• 10 friends at funeral who won’t look at watch (I know this isn’t original because I’ve heard it elsewhere.)
• People to tell my children that their father loved God not flesh.
• Look wife in face and say I’ve been faithful.
• Be thoroughly used by God.

I’m supremely honored and humbled that the Lord broke through my stubborn and self-determined plans when I was 21 to call me to serve His people. As I often tell our church, at that time I put my “yes” on the table for Christ, and it has remained there to this day. He has the perfect right, and it’s my ultimate joy to follow as He directs.

There was a young preacher in the New Testament named Timothy who must have experienced some of that joy as he received a charge from his mentor, Paul. Timothy was urged to do precisely what cost the Paul and the other apostles their lives: “Preach the Word!” (2 Timothy 4.2)

I can’t help but read the New Testament and marvel at and drink enviously of the first century Christ-followers’ passion for the Gospel. Their goal seemed to be: Full-out, finish strong, fight to the end.

In one of my favorite movies of all time, William Wallace in Braveheart utters, “Give me the strength to die well.”

While William Wallace lived and fought for the freedom of Scotland, the epic struggle raging for spiritual freedom has been fought throughout time by ordinary men and women. They have never had movies made of them. Hebrews 11.35-40 records about these unnamed, persevering saints:

Others were tortured and refused to be released, so that they might gain a better resurrection. Some faced jeers and flogging, while still others were chained and put in prison. They were stoned; they were sawed in two; they were put to death by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated— the world was not worthy of them. They wandered in deserts and mountains, and in caves and holes in the ground. These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised. God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect.

To further contrast with our own attitudes, the apostle Paul also saw his death as an act of worship. He said, “For I am already being poured out like a drink offering, and the time has come for my departure.” (2 Timothy 4.6). He understood that the highest level of worship to offer to God is dying for one’s faith.

Justin Martyr (100-165 AD) said, “If you want to know if what we believe is true, then watch the way we die.”

Paul had lived his life as an act of worship (“fought the good fight”). Herein we must ask, “Is my life a life of worship? Would my death be a sacrifice of worship?” God doesn’t call you to fight without calling you to finish. One of our greatest concerns for the church today should be that we burn up before we burn out.

Yet there are too many of us who are barely flickering. As I shared in my sermon this past week, the name “Jesus” must cross our lips in conversation with our community. We cannot play charades any longer and hope they guess that we’re acting like “Christians.” It’s not enough to sing Christian songs, go the right churches, wear the right clothes, listen to the right podcasts or read the “in” books. Too much input has led us to spiritual constipation. Most of us desperately need a gospel laxative.

Voddie Baucham said, “For 17 months after I became a Christian, I didn’t know that Christians weren’t supposed to witness.” He sadi this in reference to the sad truth that the church he attended and the Christians he associated with during that first year and a half of following Christ were tragically silent about their Savior.

Have we “gotten over it?” In a desperate yet majestic prayer of repentance, David sorrowfully begged the Lord, “Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me.” (Psalm 51.12) Perhaps we too need to humbly cry out to the Lord at the realization that our joy, our enthusiasm, our hope has been all but snuffed out in this culture of materialistic self-dependency.

Reflecting over those goals after death makes me hope that I will pray that God will help me long for heaven – not just for myself but for all with whom God might kindly give me influence. And may the name of Jesus cross my lips… and my keyboard.. often.

Since I was 7 years old, Jesus Christ has been my light and my hope. He has done great things for me, my family and all those who put their trust in Him. He is the hope of the world. May you find hope in Him as well. The church that Jesus established was to be the light of the world. The image was of a lamp – with its wick lit and trimmed, it was set on a lamp stand to light the way for others. Let us burn up before we burn out.

Sundown Friday. In years long before my own ancestry can be traced, a man’s body was removed from rough wooden poles before dusk. For religious reasons, the body must be buried before dark. He was dead, certainly. A staggeringly unusual death. Drama. Political intrigue. Controversy. Desertion.

In only six hours, a man hailed as the nation’s next King-Deliverer was no longer preaching or healing. He was simply… dead. As were the dreams and hopes of all who had dared imagine that this man, this strange man, from a ridiculed backwater village offered more than just welfare. He had claimed to offer life.

Unceremoniously, he was urgently thrust into a new tomb. The gathering dark even prevented proper annointing. Women would return later to properly prepare his body. Friday night signaled the Sabbath’s beginning, however. It would be no sensational worship event. Jesus was dead.

As I pause to reflect on this “Good” Friday, I am sobered by the truth that it is only good because through Christ, I am now good. His death meant my forgiveness. His sacrifice meant my salvation.

In the soaring chorus of Nothing But the Blood, there is a line that I am today cherishing:

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

When Horatio Spafford wrote these lines in the early 1870s, he was suffering the loss of his children on a transatlantic voyage. In fact, his wife survived the crash of two vessels and telegrammed back to him these words: “Saved alone.”

As he traveled to join her, he was notified when his ship passed over the location of the shipwreck that killed his children. It was on that ship that the above words were penned, along with the astonishing chorus:

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

On this silent night, with gathered dark threatening victory over all souls so many years ago, I for one am grateful that God was not inactive. Rather, He was purchasing for Himself the souls of all who would through faith trust in Christ alone.

My sins, not in part, but the whole… They are thrown as far as the east is from the west! Allelujah. Truly. May Christ be praised.

Such joyful truth has prompted John Piper to write the following entry on this Good Friday:

CHRISTIAN:

Hello, Death, my old enemy. My old slave-master. Have you come to talk to me again? To frighten me?

I am not the person you think I am. I am not the one you used to talk to. Something has happened. Let me ask you a question, Death.

Where is your sting?

DEATH, sneeringly:

My sting is your sin.

CHRISTIAN:

I know that, Death. But that’s not what I asked you. I asked, where is your sting? I know what it is. But tell me where it is.

Why are you fidgeting, Death? Why are you looking away? Why are you turning to go? Wait, Death, you have not answered my question. Where is your sting?

Where is, my sin?

What? You have no answer? But, Death, why do you have no answer? How will you terrify me, if you have no answer?

O Death, I will tell you the answer. Where is your sting? Where is my sin? It is hanging on that tree. God made Christ to be sin—my sin. When he died, the penalty of my sin was paid. The power of it was broken. I bear it no more.

Farewell, Death. You need not show up here again to frighten me. God will tell you when to come next time. And when you come, you will be his servant. For me, you will have no sting.

O death, where is your victory?
O death, where is your sting?
The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law.
But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory
through our Lord Jesus Christ. (1 Corinthians 15:55-57)

It’s not just my sin. It’s yours too – the whole. Victory in Jesus, our Savior forever…

Go to church this Easter.