'Tis the Season: Born to Die, Day 2

…Advent contemplations on what it means to follow Christ, in being born in order to die

Christmas is an odd season.  We celebrate the birth of a baby.  Yippee!  But we know that in this celebration, the cross looms ahead.  I’ve seen Christmas cards with a manger scene, and in that manger scene is a shadow of a cross.  I think it depicts the reality of Christmas and Christianity well.

And not just Christianity, but life.  Ecclesiastes 3:1-2 philosophically states:

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot…

Not only was Jesus born to die, but we are as well.  

I don’t have to wonder “how” I would live differently if I kept my own mortality in mind, because I actually know.  In 2006 my doctor discovered that I had an ovarian tumor.  When it was discovered, a bunch of random “symptoms” of ovarian cancer suddenly fell into place.  I was quickly headed for surgery.  The tumor ended up being benign (and I still wonder if God graciously healed that tumor before it was removed), but for those weeks leading up to the surgery, I was keenly aware of how fragile life is, and I was equally aware of how close death is.

The odd thing about that time?  It was incredibly clarifying.

Things that were important pre-tumor became absolutely unimportant.  Other things that had been on the periphery of my consciousness came front and center.  During those weeks I knew it was time to leave my job and (if God gave me more years) launch out on something new.   I knew there were pieces of my life I needed to celebrate more.  And there were things that I still longed to do.  

Is it possible to live with an awareness of our demise every day if we are alive and healthy?  Perhaps not.  In fact, it would probably be unhealthy to live in that state of high awareness all the time.  However… is there a way that we can place into the rhythm of our lives and our seasons, moments when we look at what we do, and who we are, in the light of death, and gain that clarity?  I think so.

2006 is a long time ago.  But today, I’m asking the question:  Do I know that I’m born to die?  And in knowing that, what clarity does that bring?  What becomes unimportant?  And what becomes urgent?