Philippians 1:21.

“For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” (Philippians 1:21)

Paul didn’t write those words airily, flippantly.  He wasn’t writing from a mountain top retreat, reflecting on life and death in an abstractly glorious way.

He wrote that from prison.  He wrote that from the context of a life continually in danger for the sake of Christ.  They were weighty words.

TO LIVE: CHRIST.
TO DIE: GAIN.

I’ve been forgetting that.  I’ve been viewing life selfishly.  I’ve been clinging to life selfishly — not just my own life but others’ as well.  And in grasping for physical life, a life that is really but a breath, I lost sight of the whole point of living.  Christ.

To live is Christ.  That’s it.  That’s my life.  Christ.  My heart, my heartbeat, my continual song and theme: Christ.  (Note: I mean that more prescriptively than descriptively…)  And not just those things, but my Lord and my God.  The person of Christ.

And what of death?  Gain. Because it unites me, wholly, finally, and eternally, with the Christ who was my life.  Death ushers me into the presence of my Savior, to finally see Him with my own eyes and worship Him as I look upon Him.  It’s gain.  Unspeakable, incomparable gain.

“If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me.  Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell.  I am hard pressed between the two.  My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better …” (Philippians 1:22-23)

He was torn.  To live meant “fruitful labor,” and to die meant being with Christ, which is “far better.”  And by far, he meant the whole distance.  It’s far better.

This was his life.  TO LIVE: CHRIST.  TO DIE: GAIN.  It was simple.

It wasn’t TO LIVE: SUCCESS or TO LIVE: MAKE A NAME FOR MYSELF or TO LIVE: FIND THE LOVE OF MY LIFE AND START A FAMILY or TO LIVE: ENJOY ALL THE WORLD HAS TO OFFER BEFORE I GO or TO LIVE: AVOID PAIN AND SUFFERING AT ALL COSTS.  (Or add whatever else we might substitute for Christ.)

Not that all of these things are bad, but they weren’t the defining factor of his life.  They weren’t of first importance to him.  TO LIVE: CHRIST.

And because living was Christ, dying was gain … because dying was Christ, too.  In fact, it was Christ in His fullness, face to face!

To be honest, when I wrote my last post, I was struggling.  I was struggling mainly because I forgot the point of living and dying.  I forgot the truth of Philippians 1:21.  And I’ll probably forget it again and/or be tested on that very point.

But even in matters of life and death, health or illness, joy or pain, Jesus is better.  To live is Christ.  To die is gain.  And that right there, joy.

Who > Why.

For about the past four years, I’d been praying for a dear friend’s health.  She struggled those four years (and the 10 years prior to that) just wanting the doctors to be able to discover what was wrong.

She wasn’t a believer back then.

Now, four years later, she loves Jesus.

And now, the doctors do know what’s wrong.  And she’s hiding herself in Him, thankful she met the tempest after finding Refuge (or rather, after Refuge found her).

Still, knowing now hurts.  Deep.

Gratias.

(Latin for “thank you.”)

It’s been a while since my last “thank You” (note the capital “Y”) post.  So, without any further ado, thank You …

1. For the sweet truth that Jesus is better.

In the midst of all the busyness lately, the one recurring theme in everything seems to be: Jesus is better.

Our girls’ Bible study has been going through the book of Hebrews, and the whole refrain of Hebrews is the superiority of Christ.  Jesus is better — not just better in measure, but better in kind; not just because of what He did or does, but because of who He is.  It’s been one thing to know this in the abstract.  It’s been another thing to know this and see this in the day to day.  Jesus is better!

And thanks to Stephen, I’ve been listening through Mark Driscoll’s sermon series through Philippians, The Rebel’s Guide to Joy.  At the end of his first sermon, Driscoll talks about how we are enslaved to sin, enslaved to the opinions of people, and enslaved to other masters (self included).  And then he asks, “Are these better masters than Jesus?”  The clear answer, of course, is, “No, they aren’t.”  Yet, I still run after these idols, these masters, as though they are better than Jesus.  But Jesus is better!

Compared to anything, anyone, anywhere, Jesus is better!

