Dying to Live: Letting Go of Earthly Pleasures to Find Eternal Joy

When Jesus predicted his death in the New Testament, he also said he would be raised to life again on the third day. But when Jesus was crucified, his disciples became overwhelmed by the reality of his absence and were too distracted by Friday’s events to remember that Sunday was coming. They denied knowing him. They deserted him at the cross. They doubted whom he claimed to be.

Each time I read the Gospels, I find myself wishing I could travel back in time—not only to hear Jesus teach but because someone needs to slap some sense into the twelve disciples. Even when Mary Magdalene told them Jesus had, in fact, risen from the dead, they didn’t believe her. After living with and learning from the Son of Man, for years, and being told several times about the events that would take place, they simply didn’t remember. It’s easy to be annoyed by this, isn’t it? But you know what? We’re stuck on Saturday too—largely devaluing the future fulfillment of a miracle promise: Jesus’s second and final coming. We’re just as distracted, deserting, and doubtful.

We also don’t like to wait.

In his article The Psychology of Waiting Lines, David Maister explains the human mindset associated with having to wait.¹ He mentions that if a season of waiting is uncertain or unexplained, it seems longer to us than a season of waiting that is defined and easily understood. Although waiting aimlessly or indefinitely can make us angry, antsy, or afraid, it also makes us weary. It causes us to experience a tiredness that rapidly steers us to distraction. It tricks us into thinking that there are more important, urgent things ahead. It diminishes the value of whatever it is we’re waiting for.

Late last spring, my husband, Carson, and I were in our kitchen discussing summer plans. His work schedule had become unusually busy, and he wanted to make sure his calendar matched mine. I mentioned a few dates—our anniversary trip in June, a weekend with his parents for the Fourth of July, a wedding in early August. I unknowingly listed them in order of importance based on their eventual arrival, not bothering to include the small things we also had on the calendar or things that were okay for him to miss. A bit later, while reading a passage from the book of James, I realized I’d spent the better part of twenty-five years making both spontaneous and calculated plans without acknowledging Jesus or his return. If, when comparing calendars with my husband, I had said, Well, we have an anniversary trip, so-and-so’s wedding, and, oh yeah! Jesus might return, he would’ve laughed it off and told me I wasn’t normal—because that’s not normal. And if it’s not something that’s normal to talk about, it’s clearly not something normal to anticipate. Does his arrival feel uncertain, nonurgent, because there isn’t a specific date or time attached to it? Or have we postured ourselves in a way that diminishes, on a fundamental level, the reality of his return at all?

Has anyone ever critiqued your posture or reminded you to stand up straight with your shoulders back? While this feels old-fashioned, high-societal, and stuffy, good posture is vital to physical health. Simply put, it’s how the body maintains balance and flexibility in coordination with the head, hips, and shoulders. If we don’t have the natural ability to keep our shoulders back, our chin level, our hips even; or if we’ve suffered an injury or illness that keep us from doing so, we may experience joint strain, neck and back pain, and further injury.² The way we posture ourselves spiritually—in alignment with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—matters just as much, if not more. Life experiences, such as job loss or psychological abuse, or even the way we were raised, have the power to throw our relationship with the Lord out of alignment—making our posture poor and creating space for distraction, disobedience, doubt, desertion, and disbelief. Poor posture, both physically and spiritually, can have fatal consequences.

Jeremiah, after evaluating Judah’s love for other gods, wisely commented on the way they had postured themselves: poorly out of alignment with the Lord. Does a young woman forget her jewelry, or a bride her wedding dress? Yet for years on end my people have forgotten me (Jer. 2:32 NLT). This is true still today, with you and with me, in our never-ending, shifting, ebbing, and flowing. We wouldn’t forget to pack for a vacation, study for an exam, save up for a house, or practice our tennis serve. But we don’t seem to remember that Jesus’s return also takes a fair amount of preparation. We may have quiet time early in the morning, we may have a few minutes at lunch to recharge our souls, but then we close our Bible and leave Jesus in the kitchen, the breakroom, the front seat of the car. Even our physical posture in these moments can affect us spiritually. If we’re meant to pray nonstop, then it must be okay to talk to God while driving, baking, pulling weeds, or falling asleep. Yet, when was the last time you got on your knees to pray? When was the last time you bowed your head low, outstretched your hands, and talked to God—not in passing, but on purpose—in awe, reverence, and wonderment? We’re quick to say that we don’t physically bow down to idols, but do we even bow to our own creator? Posture matters.

Jesus’s return, regardless of what we think, is the most important thing to know and consider about the future. Matthew 24:36 reminds us that no one, not even an angel in heaven, knows the details surrounding his arrival—it will happen when least expected. When he returns to find me, I don’t want to be hunched over and distracted. Instead, I hope he finds me standing tall, lifting my head toward heaven (Luke 21:28). Purposely postured.

