Living Well. Dying Well.

“If it would have been quarter of an inch lower, you’d be dead.” I don’t actually remember hearing Dr Weston say those words, I was only 7 years old, and my head hurt. But my family repeated it back to me as they recounted my fall. I still have the scar on the back of my head to remind me of my first “brush with death.” Over the years since, I’ve had a few more close encounters of this type. Some that God revealed to me after-the-fact. Others I soberly knew about immediately. These all contributed to me having a very real sense of my own mortality.

Somewhere I read that the early Church, before the creeds were formalized, believers didn’t celebrate Christ’s birth (Christmas), nor even His resurrection (Easter) as a holiday. But, they did recognize and remember His death on the cross. God saves us through the cross, through Christ Himself. To this day, we remind ourselves of this through the Lord’s Supper, and during Lent. It is an awareness of our own lack, our own need for a savior. We also humbly recognize our own finitude, our own mortality, and how much we need God and His amazing grace.

David Taylor writes, In our communities of faith, we must learn how to speak honestly and truthfully about dying, death and the dead. Reminding ourselves through the Lord’s Supper what it means to “die a good death” and to “live a good life.” We must lament the brokenness of our lives now so that we will be able to lament our broken lives in death — and discover that God’s grace embraces us here too. 1

We’re in the final weeks leading up to the cross, the final weeks of Lent. A prolonged reflection shaped by a biblical theology of creation, sin, mortality, death, of grace and salvation. It is a time when we are aware of our own lack - we need a savior. It is also an opportunity for us to reflect on our own mortality.

Dare we imitate Christ as we embrace finitude? How does this influence our theology of suffering and the daily living out of our faith?

It is important to be prepared for death, very important; but if we start thinking about it only when we are terminally ill, our reflections will not give us the support we need. (Henri Nouwen)

Recently, Time Magazine had an article on our culture’s obsession with trying to live forever. We deny aging and death…or at least try to. Indeed, keeping death close…has many lessons to teach us about life…Death can help us focus our attention on living our best life, because there’s nothing that can teach us more about how to live life than death. 2

Dr L. S. Dugdale refers to this as “living well, dying well.” If the art of dying well is in truth the art of living well, then how ought we to live? How might we face death and still flourish? She writes about the ars Moriendi, the art of dying, the art of human finitude provokes anticipation and preparation for an inevitable end. 3

It is estimated that two-thirds of the European population died during the global Black Plague in the 1340s. From this chaos, the ars Moriendi was born. By the 1400s this was a well known handbook for the preparation for death, with illustrations. It’s main premise was that to die well, you had to live well. Living well meant anticipating and preparing for death with the context of your community over the course of a lifetime. The ars Moriendi continued through western culture until the 20th century, partially due to the development of medication (antibiotics, etc) that “gave life after death”. Not only did we stop thinking about how to die well, our very culture became inhospitable to the art of dying. 3 Which brings us back to the aforementioned Time article. We live in a culture that has developed elaborate ways to deny the ultimate…our mortality. Have we truly lost the art of living well and dying well?

Enable me, Father, by your grace, to look forward to my end; and to look backward too, recalling the free gifts you have showered on me from the beginning. By remembering your gift of planting me as a pastor of the church, and your gift long before that of writing me in the book of life — by remembering those things, Lord, may I learn to call upon your mercies now, when I need you. 4

I am mortal and will one day die. People who want to die well, must embrace their own finitude. What is your reaction to this statement?

Within the context of the Psalms, death is a reality. A reality not only at the end of life, but one that visits us throughout life as well. Ponder on Psalm 103 (vs 15,16) for a while. Enter into an ongoing conversation with God throughout the day about your own mortality. Musing on Psalms 69 and 89, wrestle with this thought: anything that diminishes life, depletes life, mutes life or decimates life…is like death. 1

Think about how your family of origin, or your church fellowship, talk about death - or avoid talking about death. In what ways does our culture shelter us from dying, and what might we be losing because of it? How might Christians become a countercultural witness to a biblical view of life and death?

Whether I live another day
or many decades more,
there is only one way all this will end,
and that is with me in your arms, O Father,
joyful and utterly whole,
pressing ever further
for all eternity into your
beauty, wisdom,
love, and delight. 5

Resources:

1. Open and Unafraid: The Psalms As A Guide To Life, David Taylor,

2. “The Cost of Trying To Live Forever”, Time Magazine

3. The Lost Art of Dying: Reviving Forgotten Wisdom, L. S. Dugdale MD

4. Undone: A Modern Rendering of John Donne’s Devotions, Philip Yancey

5. Every Moment Holy, Vol II: Death, Grief and Hope,

Consider also…

• Whole Prayer, Walter Wangerin Jr

• I Came To Set The Earth On Fire, R. T. France (my favorite on the death of Christ)

Dave Manske

Missions Mobilizer