2. For my coworkers.

The longer I work at CityTeam, the more I thank God that it was His good pleasure to place me there.  Let me tell you about some of my coworkers …

One man in his sixties has no children (though he’s the kind of man that would adore and be adored by children), and he and his wife have given their lives to inner-city ministry.  Though he has a weak heart, he pours his heart and life and energy out in service for Christ.

Another man has limited control of his limbs and speech production, but I can see him walking around the office sometimes.  Most often, however, he can be found sitting on his chair, praying.  He’s known as the corporate prayer warrior.

One of my coworkers is a 97-year old man who drives himself to work every day and works for no pay.  He’s a volunteer, and at 97, he’s still going strong for the Lord.

My coworkers challenge me — to pour out my whole life for Christ, to pray without losing heart, to run strong for Christ even to my old age …

3. For Leslie Miller’s successful surgery.

Leslie is one of the girls in our church’s youth group.  She was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor.  She underwent surgery yesterday, and the surgeon was able to remove all of the tumor!

She will continue to undergo treatment afterward.  (But what a trooper.  She’s waiting for her pink wig to arrive in the mail!)

4. That whatever You ordain is right.

That I can trust Him — His sovereignty — in anything and everything, because it is all from His loving hand.  And though what comes from His hand may seem bitter to me, I would rather have what He gives than what I sinfully take.

Whatever my God ordains is right
In His love I am abiding
I will be still in all He does
And follow where He is guiding
He is my God, though dark my road
He holds me that I shall not fall
And so to Him I leave it all.

Whatever my God ordains is right
Though this cup in drinking
Bitter it seems to my faint heart
I take it all unshrinking
My God is true; each morn anew
Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart
And pain and sorrow shall depart.

Whatever my God ordains is right
He never will deceive me
He leads me by the proper path
I know He will not leave me
I take content, what He has sent
His hand can turn my griefs away
And patiently I wait His day.

Whatever my God ordains is right
Here shall my stand be taken
Though sorrow, or need, or death be mine
Yet I am not forsaken
My Father’s care circles me there
He holds me that I shall not fall
And so to Him I leave it all.

(Samuel Rodigast, 1663)

“Trusting when it costs.”

Sometimes I wonder why I even bother to keep a blog when most of it is filled with words spoken or written by people other than myself … but as someone who is most encouraged by words, I can’t help but post words that have encouraged me, in hopes that it might encourage those who stop by here, too.

This is from an email that my pastor sent out today:

Many know the story. When in November of 1873 Horatio Spafford learned his four daughters had perished when their ocean liner, the S.S.Ville Du Havre, was rammed and sunk by the English vessel, Lochearn, out of a mixture of grief and hope he wrote one of the church’s most cherished hymns:

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll,
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Less well known are the words Spafford confided to a friend shortly after the tragedy:

I am glad to trust God when it costs me something.

Being a dad, it’s difficult for me to grasp, to imagine how a father could respond that way to such an unspeakable loss. I suppose in part the explanation is that God gives sufficient grace in the moment of need, not in advance. The other part must be this: Spafford’s faith in the crisis, his bulging bicep faith was so defined because he had developed it as a habit of life in the gym of everyday trials.

We sometimes wonder (I do): If this huge thing, this painful tragedy happened to me; if I lost this or suffered that, would I still trust God, could I thank Him for the privilege of trusting Him when it costs, when it really costs me something? The answer is literally in front of our faces: Are we trusting Him with the thing before us now?

(Pastor John Helveston, East Valley Church)

Small provisions.

Small provisions, expressions of kindness, from a great God.

I shared a little bit ago about how difficult it’s been to find a business-related job — business-related so I could reap some tuition reimbursement benefits from the government.  But this axe certainly doesn’t wield itself.  (It’s in much better hands than that.)

Received from CityTeam a few days ago:

It is my privilege to officially confirm our offer of employment … in the Human Resources area of our ministry.  We genuinely believe that your combination of experience and skills will be a good fit with the vision and mission of CityTeam.  We look forward to watching the Lord’s purpose and plan unfold for your life … This letter is by necessity full of facts and figures, and as such may fail to convey our enthusiasm over having you join us here at CityTeam.  We look forward to partnering with you.

I never expected that almost three months of “fruitless” job searching for strictly business-related jobs would end begin in a job that is so explicitly my Father’s business.  He answered above and beyond what I asked for.  But then again, that’s always been His way.  Even in the “little” things. :]

Jim Elliot’s prayer when he was 20.

