Why do people die?

It's been a while since I have written anything on this blog.  You see, my dad died, and I haven't felt like I had much to say.

I have been trying to get back into life this week, but my feet are dragging.
I have everything -- hundreds of condolences, plenty of vacation time off of work, frankly, we have been treated like royalty.  There is nothing anyone could do better than what has been done for us.

Yet, there is still the ache, deep down inside.
My dad is gone.

He was like the sky, something you don't notice most days, but you never actually even wonder if it is there.  You just assume it is there.  You mostly don't stop and look
until it is time for the sunset.

Well I have been stopping and looking, and it has been beautiful.
I even told people it is morning now,
but it still feels like midnight.

Why do people die?

I thought of various redemptive meanings. Every great conflict needs a buzzer to end it all, to signal the victory.  There needs to be a climax and an end to any great story.  There is a rhythm to life and death that somehow keeps things going.
but tonight I say hogwash.

Death is the enemy.

Why do people die?  Because someone has sucked the life out of this world, that's why.  It's not the way it is suppose to be. It was not their time.  It is not that God needs another flower for his garden.  It's not that he lived a good life and was 81.

I used to think that the death of old people was legitimate, in the sense that, "What else did you expect? Your grandmother was 96.  Do you really miss feeding her every day and watching her drool?"

I see it differently now.  Death is always the enemy.  God is life.  Death came by sin. Death hurts.

So when I miss my dad, I am not dealing with something very logical or unusual or even entirely unexpected, but I am beating my head against the universal wall of mortality,
and it sure does hurt,
period.

There is that place in Scripture where Jesus wept.  I have heard that story in sentimental terms, but I read something else recently.  The more little rendering apparently is that Jesus groaned with sorrow mixed with anger.  Ughhhhh, the enemy stole another one. 

This rendering also sheds a different light on what happens later.

Jesus speaks in a very loud voice.  The description is more like a war cry. Its as if he is speaking straight into Hell -- the place he himself is going to enter and bust open in a few months.  Its as if his mission is becoming clearer by the moment, and he screams with the clarity only great conflict can bring, "Lazarus, come forth!!!"

Why I never liked Jesus?

I never liked the stories of Jesus when I was a kid. Many times I still don't, and I recently stumbled on why.

I didn't like his personality. Perhaps it was well-meaning theologians who were trying to wrap it all into a single character. Trying to include his omnipotence and omniscience they stripped him of all the grit necessary for adventure and love. Think for a minute. How would it be like to hang out with someone who never took any risks, never was vulnerable, never knew fear, always knew what to say, always stayed in control, never had emotions at the top or bottom end of the norm, and never was uncertain about anything.

No wonder I didn't like Him.

What if I told you it was a fake -- a religious veil we put over Jesus because we don't want Him quite so close.  That image of Jesus has more to do with the insecurities we have. We prefer a God who is in control instead of a God who who struggles in Gethsemane.

We explain away the anger and certainly any uncertainty because we fear these things ourselves.

We want a Jesus that will enable us to rise above it all rather than a Jesus that joins the muck of life.

The purpose of religion is to explain and eliminate the uncertainty of life. Jesus doesn't follow this agenda. He didn't get that memo.

So the first generation of hypocrites killed Him. The next 60 or so have covered Him with a pius  invulnerability.

Recently, I read a book about Jesus that made me weep and worship (Beautiful Outlaw). This got me thinking like this.

I hope you bump into the real Jesus sometime like I did.  You might get dirty. You might get rocks thrown at you. You might even fall in love.