commandment that he’s still adhering to … thankfully).
If there’s a body in the wicker casket, I’m finding this smiley, Joel Osteen heretic guy and physically kicking him out of the Fraternal Order of Undertakers.
AND, who in the world would want a hearse-bike to carry their casket? This is America. This is the place of massive cars. Of expensive machines. Of Cadillacs. Of Lincolns. A bike? Really? What is this … France? I bet he’s so liberal he votes for Ralph Nader.
And, is the lady dressed in green in the background of the photo a pot pixie? “Created by God. Condemned and abused my man.” There’s a lot of eco-theology packed into that little statement. But that doesn’t concern me. No, I’m still upset about the smiling undertaker.
What concerns me is the small little number at the rear wheel of the hearse-bike thingy. Can you find it?
Is that number representative of his racing number? Is this a race? Is that creepy, soon to be ex-funeral director guy in a suit racing the hearse-bike? Wrong. So. Wrong.
And finally, what are those two kids doing sitting on the sidewalk in their pajamas?
This picture produces more questions than answers, which is why it needs your caption.


