Life on the Other Side of Death

A little while ago my 6 year-old asked me what happens when we die and I, being a good student of N. T. Wright, wanted to make sure that my child didn’t fall for the pop theology of floating up to a cloudy heaven filled with babies playing harps. This was my chance I thought, to do it properly. 

Accordingly, I launched in to a long explanation about the importance of resurrection, and how we physically are going to come back, different but still ourselves in this renewed earth. 

The poor kid got way more than he asked for. But I also found it a bit difficult and awkward explaining the messy realities of resurrection. Especially when the idea of dying and floating off to some sky palace seems a lot less complicated.

And honestly, escaping somewhere to a cloud filled bliss, far from the pain of this year is an appealing prospect.  These past few years have been incredibly difficult ones to navigate. The news is filled with international wars, speculation about nuclear escalation, inflation, out of control housing prices, job shortages (and vacancies somehow at the same time), and of course the ever-present global pandemic. 

Thinking of this Easter, our church community is going to have to find a way to come together again after having been broken apart by the vaccine mandates and the deep emotional responses we have had to them. Gathering together again with those in our community who have a spectrum of feelings ranging from hurt, angry, frustrated, grieving, to nervous, fearful or delighted is tough…perhaps escaping all of that to go to heaven doesn’t sound too bad.

I wonder if that’s why the widespread theology of Jesus dying for our metaphysical sins so that we can be magically raptured into heaven just as things are getting worse here is so compelling. It’s simple, clean, and enticing. It appeals to the deep desire within each of us for God to be the great Dues Ex Machina of our pain.  

But here’s the thing, the Easter story is not about preventing death, but about usurping it. If God simply helped us to avoid the crisis that sin brings, it might give us relief in the short term, but it would not free us. We would still be held in fear as to what would happen if we ever fell back into it. We’d still be insecure, judgmental, anxious, and reactive. Death would still hold its power. 

Instead, Jesus willingly goes to the cross. He doesn’t bypass the pain, but walks right into it.  Showing us that even if everything we fear comes to pass, it is not the end of the story, but paradoxically, the beginning.  

The power of resurrection takes the monstrous deaths that sin forces upon us and bends them to the sovereignty of God to become the stage from which He minsters the resurrected life of Christ to us, and we become transformed into new creations.*

I think that’s why Jesus’ call to us has always been:

“If any of you wants to be my follower, you must give up your own way, take up your cross, and follow me.  If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for my sake, you will save it” (Matt 16:24).

For me, this has been the hope that’s kept me going in a season that has had lots of little deaths. The pressure has forced me to deal with how much I strive for the affirmation of others. To grapple with the insecurity that makes me cope with conflict through people-pleasing. To be honest with myself and others about my faults and weaknesses; entrusting them to the grace of God. 

And despite the pain of it all, on the other side of it, I have experienced grace for my faults. God and others have ministered love to the exposed places of shame. I’ve felt more free than ever before to lead in what God has called me to, without needing the affirmation of others to do it. It’s been life on the other side of those deaths. Resurrection. 

So, do you feel like you’ve been in a crushing season? Having to watch the dreams you had dreamed die? Opportunities, friendships, health, security, or housing slowly fade away? Maybe you’re serving in a church or ministry and feel like you’ve been giving and giving and have nothing left? Or like the dreams and momentum of your church have slowly died off?

The hope of resurrection isn’t that Jesus will magically show up and prevent all those things from happening. He is no Deus Ex Machina. The hope of resurrection is that the power those deaths hold over you is broken, and that in Christ, those deaths become the beginning places of new life. 

Wholeness on the other side of trauma. Church on the other side of covid. Life after Death. 

Will it look different? Undoubtably. Is it painful to get there? Usually. Is it worth it? Unreservedly. 

In the words of the Apostle Paul, who himself went through this death and resurrection process,

“Yes, everything else is worthless when compared with the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have discarded everything else, counting it all as garbage, so that I could gain Christ” (Phil 3:8).

This is our hope. It might not be what we think we want, but this year and every year, it’s what we need. 

~

Colin Gruetzmacher is currently lead pastor at Golden Sands Baptist Church.

* I’m greatly indebted here to Andrew Roots work in The Pastor in a Secular Age. Specifically chapter 11 where he lays out a theology for the arriving God who ministers to us in these death events.