“according to my earnest expectation and hope, that I shall not be put to shame in anything, but that with all boldness, Christ shall even now, as always, be exalted in my body, whether by life or death. For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:20-21).
Until we are willing to die, we can’t understand what it means to live. The apostle Paul was writing this statement from prison. Another version says, “…everything happening to me in this jail only serves to make Christ more accurately known, regardless of whether I live or die. They didn’t shut me up; they gave me a pulpit! Alive, I’m Christ’s messenger; dead, I’m His bounty…I can’t lose” (MSG).
After facing several losses in a short period of time and clinging to what the Scriptures teach, I concur with Paul. It really makes no difference. If I continue my life on earth, I have opportunities to bring my Lord glory. Others watching my struggle and God’s marvelous support can’t miss the fact that God is at work in me. But if I’m called home, I get to be with Jesus and the Father face to face, along with countless loved ones. How can I lose? Christ’s Spirit gives me courage and supernatural desire to proclaim daily truths I’m learning to live out. I’m so grateful for His blessed presence, I can’t help myself.
Mary’s Walk
Recently, my husband and I attended a memorial service for my grandmother, who died at ninety-five. Though not a blood relative and my grandfather’s third wife, she was the only grandmother I’d known on my mom’s side. She and my grandfather were married nearly fifty years, though she wouldn’t have been considered a young bride. By the time he found her, she’d already begun her career as a beautician and was self-supporting. After he died while they were living on the East Coast, her nieces and nephew brought her to the West where she started. That’s when I got to really know Mary. I’d pick her up for an outing to one of several museums in the metro area and lunch, or some other little-known, but interesting attraction, like the candy factory or a small petting zoo. We’d always have a great afternoon, even after she became challenged by dementia.
After her death, though, I learned a significant piece of information about Mary. During WWII she traveled to L.A. to work on planes for the war effort. She was petite and could fit into tight places, so the work suited her. One thing I’ll remember about her is that she didn’t complain or appear frightened when life was hard. She was a pragmatist and had faith in her God. She just knew He would take care of her. I loved that about her.
Safely Home
At her service I wasn’t surprise to see a contingent of women from Curves, complete with their red long-sleeve t’s, and others from Mary’s more recent past. No matter what phase of life Mary was in, she could make new friends. But the most inspiring part of the memorial was when, for the first time, I heard the Steve Green song, “Safely Home.” Its lyrics hit home:
“…This life is merely shadow. Today there’s sorrow, but joy tomorrow…O hear Me, come draw near Me…They’re strong and free. They’re safe with Me…One day you’ll join them. All together. This time forever. Safely home.”
Oh Father, I’m drawing near to You more and more each coming day. I can’t live this life unless You’re close. Thank you for caring for us throughout this life and into the next. Just like when I watched Mary grow old and then go home, let my walk show others the way. No pretense, only grace. According to my earnest expectation and hope, let me not be put to shame. Let Christ be exalted in this body, because to live is Christ and to die is gain.
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