“Lord, make my way prosperous, not that I achieve high station,
but that my life may be an exhibit to the value of knowing God.”

I don’t think it’d be cheating to say, “Lord … what he said.  Me, too.”

Letitia means joy.

My friend Erin sent me this picture a couple days ago:

I saw this while walking around in downtown Philly a while ago and thought of you (for obvious reasons…)

I wonder if the neighborhood people pronounce it Le-tee-sha Street or Le-tish-a Street …

About a year ago, I was talking with a friend in the car, and we talked about how our parents gave us “challenging” names — challenging in terms of what our names call us to be.  Mine, joy.  Hers, grace.  In a world like ours, with hearts like ours, joy? grace?

How easy it would have been to live up to my name if it was something like Slow-to-Change, Absent-minded, Self-absorbed … (not that I wish they named me those things!)

But no, joy was what they chose.  In spite of anything and everything, joy.

A couple of nights ago, when I was feeling anything but joyful, I read Philippians again.  God gave reminders about joy through Paul, who was imprisoned for his faith but rejoicing and exhorting the Philippians to rejoice, too.

How was Paul able to genuinely, continually rejoice?  Why did he rejoice?

Because he counted “everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus [his] Lord” (3:8).

Because he clung not to “a righteousness of [his] own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith” (3:9).

Because he set his heart to do one thing … “But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (3:13-14).

Because his hope was secure, knowing “our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like His glorious body, by the power that enables Him even to subject all things to Himself” (3:20).

Because he knew that “the Lord is at hand” (4:5).

Because he had “learned in whatever situation [he is] to be content … in any and every circumstance,” not by his own strength or determination but “through Him who strengthens …” (4:11-13).

I want to rejoice like that.  I want to know more deeply the God in whose hands there are pleasures forevermore.  And in rejoicing in Him in any and every circumstance, I want to bring glory and honor to the name of my God … not because I’m strong (because I’m not), but because He strengthens me.

“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.”
(Philippians 4:4)

“The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup; You hold my lot.  The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.  I bless the LORD who gives me counsel; in the night also my heart instructs me.  I have set the LORD always before me; because He is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices; my flesh also dwells secure.  For You will not abandon my soul to Sheol, or let your holy one see corruption.  You make known to me the path of life; in Your presence there is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”
(Psalm 16: 5-6-11)

Life in/through/from death.

My friend, Steph, got me thinking about autumn yesterday.  The colors, the scents, and the thoughts that this season ushers in.

I’m glad I was born in the month of October. There’s something beautiful about autumn. There’s almost a solemn preparation for winter. The air is crisper; the world seems more awake than it did during the summer. There’s a beauty in the dying, a beauty in the sweet surrender of the life that faithfully comes and goes — rusty oranges, deep reds, golden-edged yellows, and transient shades of brown. It reminds me of spiritual truths.

This is our Creator’s handiwork.  This is how He would portray the season of dying — with rich, warm, attention-drawing colors, as if to say, “See?  See how there is beauty in death?  See how beautifully they die?  See how they die gracefully, regally … but not purposelessly, not with finality?”

But each day is a new lesson on how to die to myself so I can experience the rebirth that comes from the gospel of the cross, waiting, hoping and trusting …
(Stephanie Shin)

We do not die to ourselves just to die.  We die that we might live and be raised with Christ.  That we might walk in newness of life.  That we might display His life, His person in us.

Take my life and let it be,
A hidden cross revealing Thee.
(C.T. Studd)

It’s a blessing to celebrate the life He’s given during such a season.

Hi Bre!

Hi Bre!!  (Yes, you — haha, I only know one Bre.)

As you’re reading this, it must be a little before noon for you?  (How close was I?)

Just wanted to share a song that reminded me of you :]

Time for a milestone
Time to begin again
Reevaluate who I really am
Am I doing everything to follow Your will
Or just climbing aimlessly over these hills
So show me what it is You want from me
I give everything I surrender…
To…

Whatever You’re doing inside of me
It feels like chaos but somehow there’s peace
It’s hard to surrender to what I can’t see
but I’m giving in to something Heavenly

(Whatever You’re Doing, Sanctus Real)

Hope your day at work is a blessing (if not for the intellect, at least for the heart).