Freedom from Death
The freedom from death God gives us should serve as a considerable source of joy for the believer, and it, like the freedom from sin’s clutches we discussed in the last entry, is another one of the initially most obvious benefits of following Christ. Even the immature new believer is aware of it, and it is probably one of the central draws of the faith for them–at first, that is.
So how, then, does the believer take hold of this blessing and add to the joy of the Lord they experience in their day-to-day living? Unsurprisingly, this starts by understanding just what the Christian preacher means when he declares “we now have freedom from death in Christ.”
To do that, we must then start by establishing what it does not mean: while eternal life is a core tenant of Christianity, every believer also knows that–unless our Lord returns before their demise–they will die. In turn, the believer is acutely aware they, even in their saved state, remain susceptible to the physical and emotional suffering by which death is often precluded. There is still the agony of chemotherapy. There is still the slow and terrible process of losing one’s mobility to ALS. There remains still the gaping pit of dread in our stomach when we realize the next several months of our life will be largely characterized by watching a loved one pass away.
All this knowledge is healthily stored in the believer’s mind, even as they adamantly hold to the conviction that Jesus has freed them from death. These beliefs are not paradoxically held; scripture’s promise regarding our liberty from death is not synonymous with the erroneous belief that we will never experience death’s bite. You and I can be reasonably certain we will experience it!
The crucial detail in this, however, is the following: while we are nearly certain to suffer death’s bite and the hardships leading up to it, we are certainly destined to escape its sting. Death will have no ultimate hold over us. It will be nothing more than a temporary inconvenience, just as the bite of a horsefly is before one smacks him away.
It is this freedom from death’s finality the Christian minister refers to when he preaches of the believer’s excusal from dying, and it is the reason scripture declares in 1 Corinthians 15:55 “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?”
Having and appreciating this gift produces holy joy within the believer’s life for multiple reasons. Most obviously, there is gladness that comes from avoiding eternal death, which may sound relatively simplistic, but it is a gladness layered in multiple layers of richness. For one, it adds a newfound purpose to each action taken and every decision made by the believer. Instead of everything they do occurring in a vacuum, running up against a black wall of nothingness with no enduring impact, the life they live is part of a larger, interconnected tapestry woven by God Himself–part of the grand story of God’s mission to restore the brokenness of creation through Jesus Christ.
Let’s make it personal. There is now more weight to the things you do in the present, which beckons you into purposeful living, which draws you into a deeper and more joyful relationship with your Creator, which repeats the cycle. It is as Russell Crowe’s character Maximus famously says in the 2000 classic Gladiator: “What we do in this life echoes in eternity.”
Now, our budding friendship with the spiritually curious coworker is an outlet through which we live our calling, making an indelible mark on eternity. Our hard and honest work at our place of employment becomes a witness of Christ’s work in our own life. Our humility and forgiving nature in our sibling relationships become a means of sharing the Gospel and impacting the forevermore of our own flesh and blood.
Man craves purpose. When he finds purpose, a great deal of joy and contentment is certain to follow. The reality that this life we live in right now is a temporary stop on the bus ride to eternity, with something far better awaiting us in the next life, something we may work towards every day so that as many people as possible may join us in experiencing life beyond the horizon–that is a reality filled with happy labor.
And it’s not a fickle sort of happiness either. It does not demand perfect conditions or a consistently comfortable environment if we wish for it to stick around. Conversely, it is similar to (but much more profound) the steady happiness of the overworked father, who each day must wake up well before dawn in order to begin a fourteen-hour day of farming, or coal-mining, or making widgets at the widget-making factory. However, despite the day of back-breaking labor ahead of him, which will in no way allow for his comfort, indulgence in personal pleasures, time to himself, considerations for his mental health, or anything of a comparable nature, he braves every day with a warm and thankful heart. He is glad to be able to provide for his family. Yes, there are trials he must face, but they do not diminish his joy because his joy is found in something beyond himself and his current state. Just as it is with him, so it is with the believer who endures in their service through bad and good times alike for the sake of God’s eternal kingdom.
In short, our freedom from death, as well as the explicit promise of eternal life attached to it, increases our ability to live purposefully and thereby increases our joy.
