Two Brits are talking about English football (a game that looks like soccer to Americans).
One, who has a lukewarm interest in the game, says, “Well, football isn’t a matter of life and death.”
His more fanatical friend responds, “Right, it’s more important than that!”
I’m thinking much the same about Easter. It’s not a matter of life and death—it’s more important than that.
Yes, Easter is a time of celebration. Christians come together to say, “Christ is Risen” and to hear fellow believers declare, “He is Risen indeed.” But that affirmation of life is true whether we can meet together or not. And right now, meeting together may not be an affirmation of life. It may be a foolish act of arrogance and presumption.
I would hate to see the government padlocking churches to keep people from meeting, but I also regret some churches are behaving in ways to cause local governments to consider the action.
Pastors who are urging their congregations to gather this Easter are risking the lives of their members, their members’ grandchildren, neighbors, friends, and acquaintances. I struggle to resist the temptation to suggest those pastors are on a flagrant ego-trip. They certainly may be guilty implicit legalism—to be a Christian you must be at a certain place, at a certain time, on Sunday morning. They seem guilty of spiritual arrogance—I have more faith than my fellow pastors who are cowering before a mere virus (and may promote the same attitude in their members). They seem guilty of questionable theology—God protects Christians from getting sick and, anyway, death is the Christian’s friend.
I spoke to the first idea in my Good Friday meditation. Let me address the second now. The notion that death is our friend or a “natural part of life” stands on faulty grounds biblically. Paul refers to death as “the last enemy” (I Cor. 15:26) not as the Christian’s friend. The Christian’s attitude toward death is shaped by Christ’s Easter victory but, by no means, is the Christian to develop a kind of death-wish. Death remains the enemy until Christ’s Return.
Common experience tells us death is hardly a friend. For forty-five years, my mother and father were devoted to each other, until death took my father from her side, leaving her alone. My dear niece Amy was part of her church’s worship team on Sunday and spent her weekdays advocating for children in the Texas courts; then death took her life in a traffic accident before she was twenty-five years old. How can that be the act of a friend? Yes, we sometimes perceive death as a “release” from suffering, but can we describe that as death’s common bequest? Death far too often robs us of friends and loved ones and, in ways we can only imagine, death stops short the lives of those who may have created great beauty as artists or bestowed upon the world new discoveries that would have improved life. Is this how a friend behaves?
Are we then to fear death? We might argue Easter makes the fear of death unnecessary. Theologically true but, as John Bunyan observed in Pilgrim’s Progress, fear of death is a very human experience—the best of saints may know it. But, what attitude are we to have, especially this Easter when so many churches will be empty?
Some of the pastors who are insisting on having services on Easter say Christians should be in church because they shouldn’t be afraid of death. Well, still, not fearing death does not mean I want to hear the Almighty greet me at the gates of Heaven saying, “I knew you would die during the pandemic because you are too stupid to listen to good advice.” But I digress.
In a passage containing a hint of soliloquy, Paul shares his reflections on the possibility of death at the hands of the Romans. The Philippians, knowing the peril their friend faced in prison, were concerned about him. The apostle wrote,
I trust that my life will bring honor to Christ, whether I live or die. For to me, living means living for Christ, and dying is even better. But if I live, I can do more fruitful work for Christ. So I really don’t know which is better. I’m torn between two desires: I long to go and be with Christ, which would be far better for me. But for your sakes, it is better that I continue to live.
Knowing this, I am convinced that I will remain alive so I can continue to help all of you grow and experience the joy of your faith. (Phil. 1:20-29 NLT)
Paul does not fear death. Indeed, he longs to be “with Christ.” But he recognizes he cannot give in to selfish desires. Indeed, his longing to be with Christ is paired with his longing to be useful to Christ, to help his fellow believers “grow and experience joy.”
Very simply, being a Christian isn’t just about going to heaven. Being a Christian involves caring about other people, keeping their best interests in mind. One is tempted to ask if deliberately putting ourselves at risk of contracting a virulent disease is keeping our neighbor’s best interest in mind. Churches whose members are indifferent to the health of others miss an important implication of the events we recall on Good Friday and Easter.
Martyrdom for the sake of Christ first occurs in the Book of Acts; it would become more common until the church approached the fourth century when the last final frenzy of imperial hatred toward Christians would occur. Unsurprisingly, those who died for Christ were recalled with great respect. They were among the earliest heroes of the faith. During these troubled times the church occasionally faced a strange problem. Some Christians seemed to go out of their way to provoke the authorities, to draw attention to their faith-based eccentricities or their refusal to engage in such practices as offering incense to the image of Caesar. F. F. Bruce tells of how, in some areas where local officials were sympathetic to Christians—knowing they were good citizen, despite Roman propaganda—the imperial edicts were largely ignored. Officials dutifully had the local population line up and pass by an altar dedicated to the emperor. Each resident was expected to throw a pinch of incense on the altar as he or she passed. When Christians who refused to offer the incense passed, officials always seemed to be looking the other way. But, sometimes, a good brother—wrought up by the occasion—would draw attention to his disobedience. Local pastors, knowing which member would likely behave this way, often stationed another Christian behind the enthusiast to gently thump him on the head and drag him silently past the altar before he could make a fuss.
The behavior of such enthusiasts gives us the phrase, “courting martyrdom.” Church leaders generally condemned it. They knew there is a difference between facing death on account of the faith and using the faith as an excuse to seek death. Church leaders believed Christians should pursue life, not death, unless pursuing life involved abandoning the faith. (Do I have to mention that missing church during a pandemic isn’t actually abandoning the faith?)
Not only did the church take a stand against courting martyrdom, the church generally recommended that pastors and other leaders flee when they learned authorities were seeking to arrest them. There was, they insisted, no shame in this. Those who fled could continue to effectively minister elsewhere. Flight was not the same as denying Christ. (Do I have to mention that missing church during a pandemic is not denying Christ?)
But let me go back to Paul’s words to the Philippians. They recall the attitude of an old Quaker who said, “I am going to live until I die and then I’m going to live forever.” Paul wanted his friends to know, “No matter the circumstances, I intend to live.”
So often we have spoken of how Easter allows us to face death with confidence. That is surely true. But I wonder if it isn’t equally true that Easter allows us to face life with confidence.
We may live confidently, knowing that the Creator cares for us so much he sent his Son to die for us.
We may live confidently, knowing that our sins have been forgiven, that we need not carry the burden of our guilt any longer.
We may live confidently, knowing that we may relate to those around us in a new way—freed from the need to win God’s favor, we may focus our attention on thinking about the good of others.
We may live confidently, knowing God’s Spirit helps us make good decisions in the face of crises like pandemics.
So, this Easter call someone, text someone, email someone to say, “Christ is Risen.”