Jesus illustrates a posture of readiness using the story of the ten bridesmaids in Matthew 25. Traditionally, a Jewish wedding took place in three parts—the engagement, the ceremony, and the marriage. A year after the ceremony, the groom would come back for the bride so the marriage could begin. Almost like a gap year. Don’t ask me why. What’s even more confusing is the bride and the rest of the wedding party were expected to be there when the groom arrived, although he usually did so unexpectedly. See where this is going? The bridesmaids, in this particular story, just so happened to be asleep when the groom arrived. Upon waking, they didn’t have time to fill their lamps. Only those who were already prepared were allowed to attend the marriage festivities.

Another interesting aspect of this story and one that our culture may better identify with is that bridesmaids were usually expected to look their best for the ceremony. In modern times, it’s obvious to the wedding guests that each woman spent time preparing herself for the weekend. Her hair and makeup were done professionally. Maybe she even got a spray tan or lost weight, knowing she would have to be in thousands of photos that won’t ever go away. This is probably what it will look like when Jesus returns. We might be spray-tanned and gorgeous. We might be down to a size two. We might look amazing in our champagne-colored, strapless, bridesmaid dress. But it will only take a second for us to realize that we spent far too much time preparing for the festivities and not nearly enough time preparing for the arrival of the most important guest.

Even in the days of Noah, people were enjoying parties and weddings, generally doing their own thing, until the very moment they felt the first drop of rain. At that point, it was too late. I don’t want our own response to be this delayed, this heedless. His return is not a future us problem, nor should we want it to be. It is immeasurable hope for today. Although it sounds somewhat crazy, shouldn’t true followers of Christ sincerely look forward to death? Shouldn’t there be a tremendous desire to see Jesus face-to-face? Or do we not actually believe that to die is gain (Phil. 1:21 AMP)?

If you’re dreading his return or quietly wishing it would be a future us problem, I understand your thought process. There have been times in my life—like when my son, Riley, was born—that I thought, Wow, please wait a second, Jesus! I’m really loving life right now. This mindset can become all-consuming if you are legitimately enjoying yourself, seem to have it all, or are largely untouched by the evil that runs rampant. In the here and now of temporary happiness, luxury, and success, it’s easy to forget how desperately we need Jesus and the joy that awaits us in eternity. I look back on my shallow, limited perspective and feel guilty and embarrassed. How could I ever want anything more than Jesus himself?

I recently spoke with a friend whose heart has forever been hurting. Her words to me were something like this: I’ve given the world everything and still, it isn’t good enough. The weight is crushing. There’s nowhere to go, no support. I just want a peaceful heart, but I fear I’ll never find one. What a reminder of how badly we want Jesus, how greatly we need him. Even someone with a picture-perfect life can only tread water for so long before they begin to drown. Those of us who were treading water but somehow found our way to a life raft (success, happiness, etc.) often forget that we, too, are still waiting for rescue.

We can’t afford to overlook the words of the psalmist: My entire lifetime is just a moment to you; at best, each of us is but a breath. We are merely moving shadows, and all our busy rushing ends in nothing (Ps. 39:5–6 NLT). When reading this, how can anything be more important than living for Jesus? What if you were told today that he’s coming back tomorrow? You might actually then forget your wedding dress, which just became a lot less important.

Supermarket Sweep was a televised gameshow that originated in the 1960s. Each contestant had one minute and thirty seconds to fill their cart with whatever they chose. The value of the items in the cart at the end of the game determined the winning team. If the contestant had an hour to fill their cart, they might have chosen to comfortably browse instead of immediately grab what mattered—things of value. Even with such short lives, sometimes we comfortably browse, forgetting that we only have so long before the buzzer goes off and we’re called home. We can’t afford to worry about things that are of little value to heaven. We must quickly carry out the tasks assigned us by the one who sent us (John 9:4 NLT).

Several women, including one of Jesus’s first followers, Mary Magdalene, found his tomb empty on the third morning, and they were puzzled. It wasn’t until the angels appeared that the women remembered what Jesus had said (Luke 24:8 NLT). I don’t want myself or my family, my neighbors, or my church to have the same reaction. He told his disciples several times that he would return, and he’s telling us, too. There’s no time to browse—we must remember and do.

As frustrated as I get with the disciples, it’s important to note that the crucifixion and the hours following are historically referred to as earth’s darkest hour. My annoyance isn’t justifiable when I’ve never experienced anything like that myself. On this side of history, we get to know what happens. The Bible reveals to us the story in its entirety. With a much larger picture, we’re able to see and somewhat understand what Jesus was doing by going to the cross. In a sense, we get to sit back and relax because we aren’t the ones who had to witness Jesus’s horrific death and wonder how the story ends. We simply get to look forward to the triumphant joy of his final return. Even still, when our comfortable lives—and I mean this in the best way possible—reach a deeper, darker place, when a little bit of stress is added in, we also forget what God has promised. Yet, the space of doubt, distraction, and desertion we’re standing in is the space where Jesus wants to meet us. And just like he did with the disciples, he’ll pick us up, dust us off, and set us on the straight