But that is only one way freedom from death contributes to holy joy. Another equally as wonderful way it fills our spiritual well is by gifting us a sort of restless anticipation for what is to come. Now, to some, “restless anticipation” may not sound altogether desirable because it, by definition, necessitates that the person who harbors it cannot be fully satisfied until they attain the object of their desire. These skeptics would be both right and wrong: they would be absolutely correct that complete satisfaction in such a state is an utter impossibility, but to say that the state is not “altogether desirable” would be an understandable yet nonetheless incorrect statement.
Think on what this is anticipatory of: a life within a new heaven and new earth in which we will personally dwell alongside the rest of the saints as well as see our Creator face-to-face, all while we inhabit gloriously restored bodies, explore a beautifully refreshed creation that contains everything we loved about our lives on earth without the decay of sin, and serve our King in a unique position specifically tailored to our diverse interests and skillsets.
This is a lot for the believer to look forward to. And there is joy in looking forward to something. Usually, the volume of joy one feels is proportional to the enormity of that which they are anticipating, and if this is the case, then the anticipatory joy the believer feels over the prospect of an eternity in heaven is immense.
Something microcosmic of this would be the young boy, who in the days leading up to Christmas morning finds life to be a perpetual onslaught of delight and wonder, which only grows with each glance he steals at the ever-growing pile of presents underneath the tree. Or with each night spent sitting at his family’s festively adorned hearth, nursing a smooth cup of steaming cocoa and taking in the rosy glow of the crackling fire. Or when he wakes up on some early morning and looks out his window, which is already glazed over with a thin layer of frost but not quite opaque enough to prevent him from watching the silver winter sun reflect off the frozen dew of the snowy grass.
All of these things grow his anticipation, and yes, his joy. Now, it is true that his joy will never be made complete until Christmas morning finally arrives, but for now he is content with the knowledge that it will come soon enough and so gives himself over to the pleasurable-in-its-own-right process of waiting.
Well, by my humble estimation, the believer has something far greater waiting for them than a stack of toys to unwrap on December 25. They have an inheritance where, regardless of how many eons into the future someone may hit the fast-forward button, they will always dwell with Jesus Christ and the rest of the Kingdom of God. This provides a joy that sustains and creates a heart overflowing with gratitude for the Savior Who made it possible. It does instill a restless anticipation inside one’s gut, but it is of the sweet sort that keeps one oriented towards serving their Creator and “storing up treasures in heaven” as opposed to this world, which will only increase the joy they feel in the present.
Lastly, there is the joy rooted in the privilege of eternal life itself, or, essentially, the joy of having received God’s free gift.
This is the hardest to explain of them all, but I can most simply express it (in an admittedly clumsy manner) by comparing it to the gladness an avid reader may feel about receiving a library card–their joy will be made complete when they visit their local library and borrow a litany of works for their mind to feast on, but there is also a type of joy that comes solely from receiving the library card, along with the knowledge of the new worlds and new information it will unlock for you.
If the reader is still following this strange analogy, I will now suggest that while the primary joy of eternal life comes from actually experiencing it (much in the same way the primary joy of the library card comes from using it to obtain books) there is a secondary and extremely powerful joy that stems from the state one finds themselves in after they receive God’s gift (much in the same way the avid reader feels joy when they come into ownership of the library card).
It is a blessing that ought to bring the believer to their knees with gratitude before their God, rejoicing over His great love and mercy and generosity. It ought to color each of their days on this earth with a lens of thanksgiving over the fact that God has deigned to bestow upon them something so wonderful and so thoroughly undeserved, such that the entire course of their eternity switched from a free-falling plummet into everlasting misery and set a new course for a tomorrow much grander than anything they have experienced.
I believe the essence of this particular joy is found in Peter Jackson’s masterful adaptation of J.R.R Tolkien’s fantasy epic The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King. In one scene, the wizard Gandalf and the hobbit Pippin are having a conversation at a time when it feels like the evil tyrant Sauron will succeed in overtaking Middle Earth.
Pippin states that he didn’t think their life would end in a manner such as this. Gandalf responds with “End? No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The gray rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.” Pippin asks him what he means by this, to which he replies “White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.”
That final line does not fail in making me emotional, and I see it as the essence of the hope for eternity the Christian receives. They receive the joyful privilege of knowing they have a beautiful-beyond-their-wildest-dreams inheritance. Of course, the details of what this “far green country under a swift sunrise” might be like are a bit hazy, like the outside world appears to be when peering through a stained-glass window, but the believer knows that it is theirs.
And the very possession of this inheritance is joyous enough for the time being until the day they set off for those white shores themselves.
